M E R I D I A N     M A G A Z I N E

The Book Fell Open to the Right Place:
By Sherlene Hall Bartholomew

While living in New York, I was invited by Joseph and Harriet Fibel, of Scarsdale, to join their Seder table. I had met Joe, then president of the NY Jewish Genealogical Society, at a Westchester County Genealogical Society confab. When I met him, I was still filled with excitement about a singular experience that had just happened, so told him all about it.

At one of the displays of family history resources there, I had randomly chosen a book from among many about Ohio history. While thumbing through it, I remarked to those manning the table that I sure would like to find the marriage of a certain couple from that state. No sooner did I name them than this book fell open to a page that had an entire paragraph about them, as their names practically jumped off the page to catch my attention!

As the back of my neck went electric, and my eyes teared, I forgot any sense of reserve and demanded of the startled men: “What names did I just mention to you? Look at this page—can you believe? Just look at this! This book fell right open to their names! Why, here’s their marriage date! Do you know how long I’ve been looking for this? I tell you, there really are angels guiding this work!”

They inspected the open page, acknowledged that I spoke those same names before I opened it, and seemed to be almost as excited and caught up in the moment as I. As I then met Mr. Fibel and shared this experience, I encouraged him to go over to that table, if he wanted witnesses to
a miracle.

That night I got a phone call from Joe Fibel. He said he was not one to tell stories about the guidance of angels, especially in public or group situations, but he had a few experiences of his own, doing family history, that he wanted to share with a believer. That was a long, fascinating phone conversation.

I hasten to add that such miracles are rare, in my own experience. Ancestral “finds” most often come through long, focused effort, though I cannot deny the continuous spiritual “high” that I feel while engaged in “The Search.” Elijah’s gift to those of us possessed with this magnificent obsession does not make the long hours of research seem the least bit arduous. Fact is, the hours fly by, and it’s with regret that we pack up, as the library closes.

Joe and Harriet, in extending their invitation for me to join their Seder table, were sensitive to the circumstance that my husband Dan and I had separated and were living in different states. It was a weekend when I would not have our children, and on learning from a cousin at the Society that I would be alone at the time of their celebration, the Fibels reached out—as do Jewish people everywhere, to those not necessarily part of their own community, who may be hurting and in need of fellowship.

I think gladly on that evening when, surrounded by Fibels who had come from near and far, I also took my turn reading at their large table from sacred text, reminding us that we are of Israel and are therefore a covenant people. I basked in the conviviality at this family event, so rich in tradition--delicious and nourishing, in more ways than one.

It soon became clear that various members of the family had different perspectives about some stories from the books of Moses that were remembered in the reading. I basked in the general atmosphere of sharing and acceptance. If there was argument over certain points, it was all accomplished in a spirit of “We are here in an atmosphere of mutual respect and shall all be heard.” This openness was also extended to me, as they invited me to share my view on what it meant to have a place set before the empty chair they reserved, near an open door, for Elijah.

With tender conviction I told about our LDS belief that on April 3, 1836, Elijah appeared to a latter-day prophet in the House of the Lord, fulfilling the promise in Malachi. I told them he restored keys that would “turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the
children to the fathers,” that peace might prevail (D&C 110). I said that I felt the Spirit of Elijah had already entered their home, as Joe led an organization dedicated to the search for Jewish family roots, and as all the family supported him in this and participated themselves.

I was touched by their respectful interest and encouraged to tell more, as they asked questions. While so doing, I caught a gleam in Joe’s eye, as he gave Harriet a knowing look. I got the distinct impression that they already knew the story, but wanted me to tell it—for my own sake! I was at home at their table, but Joe and Harriet were among many who helped me find the way back to peace in my own heart and home, surrounded by my own covenant family.

I can’t begin to express the gratitude I feel, as my heart now so easily turns, in tender love and respect, to my man Dan. I wonder at the blessings that have come to our children, despite—and perhaps even because of our trials. Through the search after my dead, I found the living, as well as new hope for myself. This fortifies my conviction that our Father commands us to regard our dead, so we can know what it is to live! (More about this in Part II of this column.)

As we gather in thanksgiving this season, let us open the door of our hearts to make place for Elijah. Let us, like the Fibels, spread a table that includes someone outside our community. Let us celebrate our hope for peace in our troubled world and for the freeing of those held captive in another.

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