For many decades, you served as a vehicle for chesed, a teacher of unfathomable simchah and joy in the face of untold suffering. 

And now, you need not suffer any longer. 

From the time you were a little girl, everyone knew that you were special. You were always happy, overjoyed to serve Hashem.

But Hashem chooses those truly special and unique individuals, who can grow despite all of their suffering.

With your extraordinary fortitude, you transformed the lives of hundreds of women and girls who came to be mechazek you, but left so much stronger than they came. 

Hashem tzuri ve’goali. 

Go’ali, Goli. 

To everyone with whom you interacted,  you were “Goli, my go’el.”

My friend. My source of strength. My rock. 

Yes, Goli.

Our family was one of those who gleaned from your greatness during times of challenge. My daughters would visit you, come daven with you at your bedside, where the Shechinah resided and never left. 

The Nefesh HaChaim teaches that we live in a world of parallel dynamics:

Olam, shanah, and nefesh. 

Just as there are holy places (olam, world), there are holy times (shanah, year), and, of course, holy individuals (nefesh, soul).

So, just as there is a Kodesh HaKodashim in the Beis HaMikdash, the holiest place in the world, there is a Yom Kippur, a day of purity that parallels the Kodesh HaKodashim, and there are sacred souls, individuals such as the Kohen Gadol, or, in today’s application, gedolei Yisrael who exhibit that kedushah in the human realm. 

Goli, it is a given that you were holy. 

Oh, so holy. 

But your holiness transcended the realm in which you resided. 

You, the holiest among us, became the Kosel HaMaaravi of Baltimore. 

Somehow, someway, your nefesh became a makom of sanctity. A sanctuary of kedushah. 

But how? 

The Shechinah only rests in a place of joy, so how can the Shechinah rest at the head of a choleh, a sick individual?

Perhaps we may suggest that while the body may suffer, the soul exalts in the diminishment of connection to This World and attaches to the World that matters. 

Goli, your brilliant and never-fading smile bore testimony that such a world could exist right here on this earth. 

So close to us. 

The hundreds of women who cared for you knew it. True, these incredible givers came with the best intentions. To daven. To visit. To shmooze. 

But they left knowing that they had been standing in the presence of holiness. 

And yet, despite the incomprehensible challenges you faced, you were down-to-earth and normal. 

You were very much a part of our lives. My children loved you. And we all admired your courage and strength and wisdom. You loved Torah and possessed an unquenchable thirst for more and more Torah knowledge. 

Confined to a wheelchair, you traveled daily to the Heavens and beyond. You lifted us and held us high. 

And you taught all of us that no one is limited. 

Goli mechayeves es kulanu. Goli obligates all of us.

Your life, and your being, forces all of us to know that we, too, can transcend everything that stands in our way.

On a number of occasions, I shared with you a story. It’s one of my favorites. 

And the story, although about a man who happened to also be from Baltimore, is really about you. 

One night, Joel Cordish, an irreligious college student, entered a convenience store in Baltimore, only to find himself at the scene of an armed robbery. Before Joel knew what was happening, a number of bullets hit him, knocking him to the ground with multiple wounds, rendering him a quadriplegic.

As he slowly adjusted to his new reality, Joel discovered that there is more to life than college and lacrosse, which had been the focus of his life until then.  Avraham Yehudah, or Reb Avraham, as he soon became known, decided to go to Eretz Yisrael to learn more about living life as a Jew. Although Reb Avraham's new life was difficult and challenging — everything he attempted required intense effort — once he decided to become frum, he went full speed ahead, eventually becoming a Tolner Chassid.

One day, a knock was heard at the home of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, rosh yeshivah of Yeshivas Kol Torah in Jerusalem. Sitting in a wheelchair at the door was Reb Avraham Cordish with a question for the rav. Taking note of the wheelchair, the rav’s assistant informed Reb Avraham that next time he wanted to ask a question, he could call on the phone; it wasn’t necessary for him to come in person.

Reb Avraham was wheeled into the room where Rav Shlomo Zalman sat, and he asked his halachic question. Rav Shlomo Zalman paskened that what he had asked about was permitted, and he wished him well.

The next day, Reb Avraham appeared at the door of the Auerbach home again. The rav’s attendant reiterated that there was no reason for Reb Avraham to come in person; a phone call would have sufficed.

Once more, Reb Avraham entered Rav Shlomo Zalman’s study. This time, the question was a tad different. “Rebbi, you told me yesterday that it was muttar. Was that l’chatchilah or only bedieved?”

Rav Shlomo Zalman reassured Reb Avraham that it was muttar even l’chatchilah. But Reb Avraham was still not satisfied. Although Rav Shlomo Zalman had already returned his attention to the sefer he was learning, Reb Avraham sat there, unwilling to accept what he had just heard without additional clarity.

“L’chatchilah for me, or for everyone?”

Rav Shlomo Zalman seemed startled that Reb Avraham was still there, but smiled. “Yenem’s bedieved is your l’chatchilah. Someone else's second best is your best.”

Reb Avraham immediately challenged the rav. “Why?”

Rav Shlomo Zalman looked at Reb Avraham and with compassion, but much conviction, stated, “Ki atah adam mugbal. Because you are a limited/restricted person.”

At this point, Reb Avraham stared at Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach and with respect mingled with a touch of defiance, refuted, “No, I am not! Perhaps things are more difficult for me than for others, but neither I nor anyone else is mugbal, limited or restricted. If you set your mind to something, you can do it.”

Inspired by Reb Avraham, Rav Shlomo Zalman repeated this story to people with challenges in their lives, who would claim, “I just can’t do it!” Citing Reb Avraham, he’d say, “Yes, you can. No one is mugbal. No one is limited!”

Goli, if there was ever someone who taught this lesson, it was you. 

We saw you in a wheelchair, completely incapacitated. But you never saw yourself this way.

One of your many admirers once went to visit you in the convalescent home, when you were still able to talk. You requested that she pick up three cups of ice cream: two vanilla and one butter pecan. Though she wondered why you wanted three portions, she didn’t ask any questions. If you wanted them, you clearly had a reason for it. Maybe you just liked ice cream?

And as soon as she arrived at your door, you led the way down the hall in your wheelchair and introduced your visitor to one of your “friends,” a woman who liked vanilla ice cream. In the room next door, the patient clearly suffered from mental abnormalities; she often went into rants. But you knew one thing. You knew that she loved ice cream. And when you gave her the next vanilla ice cream cup, instead of screaming and yelling, she looked at you with her human eyes and knew that someone loved her. 

The third cup was butter pecan. That’s what you asked for. That one you handed to a nurse at the nurses’ station, and she smiled. You knew that was her favorite. Not sure if anybody else knew that she loved butter pecan ice cream. But you did.

Your challenges never stopped you from giving.

And we, all of us, were the recipients of your love, warmth, and indescribable fortitude and strength.

Now, you are no longer shackled. You are free of your wheelchair. Your voice can now speak and even sing. Your hands can embrace.

And your feet can run. They will run to the Heavenly Throne, where you will sit alongside the greatest women who have ever lived. 

You will beg the Ribbono shel Olam to heal His children from the trials and tribulations of 2,000 years. 

The pain that you embodied. 

Yessurin memarkin kol avonosav shel adam. Suffering erases all the sins of man.

You are pure, pristine, and holy.

And you are no longer mugbal. 

Goli, you never were.