Many have discovered inthe past few weeks thatwatching the news mightbest be something tak-
en in small measures.Whether delivered via the inter-
net, the television or in print, thenews these days is almost uniformlya chorus of despair and fear —death tolls climbing, infection ratessoaring, ventilators and protec-tive equipment insufficient, firstresponders overworked and hyper-vulnerable to the coronavirus them-selves.
Like so many others, NathanSchweid,a youthful member of theDenver Jewish community, found
himself vulnerable to the strange-ly addictive — and not necessari-ly good — habit of indulging intoo much bad news.
“I was finding myself becoming
obsessed with the news,” he toldthe INTERMOUNTAIN JEWISH NEWSlast week,adding that he found thesaturation coverage overwhelmingand discouraging.
Until he had an idea.Rather than surrender to hope-
lessness and woe, he decided todo something.
“I eventually saw that there wasan opportunity to help,” he says.“I realized that this would be theperfect outlet for me to spend mytime and energy.”
In less than a week, he realizedthat it was succeeding beyond hiswildest dreams.
S chweid’s idea is beautiful inits direct simplicity.
Realizing the incrediblyhard work that medical first
responders — paramedics, nursesand doctors — are doing to keepup with ever-increasing numbersof coronavirus patients,not to men-tion the risk of exposure they facedaily, he decided to do somethingto bring a touch of comfort and plea-sure to their arduous and per-ilous days: Give them somethinggood to eat.
space in an unending day todescribe his sacred work in themidst of a pandemic.
His faith-based resiliency in oneof the worst moments in recenthistory is so moving that it encour-ages the heart to face anotherday — no small feat for too many.
Kaye initially expresses his grat-itude to Rose and its staff: the doc-tors, nurses, healthcare workers,respiratory therapists, team lead-ers and a host of others. “Theyare our unsung heroes,” he says
repeatedly.Pre-COVID-19, Kaye woke up
“excited and energized to welcomemy multiple roles and the oppor-tunity to touch and interact with
patients, families and staff.”Every night he returned to the
arms of his family with a senseof fulfillment.
Over the past couple of months,the mounting awareness of Amer-ica’s vulnerability to COVID-19swept through the hospital, whichmonitored conditions in Coloradoand the US, and adopted CDC pre-cautions.
As things worsened over the last
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When eight-day-old EzraSamuel Knaster was wel-comed into the covenantwith his bris milah, there
were only four people in the room,including Ezra.
Ezra’s virtual bris — via Zoom— was another sign of the strangetimes of social distancing and quar-antine. It was also a statementthat no matter the obstacles, noth-ing can stop some revered ritualsof Jewish life.
Ezra’s parents Melanie and Bran-don Knaster knew that they werehaving a boy before he was bornMarch 26, so they planned on hav-ing a bris, on his eighth day of life— health permitting — with allthe usual elements of such a cele-bration. That meant a large guest
list, honors for family members and,of course, food.
By mid-March, the COVID-19pandemic started changing life aswe knew it in Colorado and else-where with suggested, then man-dated, social distancing.Melanie andBrandon began to worry how theywere going to make a bris for theirsoon-to-be born son.
When the social distancing guide-lines became so restrictive that noteven a gathering of 10 people wasallowed, the Knasters realized theywould need to have a bris withonly the baby, the mohel and them-selves in the room.
ZOOMbris
By ANDREA JACOBSIJN Senior Writer
By CHRIS LEPPEKIJN Assistant Editor
By LARRY HANKINIJN Associate Editor
FEED FRONT LINESContinued on Page 16
BRISContinued on Page 11
CHAPLAINContinued on Page 17
NEW YORK (JTA) —New York Rep. MaxRose has deployed withthe National Guard to
help set up field hospitals inthe city, among the hardest hitin the nation by the coron-avirus pandemic.
Rose, a freshman Democ-rat representing Staten Islandand parts of southern Brook-lyn, is the first member of Con-gress to serve in the militaryduring the crisis.
He’s a captain in the Army
Rep. Rose inNationalGuard
ROSEContinued on Page 16
P ARIS — Anti-Semitismhas plagued Frenchsociety for centuries,flaring up in times of
crisis — especially during epi-demics.
In the 14th century, forinstance,Jews were massacredin France during the BlackDeath epidemic after they wereblamed for spreading the dis-ease by poisoning water wells.
Anti-Semitesexploit thevirus
FRANCEContinued on Page 3
Comforting thesick at Rose
Food deliveries tofirst responders
A bris with four people in the room
Denver Health ICU first responders from the intensive careunit give a thumbs-up sign after receiving a meal from Feedthe Front Lines, initiated by Denverite Nathan Schweid.
Rabbi Jeffrey Kaye, head of chaplaincy services at Rose Med-ical Center, must remain outside intensive care units holdingpatients with COVID-19.
By CNAAN LIPHSHIZJTA
C H O L E R A E PI D E M I C I N V I L N A , 1 8 4 8 — P a g e 4
four to five weeks, Rose ramped upplanning, preparation, and intensi-fied safety protocols.
“With our new Covid reality, wemust be more creative yet still main-tain the important key componentsthat comprise the Rose community,”Kaye says.
“Rose is still doing what it hasdone for the past 70-plus years.Our lights are still on. Doctorshave delivered numerous babies dur-ing the pandemic,keeping the babiessafe and the mothers safe.
“They are bringing new life intothe world. It’s magical and empow-ering.”
Kaye paints a positive portrait,all of it accurate. But when askedhow many hours he puts in now,he hesitates.
“To be honest, it’s not easy to quan-tify. I don’t sleep much these days.My mind is racing and running, likeeveryone else here.”
He begins working in the earlymorning, then spends “many, manyhours”at the hospital. In the evening,he reads emails to see if someoneneeds help.
“Work really spans my entire wak-ing hours,” he admits.
COVID-19 exacts a heavy toll, yetthe price merely intensifies Kaye’spride in his chaplaincy and lovefor Rose’s tireless medical staff.
“I always knew I was the lucki-est person in the world because ofmy family and my job,” Kaye says.
“Now the blessings I felt beforehave magnified exponentially by theCovid pandemic,” he says.
“As I watch the genuine care, com-passion, sensitivity and love that thedoctors,nurses and respiratory ther-apists give their patients, and seesuch humanity at a time like this .. .”
A muffled sound escapes his cellphone.
“Yes, my voice is breaking,” hesays. “And I have tears in my eyes.”
R ose Medical Center sees twoto three dozen COVID-19patients, either presumptivepositive or awaiting test
results, on a daily basis. It has alsodischarged many who recovered.
Kaye, like all hospital employ-ees, wears a mask, practices socialdistancing “and everything else.” Heobserves these cautionary measureswith non-coronavirus patients aswell.
“Wherever and whenever possi-ble, I am able to visit patients in per-son using the appropriate caution,”he says. “I can still say congratula-tions or mazel tov to a mom who’sjust delivered.”
COVID-19 wards restrict the chap-lain to different levels of interaction,depending on the severity of the per-son’s illness.
Kaye’s communication optionsvary from standing on the other sideof a glass door using his cell phone,to entering a room masked and main-taining six feet of separation.
The latter, for patients showingimprovement, enables him to offerprayers and support sans phone anda glass divider. He calls it “thenext best thing” to pre-pandemiccounseling.
If a patient is in the COVID-19ICU, Kaye stands outside the glassdoor and calls the patient’s phone
on his cell.“If they are responsive and want
to talk, we can share prayers, bless-ings and talk about what they’regoing through.
“I am able to see and hear them,and they are able to see and hearme.”
Rose Medical Center provides cellphones, tablets and access to Face-Time for COVID-19 patients requir-ing these invaluable tools.
Kaye, who is very thankful fortechnological aids during enforcedisolation, says that the biggest chal-lenge he faces as a chaplain “wouldbe when it’s medically inappropri-ate to hold a Covid patient’s hand.
“That is part of my job. The heal-ing touch is vitally important.”
The final level of interactionencompasses unresponsiveCOVID-19 patients no longerable to speak. Kaye is no
stranger to this place, where lov-ing goodbyes caress death’s immi-nence.
“Being with patients of all faithsas they are dying is a vital part ofmy job,” he says.“I’ve also been withCOVID patients who are dying —but not at their bedside.”
If a patient is intubated (unableto breathe unassisted), Kaye looksat the person beyond the glass andrecites prayers into his phone as ahealthcare worker holds a phonenear the patient’s ear.
“I still feel as if I’m connectingin a meaningful way with thesepatients,” he says.
Kaye recited the Viduy (the tra-
ditional death bed confession), She-ma and Birkat Kohanim with a Jew-ish woman dying of the coronavirus.
“I performed these three majorbedside rituals over the phoneinstead of bending close to herear,” he says. “We try to be sensi-tive to the tradition, while at thesame time modifying it for reasonsof health and safety.”
No matter how hectic the paceor rigorous the demands, it’s notuncommon for a doctor or nurse tonotify him about a COVID-19 patientin need of a religious item to holdor hang on the wall.
Kaye rarely, if ever, returns fromhis mission empty-handed.
Visitors are forbidden at all UShealth institutions, including RoseMedical Center, in order to protectpatients, employees and communi-ties from the transmission andspread of COVID-19.
“It’s for all for the right reasons,”Kaye says of families unable to seetheir parents, spouses or adultchildren in person. Still, enforcedseparation from a critically ill lovedone is often unbearable.
“I accommodate the family’s needsin a multiplicity of ways,” he says.“The immediate physical presenceof a family member is my absolutepreference, but we are fortunate tohave tools such as cell phones andother resources.”
A daughter can still tell her moth-er how much she loves her. Spous-es hold each other’s eyes across avirtual divide. Grandchildren blowkisses to Bubbie on FaceTime.
Prayers are always encouraged.“I firmly believe in the power of
prayer,”Kaye says.“Prayer can heal.Of course we’re also praying for acure. But even if the body is beyondcuring, we can heal the soul, theemotions, the spirit.”
P andemics such as COVID-19,which demand self-isolationand quarantines, inflict a sec-ond pandemic of interminable
loneliness.Symptoms include depres-sion, anxiety and helplessness.
The last entry unleashes a litany
of affirmative protestations fromKaye.
“People who are self-isolating athome feel helpless, but I say no —they are doing their part,” he cor-rects. “Those of us in the middle ofthe hospital setting are so gratefuland so appreciative.
“I can’t stress this enough. You’reheroes too, by staying at home anddoing the right thing. What youare doing is every bit as impor-tant.”
Kaye also champions the anony-mous, essential employees whorisk their lives laboring to keepthe US and its citizens afloat amidthe relentless viral pandemic.
“Countless individuals are work-ing and volunteering to step upand provide for us, like people doingessential services,” he says.
“We don’t give enough of a shout-out to our garbage collectors andgrocery store personnel. Truckersare literally keeping this nationabove water.
“Yes, we are in pain,” he says.“Everyone is self-isolating and sac-rificing. People in the hospital aresacrificing. The truckers are sacri-ficing.
“Don’t think for one minute I takeany of them for granted.”
Kaye is a man of inviolate faith,not only in humanity — the doctors,nurses and medical staff he encoun-ters every day — but also in G-d.
“First of all, I strongly believethat G-d is present in each and everyone of our patient’s rooms; that Heis a comforter; that He is crying overthis child of His.
“In these most difficult of cir-cumstances, I feel G-d is present inthe amazing caregivers,” he says.“I can’t praise them enough. Theyare the face of G-d.
“And the physicians, nurses, res-piratory therapists and health work-ers are the hands of G-d.”
Acts of communal kindnessabound, evidenced by surprise bagsof groceries left at the door, aPassover meal or calls from long-lost friends or relatives.
“As a community, a society and apeople, I’ve never seen so muchtogetherness,” he says.
“Goodness in the midst of trau-ma is the faith of G-d.”
Aware that the interview isabout to wrap up, Kaye sayshe wants to share a story. “Imean, all of this is a story,”
he qualifies. “But what followsweaves it all together.”
One of the physicians at Rosestopped Kaye in a busy hallway and
asked whether the chaplain couldlocate tefilin for an intubated Jew-ish patient in the COVID-19 ICU.
“I was able to communicate real-time with the Rocky Mountain Rab-binical Council and asked whetherany of the rabbis had extra tefilinthat, due to health and safety con-cerns, would never be returned tothem,” he says.
Denver’s rabbinate quicklyresponded with countless offers oftefllin.
“I was able to pick it up andbring it back to the ICU,” Kaye says.“I worked with the nursing staff, andthey arranged for a nurse to bringthe tefilin into the special Covidroom.”
The nurse, who was Jewish,gently held the tefilin as she walkedinto the room and placed it tender-ly around the patient.
“I’m going to leave it at that,”Kaye says softly.“It says everything.”■
A chaplain’s life inside the hospital Running on all cylinders, Rabbi Jeffrey Kaye seeks to comfort from behind window
April 10, 2020 • INTERMOUNTAIN JEWISH NEWS • 17
N E W S
TAKING CARE OF THE ILLRabbi Jeffrey Kaye, middle, is surrounded by respiratory technicians who care for patients with COVID-19 and other illnessesat Rose Medical Center.
CHAPLAINFrom Page 1
‘The immediate physical presence of a familymember is my absolute preference, but we are fortunate to have tools such as cell phones and other resources’
‘G-d is present in each and every one of ourpatient’s rooms; He is crying over this child of His’
