Deborah Daniel, A Woman of Faith

by Steven B. Orkin

I first met Deborah Daniel around 2014 through Sinai Reform Temple of Bay Shore. I remember thinking she seemed a little lost, that she and her mom had come to us in search of something. As it turned out, they found it. It is impossible to speak of Deb without referring to her passion for Judaism. Quickly aspiring to become a ‘Jew by Choice’, she exhibited a powerful, authentic desire to learn more about the faith, embrace it, and make it a part of her world. She was a ‘woman of faith’ in the best possible sense of the phrase, consistently attending services and adult education classes, working toward, and eventually achieving, official conversion to Judaism. 

Her passionate dedication inspired me then, and it continues to inspire me now. In these deeply troubled times, where religion is often used as a weapon, its ideals subverted for cynical or even sinister purposes, Deb Daniel was the real deal. In the final days of Sinai Reform Temple’s existence, a time of great difficulty and unpleasantness, I would not have blamed Deb for throwing her hands up and walking away from her newfound spiritual life in disgust. She didn’t do that. She dug deep, looked toward possibility and hope, rose above the nonsense, prioritized her faith over apathetic bureaucracy, and carried on. She made herself a new spiritual home at B’nai Israel Reform Temple of Oakdale and never swayed from her path of devotion. If I were building a temple and congregation of my own, she’s the first girl I would have called to be on the development team.

I can’t say I knew her very well, but I’m sure she wasn’t a saint. I’m sure she had quirks and shortcomings. I’m sure that like everyone else on the planet, she wasn’t perfect. But this does not preclude her from being remarkable, in her own quiet, simple way.

Deb Daniel didn’t cure cancer. She didn’t solve the world’s problems, and she wasn’t famous. But whether you’re a Jew, Christian, Muslim, or most any other faith, religious doctrine boils down to three basic principles: 

1. Love God.
2. Do the right thing.
3. Be nice.

Deb embodied all three. She conducted her spiritual life with joy, conviction, and enthusiasm. She treated those around her with kindness and sincerity. She loved her family (those with two legs and those with four) with passion and compassion. At the end of the day, what more do you really need to define a life well-lived? At the end of my time here on Earth, I'd be quite content to say that I accomplished as much as she did.

I’m sorry I never got to tell her how much I admired and respected her. She was smart, funny, and had a kind of guileless, no-nonsense sensibility about the world. I’m deeply grateful that my daughter Julianna and I got to spend some quality time with her at B’nai Israel’s recent outdoor picnic service. When Jules and I had first arrived for services that night, we scanned around, awkwardly looking for a place to sit. Deb graciously gestured to the two empty seats across from her and her mom, Alleyne, and invited us to join them. We talked about writing, cats, Julianna’s life at college, family, and a few other odds and ends. Nothing momentous. Just simple moments of friendship and connection. Toward the end of the service, she nudged her mom up to the ‘bima’ (for the purposes of the outdoor service, a folding table), taking her arm and walking her forward to receive a blessing in honor of her anniversary. Simple kindnesses, easily overlooked, often quickly forgotten.

But they matter. They contribute to the spiritual well-being of the universe. They help us keep the darkness at bay. I’d like to think Deb understood that, and that she actively acted upon that knowledge as she could, when she could.

Maybe that’s a lesson for all of us: Embrace the small moments. Extend the simple kindnesses. Appreciate and value life’s beauty in all its fragility and imperfection. Carry the good stuff with you, even when the bad stuff is weighing you down.

Deb Daniel’s passing on August 18, 2022, at such a young age is heartbreaking and tragic. I will miss her being in the world, but I will endeavor to keep a little of her light shining as I continue to move through it. I think most anyone who knew her will do the same.

Thank you for reading.

 

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