Father Daniel: the pillar of Faith

A lot has been written and said about Father Daniel. Even a corner at Yad VaShem has been dedicated to the memory of him. I knew Fr. Daniel well during the last five years of his life.

He had a huge heart, always flaming with love. He often talked about the Second World War, his work as a translator among the Nazis (where he saved about 300 people from deportation). Once he told me that if the Nazis would ever see a young Jew in a bath, (from the obvious marks which he carried on his body) he would be executed with no reprieve. He spoke to me of all these things because I came to Israel from the same place, in Belarus, where young Daniel had been actively involved.

In the years in which I came to know him, he was already the spiritual father of our community. I want to tell of one episode that reflects the faith that he had in his God and the inspiration that he provided to his flock.

Once Fr. Daniel told me to repair an organ that was in the inner chapel at the monastery of the Stella Maris Church. I tried to explain to him that I love music, but I have no experience with fixing instruments. Fr. Daniel looked at me, and in his usual quiet and stern voice said, "You shall fix it!" Not having enough courage to object; I said yes, knowing that I would walk away without accomplishing anything.

So one holiday morning, I went to the monastery, taking some simple tools that are available to everyone at home. An old Carmelite monk welcomed me there and as he was leading me to the organ, my eyes fell on a painting of the sacred heart of Jesus. I looked at it, and cried deep inside my heart, "Lord, I can not do it, but to you everything is possible! Help me!" It was like a little child, asking from his father, something urgent and immediate.

For the next two days, all the time I worked there, the Carmelite monk was besides me. We talked, went to have lunch together and he was always with me as a good friend and a witness. I dissembled the organ, searched for the working mechanism and actually found the problem. A piece of wood was broken and had to be glued to another part. I made a new part and attached it to the old one; later reassembled the organ and to my real surprise, it worked! The joy that I felt was beyond limits.

Now, a monk from the monastery, a Polish national, who handles the finances, asked me that how much he should pay for the work. I used to work in the church for free in my home country, Belarus, and I expected the same here. But the Pole was adamant and he persisted. To stop the dispute, I told him that one shekel would be enough. I made sure that he understood by telling him the same thing in three different languages, which we both understood. He did not take me seriously and left. The old monk was as usual there all the time.

Being pleased that I could repair the organ, I went ahead to clean its mechanism too, as there was too much dust accumulated over the years. The old monk and I got two buckets of water, some wet towels, and I started the cleaning process. Soon I realized that I had hit upon something precious; beneath the pedals I saw there a shekel! The monk looked at me, and I at him, with no words to explain what we just witnessed. 

Now, I am a realist. I am aware that the shekel must have fallen from somebody, sometime back, and I happened to get it. But no one had asked me to clean the organ, I had just volunteered. And if someone wants to call it a miracle, I will not object...

I never believed that I could fix the organ, but Fr. Daniel always looked with eyes that were beyond rational human understanding. He also had the exceptional ability to transmit this to the people around him.

PS. Later Fr. Daniel handed me the money from the monastery; a decent pay for two days labor. He joked that next time I should not ask for just a shekel! But I think that the one shekel that I got was beyond anything I could have been paid.