MORRIS WEISMAN

MORRIS WEISMAN, of Philadelphia, PA, passed away on May 16, 2019, at age 98. Graveside services (at Montefiore, on May 20) were private.



The middle child of immigrant parents Frank Weisman and Lena (nee Plotnick), MW, born on August 12, 1920, had been the sole-surviving offspring of Frank and Lena's five, whom perhaps Chance symmetrically sequenced boy-girl-boy-girl-boy. As Harvey had two girls, Esther two boys, Morris a girl and a boy, Gertrude two girls and Victor two boys, Morris alone was blessed with a "king's family." Sir Morris B. Weisman was-for 64 years-the loving and devoted husband of the late GLADYS B. (nee GOLD, 1925-2012). He was the beloved and much admired father of JOANNE LEE (GEORGE) PACHTER and ERIC R. WEISMAN; a dear grandfather of THOMAS SEAN PACHTER; and a splendid friend and Rebbe-like personage to countless many, including, of course, his closest kin.



Honorable veteran of WWII (Coast Guard), happy day laborer (paperhanger), lifelong health and physical fitness enthusiast, etcetera, etcetera, MW was above all else a man of God, a handsome, kind, friendly, peace-loving, cheerful, quietly charismatic Master of the Word. Sir Morris knew his Bible, knew it quite well. No matter where any conversation might turn, he could and-when lights were green-often would cite relevant Scripture. He could also explain and expound upon it effectively. Many marveled at the depth and breadth of his wisdom and knowledge. But he was no pedant. He was simply a servant of truth. Truth indeed was written on his cherubic face, and evident in his nice and easy way. It was plainly visible in his radiant and beatific, blue-eyed smile. It could be felt in his unflappable calm. Indeed, Morris' biblical knowledge was not so much a matter of intellect. His, rather, was the wisdom of the heart. His ability to cite chapter and verse was dazzling. Yet, far more amazing was the dawning realization that Rebbe Morris had long and faithfully applied or practiced biblical counsel, that he had long lived and breathed the Word. If, for instance, he truly possessed "the peace that passes all understanding" (and some believe that he did), it was partly because day after day, across a span of 45-55-65 years or more, each and every day, at ever narrowing intervals and ever increasing durations, he continually practiced the instruction-whether implicit or explicit-given in biblical verses such as, "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee" (Isaiah 26:3; KJV). And "Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10). Sir Morris also liked Epictetus: "Think of God more often than you breathe."



Morris was the salt of the earth, the light of the world. And he found no greater joy than in making others thirsty for God and helping them find Him. It has been said that if one wishes to win some souls to God, it helps to be . . . winsome! MW was himself Marvelously charming, his character Wondrously attractive. When praised as such-as he often was-, Rebbe Moishe would humbly (yet proudly) attribute his winsomeness to the Lord, implying that he was steeped in the Lord, saturated with His Spirit. "It's not me," he would say, "It's God"-or something to that effect. To which, more times than not, he would add, "Praise the Lord!" The Rebbe found no greater joy than in glorifying God.



In memory of Morris Weisman contributions can be made to a charity or a cause of the donor's choice. . . . Thank you, Bugles Across America as well as the United States Coast Guard, or your representatives rather, for being there, on 20 May at Montefiore, to provide a Final Salute with Military Honors.



God only knows on how many occasions Sir Morris Weisman, whether in the company of family, friends, acquaintances or total strangers, pointed heavenward, and proclaimed, with rabbinic glee and fervor, "This is the day which the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." Throughout his long and blessed life, Morris Weisman was the prototypical positive thinker, the quintessential optimist. A paragon of gratitude and faith and hope and love. When you hear Louis Armstrong sing "What a Wonderful World" or Mario Lanza's "Look for the Silver Lining" or, say, Nat King Cole's "Nature Boy," think of Morris. Those would suit him well as theme songs.



To the very end of his glorious life and times, Sir Morris remained a child of God, a man of God, a friend of God. There was about him a bloom and glow. That too remained. As did his perennial youth. Even at 98, handsome still, his happy, innocent, at times even boyish countenance easily allowed one to envision him at 28 or even 18-and in between. You could readily see him aboard the USS Leonard Wood, during the war, at his post as radioman. Given his mastery of Morse code, throughout the years that he saw action in the Pacific he was officially designated "Indispensable." Sir Morris was a war hero. He was a stoic (much like Epictetus). Relatively speaking, he was the personification of renunciation. (All the better to practice Isaiah 26:3.) But he was no fanatic; he would quote from "Desiderata": "Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself." Morris was a man of moderation, given to the golden mean. MW was ultimately monarch of the Middle Way.



Sir Morris was a philosopher. Somewhat a pluralist. He was a gentleman. An athlete. A shepherd. A tzaddik. A teacher, a counselor. A very learned man! A lover of people, conversation and good cheer. Yet a lover of simplicity, silence and solitude. He was a diplomat. A peacemaker. A lover of laughter. A lover of wisdom. A lover of life. And yet, and yet: "O God, because your loving-kindness is better than life itself, I will praise you" (Psalm 63: 1, 3).



Sir Morris was a kingly man. A holy man. A godly man. A saint. And to the very end he remained true to his angelic, pure-hearted vision. Morris stayed true to his namesake: Moses. Sir Morris stayed true to the Good Book.



His last words were, "All will be well."



Ever so perfectly fitting for ever near perfectly faithful a man. . . .



"The words which express our faith and piety," wrote Thoreau, "are not definite; yet they are significant and fragrant like frankincense to superior natures."



My Beautiful and Blessed dad loved Thoreau's Walden, but not as much as he loved the Bible. . . .



The above passage from "Conclusion"-particularly the phrase "are not definite" -, might well explain


why. . . .