The Take in South Jersey | Two faiths, one transplant

It is more than just a good deed, or a mitzvah if you will, that the Rev. Karen Onesti is doing for Rabbi Andrew Bossov.

In volunteering to give him one of her kidneys, she has gone "beyond what anyone has a right to expect of another person," the rabbi said. "She is a hero. She is allowing me to complete my work."

The rabbi and the reverend are clergy in Mount Laurel. Both arrived in South Jersey about four years ago, and got to know each other casually in an interfaith group.

But the moment Onesti learned last winter that Bossov had a life-threatening kidney disease and needed a transplant, she unhesitantly offered him one of hers.

The transplant is scheduled this month at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. Tomorrow, they meet together with the surgeon for the first time.

Despite difficult rounds of tests for compatibility and her own health issues that were discovered during the year, Onesti has never looked back on her decision. "I'm not that kind of person," she said.

Stories of organ donation often make for poignant newspaper copy. When the tale is about two clergy of different faiths, it becomes a can't-miss story.

But you're not going to read about miracles in this story. Neither clergy wears religion on his or her sleeve.

While both are people of profound faith, neither sees the transplant as divine intervention. What is happening is part of a purposeful life that God intends for all willing to live it, they believe.

There are no Charlton Heston moments here. "I didn't have a vision," Onesti, 49, said as we sat in the Masonville United Methodist Church she pastors. "The clouds didn't part, and God didn't appear.

"I was just doing what I am supposed to do. Rabbi Andy needed a kidney. My family has a history of healthy kidneys, so I could give him one."

Said Bossov: "God isn't done with me yet. He still has work for me to do. That's what Karen's generosity means."

The senior rabbi at the Reform Adath Emanu-El, Bossov, 47, invited me to join him while he underwent dialysis, which he has been having for four hours a day, three days a week, since summer. It is one of the few times he sits still long enough to be interviewed.

I am familiar with kidney disease. I had a kidney removed surgically nearly three years ago, and have to undergo regular scans of the remaining one.

Fortunately, I have not needed dialysis. It is a very fatiguing process. Tubes take blood out, purify it, and send it back in. The rabbi's left arm looks like an aerial view of a busy highway interchange.

At the Cherry Hill dialysis center, more than a dozen bays were occupied by people like him. Many watched small TVs, listened to music, or dozed as a machine acted as their kidneys. The rabbi said he generally nodded off at some point. He also works. During his first hour, his cell phone was in frequent use. A congregant had died, and the rabbi was trying to coordinate the services with the funeral home and with his dialysis schedule.

"There are days when I think, 'How am I going to do all this?' - that maybe I should only work part time," he mused. "Then I'll say, 'Why did I think that way?' "

The pastor was late. When she arrived at the monthly meeting of the Interfaith Council of Mount Laurel in February, Onesti instantly knew "I had missed something."

She learned that the rabbi had shared that he had long been battling interstitial nephritis, a kidney disease caused by a reaction to medication previously taken for stomach illness.

His latest exam showed that his kidney function had dropped perilously low. He was now a candidate for a transplant. No relatives were compatible donors.

After the meeting ended, the rabbi stayed to talk to a new clergy member in town. The reverend hung around, too.

Finally, they talked alone.

"I'll give you one of mine," Onesti said.

"You don't know what you're doing," Bossov replied.

"Yes, I do," she insisted.

Her family had a history of long life. No one had suffered kidney disease. Her only caveat was that her husband, Frank, had to go along with it. She called him on a cell phone. "He was a typical husband," she said with a smile. "He said, 'We'll talk about it tonight.' " They did, and he agreed with her decision.

Months of tests followed. They had hoped to have the surgery in early summer after the rabbi's busy bar mitzvah and bat mitzvah season. But the pastor took ill. She needed a hysterectomy, and then a spot on her liver needed to be biopsied.

Today she is healthy and raring to go. She and the rabbi exercise as much as possible to be in the best condition. Barring any last-minute setbacks, the transplant will take place Jan. 23.

For the rabbi, the operation is complicated. His new kidney will be placed in his stomach area. His original kidneys, which still have some function, will remain. His recovery time is estimated at up to three months.

For the minister, it should be simpler. Her kidney will be removed through minimally invasive laparoscopic surgery.

That's how my diseased kidney was taken in 2004. I was back at work in three weeks.

I asked Bossov whether he would have made the same offer to Onesti if the tables were turned.

He hesitated and thought.

"I don't know," he said. "I well might have. I would hope so, but I can't say for sure."

Onesti said that answer was perfectly understandable.

"It is not something you decide until you need to," she said. "Rabbi Andy is right."

Through it all, there is humor. The rabbi jokes that maybe he needs to have the reverend's kidney go though a mikvah, the ritual cleansing bath required in converting to Judaism.

I tell the pastor. She laughs.

"I've told Andy that a lot of ham has been processed by my kidneys."