background

Stories & Memories of Rabbi Yudi Dukes

By: E. R. January 27

Impact by Osmosis

BH

Dear Sarah, Dukes children, and the immediate and extended Dukes and Spangenthal family,

We've never met in person, but I’ve thought of you multiple times a day every day for the last many months. Having checked in to read Sarah's almost-daily updates and powerful thoughts every morning and evening and oftentimes more frequently than that, it’s no surprise that caringbridge.org ranks the second most visited site on my computer. And now, my mouse automatically takes me to the orange heart icon, wishing there was some kind of update.

For the last 10 years, I’ve BH had the zechus of working for Merkos L’Inyonei Chinuch. After a few weeks on the job, I learned how to tune out the voices of the 20-30+ other people in the large room famously known as Suite 302. Most of the time. It was often that the voice emanating from the JNet cubicle on the farthest opposite side of the room rang right through my auditory buffer zone.

Without listening in on the particulars of the conversations, the steady stream of brachos that consistently poured forth to those on the other end of Rabbi Dukes' line was impossible to ignore. Be it brachos to chavrusas who had just taken the plunge and committed to study, or brachos to the countless people he solicited throughout the year, each one was clearly heartfelt and intentional. “May your winnings be just a maaser min hamaaser of your earnings,” he’d wish to each person he’d asked to purchase a raffle ticket for $10,000. Even those who declined to donate were showered with an abundance of blessings.

I know Mendy Dukes celebrated his bar mitzvah last year on Chof Daled Teves. Not because I was told about it or ever saw an invitation. Because throughout the six or eight weeks before, I kept on hearing it be mentioned with pride to those on the other end of the line. The first time or two I heard it, I assumed Rabbi Dukes must have been speaking to a close relative. Then, as I kept on hearing the bar mitzvah be mentioned, I realized that he simply treated so many people like family. This is particularly incredible, considering the fact that his line of work involved him constantly speaking with new people and then following up with them, along with hundreds of others. The robotic repetitious salutations and canned lines telephone agents and telemarketers are notorious for were as far removed from his conversations as they are from yours when you converse with a dear friend.

The last time I ever spoke with Rabbi Dukes was the day after Shushan Purim this year. He came to ask me about some writing he had wanted me to do. I had been in the midst of speaking with a friend and coworker about the oddities of the previous couple of hours, of having called to find out whether my daughter was permitted to attend school that day because she had sneezed and coughed twice in the morning. As we paused the conversation upon his arrival, if I recall correctly, Rabbi Dukes interjected with something along the lines of “this must be Moshiach’s tzeiten.”

Indeed.

This past Shabbos, licht bentchen was different. As I and my girls made the bracha together and launched into our refuah shelaimah pleas, a loud silence painfully filled the room. And then, as we made kiddush, we again felt a void. Ever since Rabbi Dukes was hospitalized, our family has made a lechaim for his recovery immediately after taking a sip of our wine at every Shabbos and yom tov meal. We’d mention his wife and children and ask Hashem to reunite them all in good health. This week we made a strong lechaim to Hashem, asking him to send Moshiach at that very moment.

At 770 this past Thursday, I could not recall when I had last experienced such a packed levaya. It was 3:00 in the middle of a work and school day with barely three hours advance notice and it felt like the entire neighborhood was there. People kept on pouring in from all directions. As I made my way home afterward, traffic was still at a standstill from Eastern Parkway to Crown Street. Walking down Kingston Avenue all the way to Maple Street, it seemed like everyone I passed by was talking about the loss we had collectively just experienced. I observed a woman walking out of a store on Kingston near President Street with a kvort in hand, washing negel vasser in the gutter. A feeling of mourning was in the air. We have lost someone who literally impacted thousands of Jews around the world and was considered a personal friend by so many. And a dearest family member to you. May the Aibershter grant you and your entire family and us all the ultimate nechama with the coming of Moshiach today.

Sincerely,

Elky Raitport

 
Share Your Story

 
loading Processing...