Missing Shelly Rokofsky (Shemot 1/17/25)

Missing Shelly Rokofsky

Shelly was my dear friend; I genuinely loved him. When you’re so close to someone, you lose objectivity. You only see the person through the channel of your own relationship with him. You may not notice how he interacts or influences others. However, upon hearing the words and sentiments from family and friends during the funeral and Shiva, my admiration for my dear buddy has only grown. Not only was he an exceptional friend to me and others, but he was a supportive and fun husband, a loving and guiding father and grandfather, and a person who impacted and elevated the lives of thousands.

Shelly and I developed a very close relationship over the past ten years. I had been here only a few months when, after a service, he approached me, hugged me, and told me he loved me. I thought it was a bit premature, but I was touched, and it wasn’t long before I truly loved him back.

When I took over the pulpit, I realized that Shelly must have been leading the services in the interim after Rabbi Senter left. I asked Shelly to continue leading Vay’chulu and Magein Avot. Shelly led these two prayers beautifully and joyfully for eight straight years. At the end of every Kabbalat Shabbat, Shelly would chime in: “It’s time to say Good Shabbos. Good Shabbos, Good Shabbos, Good Shabbos…He sang these words wholeheartedly and made us all appreciate Shabbat even more.

In weekday services, before we’d begin the Shemonah Esrei, he’d call out “Amidah!” and we’d all begin. He was firing us up for this holy prayer. When we wouldn’t hear those words, we’d all wonder, “Where’s Shelly?”

Shelly was not only my partner on Shabbat night but on many ventures. We put on many Purim Shpiels together. Shelly was the perfect King Achashverosh. He loved hamming it up as the King, especially with the pretty young women vying for his attention. And when he sang, his voice would melt you.

We did numerous conversions and weddings together. Under the Chuppah, I like to keep my words brief; in contrast, Shelly always felt this was the best time for a marital pep talk. Before his own marriage, his mom had told him never to go to sleep angry and to give a kiss before going to sleep, and Shelly would pass that golden message on every time.

It was during Covid, though, that my love for Shelly grew exponentially. We conducted our services on Zoom, and on Friday night, I’d head to an empty synagogue to lead the service. Shelly didn’t want me to be alone, so for about a year and a half, it would just be Shelly and I in the synagogue. I truly appreciated his company. He made me feel loved.

When the brunch in my honor was going to take place, I told Shelly it would mean a lot to me if he could attend. I knew it was a big ask; he was weak and only traveling to doctors at this time. Of course, Shelly came, and he was treated like royalty. People flocked to him, pining for his radiant smile, good humor, and caring words.

Judie, Howie, Dave and Carron, Alicyn and Jason, Michael and Tracy, Zoe, Zachary, Jonathan, Jacob, and all of us will tremendously miss Shelly. But we have gained from his presence. His voice, love, and laughter are a part of us.

At a Bar Mitzvah, if Shelly knew the family, which meant there was undoubtedly a meaningful relationship, he’d come up to the Bimah and sing a song for the child. It was a song by Abie Rotenberg called “A Place Where I Belong.”

It’s about a Holocaust Torah that comes to America and is placed in a showcase as a memento of the past. The Torah pines to be read and danced with again. The song concludes:

So, if you hear my voice, why don’t you come along,

And take me to the place where I belong,

And maybe even sing and dance when you carry me away,

To some little wooden shul where I could stay.

And as the Rabbi holds me close against his chest,

He’ll speak out loud and clear to all the rest.

He’ll say, “No matter if you’re very young, or even if you’re old,

Live by the words you’ll find inside this scroll.”

Live by the words you’ll find inside my soul.

It’s a fantastic song, and perhaps it resonated with Shelly because he loved living Jewishly, especially singing and dancing in a small, caring shul. Those fortunate to pray with Shelly, be it in the Aleph-Bet Program, with the Shabbatones, on a regular Shabbat, Weekday Ma’ariv, or Community Yizkor, know how infectious Shelly’s joy was. He lit us all up.

So, if we want to keep Shelly’s memory going,

Let’s “Live by the words you’ll find inside this scroll.”

Live by the words you’ll find inside his soul.

יהי זכרו ברוך

His memory will be a blessing