Despite his intellectual honesty and courage, Rav Carmell was nevertheless very sensitive to the principle that “Not everything that one thinks should be said, not everything that should be said should be written, and not everything that should be written should be published.” His overriding concern was for the strengthening of Judaism; if something would not contribute to that, he believed that it was best not stated publicly. Simultaneously, he was acutely aware of what people were capable of comprehending and what would merely cause confusion, and when things should be limited to certain audiences.
The image of Rav Carmell in my mind’s eye, however, is not of his intellect or philosophy but of his extraordinary demeanor. To put it simply, Rav Carmell was an incredibly cheerful person. He possessed the charming habit of laughing as he spoke, with the sheer joy of communicating information.
When I finished my latest book a few months ago, I wanted to show it to Rav Carmell, but I was unsure of his state of health. I called his wife, and she told me that unfortunately he was in no shape for the task. In sadness, I hung up the phone. Then, a few minutes later, Rebbetzen Carmell called back to inform me that Rav Carmell heard what I had phoned for and was very enthusiastic to see the book.
Unfortunately, when I visited him the next day, I realized he was truly far too unwell to read it. It was painful to see how his health had declined. But in some ways he was still the same – beaming with pleasure on realizing that someone had come to see him.
I will miss him greatly.