ESSENTIAL WORKERS DURING THE CORONAVIRUS: Appreciating the Least of them

Rabbi Stephen Weiss
BEHAR 2020

Nowhere is the lesson of the smallness of Sinai – of the discarded stone becoming the cornerstone – ring more true than in the lives of this moment’s many unsung heroes of this coronavirus pandemic.

The Environmental Services Manager at New York-Presbyterian Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital plays a critical role in protecting both patients and employees. These staff perform the arduous tasks of wiping down beds, cleaning bathrooms, and decontaminating hospital equipment. They are the unnoticed sinews of a well-functioning hospital… the critical first line of defense against infection. But in the process, those doing the cleaning have perhaps the highest risk of exposure in the hospital. They also earn among the hospital’s lowest salaries. Who would want such a job?

Well, it turns out that there were five who do. The five volunteer team members are Eugenio Mesa, Elizabeth Batista, Glenis Adames, Gustavo Borrero and Dennys Carrasco.

Why did they volunteer?  

Eugenio Mesa summed up his co-workers’ sentiment when he told the press that he didn’t hesitate to join the team. “I wanted to help save somebody’s life, the same way all the nurses and doctors are saving people’s lives,” he said. “Everyone is united right now. Everyone plays an important role.”

The members of the hospital’s environmental team are among the unsung heroes in this pandemic. Their work goes largely unnoticed. They are underappreciated and underpaid, yet theirs is among the most important work of all.

Its often the case those doing the seemingly smallest and least important tasks are actually making the greatest impact. That is a lesson that is driven home to us in this morning’s Torah double Torah portion, Behar–Behukotai. The portion opens with God speaking to Moses on Mount Sinai, instructing the Israelites to observe shmitta, the Sabbatical year. Every seven years we are required to let the land lie fallow. Shmitta reminds us that the land belongs to God, not to us. It is a gift on loan to us on condition that we are good stewards who protect it and do not over-use it, and that we use the land to benefit others, such as the poor, and not just ourselves.

Centuries of commentators have asked the question, mah inyan shittah etzel har sinai? What does shmitta have to do with Mount Sinai? Why are we told that this specific mitzvah was given at Mount Sinai. Weren’t all the mitzvot given at Sinai? Rabbi Harold Kushner offers this explanation: “Just as Sinai was the smallest of mountains, but the words spoken there changed the world, so the people Israel, the smallest of the nations, present a vision of social justice that has the power to change the world.”

Yes, the smallest thing, and the seemingly smallest, least significant person, can change the world. We find this lesson in the psalms as well, in a verse we recite every holiday and Rosh Chodesh as part of Hallel: Even ma’asu ha-bonim haytah l’rosh pinah — “The stone that the builder rejected has become the chief cornerstone.”

In struggling to survive this pandemic, we have experienced the power of small things. The virus itself is so small it cannot be seen, and so it turns out that the best defenses against the virus are also the smallest, simplest acts: washing one’s hands, wearing a mask, standing 6-12 feet away from others, speaking softly instead of loudly. Not singing in close proximity to others. And it is also the smallest, simplest things that have allowed us to survive our quarantines mentally and emotionally: taking walks, listening to music, playing a funny video clip. We find inner peace and joy by noticing the smallest things around us as well: a new flower, the song of birds, the feel of the sun on our skin as the air in Cleveland finally begins to warm.

Nowhere is the lesson of the smallness of Sinai – of the discarded stone becoming the cornerstone – ring more true than in the lives of this moment’s many unsung heroes of this coronavirus pandemic. .

They are truckers like Crissy Becker. “I’m a mom,” she writes. “Instead of going home, I stayed out driving my truck sometimes 24 hours at a time, lately six weeks. So y’all got what you need. Johnny Richardson, another truck driver, admits the great fear he and other drivers live with. They are constantly walking into environments where they could be exposed to the virus.

Truck drivers are not being tested, so they do not know if they have the virus or not. So many establishments being closed means that it is nearly impossible for them to find a bathroom, a drive through to get food or a shower along their long routes. “The shelves are pretty empty now; Johnny told the press, “but if it wasn’t for these drivers you would not have nothing on the shelf.” Why do they do it? Another trucker, Julius Montgomery, told ABC News, ““I never served in the military, but I am serving my country right here. I am serving right in the United States.”

They are garbage collectors like Aaron Meir, who tweeted “It’s a tough job, from getting up pre-dawn to the physical toll it takes on my body to the monotonous nature of the job, at times it’s hard to keep on going. Right now though, right now I am feeling an extra sense of pride and purpose as I do my work. I see the people, my people, of my city, peeking out their windows at me. They’re scared, we’re scared. Scared but resilient. Us garbagemen are gonna keep collecting the garbage… It’s gonna be ok, we’re gonna make it be ok.”

They are bus drivers like the one who posted this tweet: “People are still depending on us to get them where they need to go. We will do what we gotta do.”

They are pharmacists like Danny Vertuno, who tweeted: “We are trying our best, the other day I went 9 hours without sitting down or taking a break. People yell at us constantly because they go to the doctor, get a RX, drop it off and it’s not ready in 5 minutes.”

They are the cashiers and stockers, the cooks and waiters, the delivery drivers, the maintenance and custodial staff, transit workers, nurses, therapists, medical techs an lab workers, day-care workers, and let us not forget the housekeepers, farmworkers and meat processors, many of whom are immigrants and undocumented aliens. Our nation often acts as if we do not want them here. Covid-19 has reminded us we cannot live without them. Every single day those in these roles and many others are out there risking their lives, making sure we can eat, stay physically and mentally healthy, and even be entertained so that we can survive.

We tend to overlook people in these roles or even view them with condescension. Now they turn out to be among those we need to rely upon most for our sanity and our very lives. We are learning to appreciate just how important they are, and how much they deserve not just our gratitude, but to be held in high regard, respected and honored for who they are and what they do, and the critical role they play in our society collectively and in our individual lives.

Rabbi Jack Riemer writes that the main lesson we should learn from the pandemic is to appreciate those who we might otherwise forget. In his words:

“If there is anything that we ought to learn from this ordeal that we have been through, I believe that it is our obligation, not only to honor the scientists and the epidemiologists and the leaders of government—-important as they are—-but that it is our task to honor the manual laborers, the people whom no one seems to pay any attention to—for they too played a vital and an indispensable role in getting us through this ordeal.”

Every year, on the high holidays, Rabbi Riemer calls up the synagogue’s donors to be honored for their generosity. On these coming high holidays, he plans to call up the maintenance staff of his synagogue to honor them for wiping down seats and prayer books and computers and such to keep the clergy, staff and congregants safe.

Rabbi Riemer will call on congregants to be grateful for all “unsung heroes” of the pandemic – “those people who cleaned and scrubbed the subways every night between one and five in the morning,” or who “cleaned the operating rooms between every surgery” and “the truck drivers who bring the food to your supermarket,” and the list goes on.

Rabbi Ilana Grinblat writes: “The pandemic has been a kind of Sabbatical year for our world – where we have ceased business as usual and the land is getting a rest. The ozone layer has started to rebuild itself due to reduced air pollution. Even those who were financially secure are experiencing financial uncertainty, and our perspectives are changing. Those of us who still have our health and jobs appreciate them now more than ever.

“In this time, the psalm’s prediction has come true: the neglected stone has become the cornerstone. The ignored people of our world have become its foundation.”

We must find ways to return the support that these individuals give us. To make sure they feel our appreciation. To ensure they are safe. To see to it that their needs are met. To treat them with dignity, honor and respect. To let them know they matter to us.

Think of all the unsung heroes that have touched your life. The ones you know personally. The ones you see, but you don’t know their names. The ones that you never see, never meet but you know that they are there. Keep them in your prayers. When you see them, let them know how much you appreciate them. When the time comes that they have needs, stand up for them.

We need to let them know that we value them as not the least, but the most important part of our society. Not just during the pandemic, but ever after as well.