Israel’s 73rd Birthday and the Jewish Journey of the Past Century

Marta and Yosef Motzen were Holocaust survivors. Their son, Avremi, who was a student at the Kol Torah and Shaalavim yeshivas, fell in the Lebanon War when his tank set on fire. Immediately after the shiva, his friends decided to start a Torah class in his memory, in his parents' home. There are lots of classes set up in people's memory, but how many of those classes last for 37 years in a row? The class participants started out as boys, and today they all have grandchildren. Every three weeks, like clockwork, they arrive at the Motzen home in Petach Tikva. Avremi's father, Yosef, died a few years ago, but the class continues: some of the participants are rabbis and educators, some are businessmen, one of them is a judge - and all of their families know not to schedule any events on the night of “the class at Marta's.”

Israel’s TV Channel 12 ran a story about this class in 2019.

(You can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhPJt0baNjo) This is how the scene is described:

 

Marta sat in the living room, the number from Auschwitz on her arm, sitting across from Avremi's photograph, bearing his IDF ID number. When the friends entered one by one, and the sound of Torah learning could be heard from the living room, her face lit up. “There nothing else in the world like this,” she told me, “that people are so dedicated to elevating a friend's soul.”

That evening, after class, Marta felt ill and was hospitalized. Her son, the cantor Yaakov Motzen, recently informed me that she was growing weaker. On the eve of Yom Hazikaron 2019, Marta passed away, and she was laid to rest on Yom Hazikaron, Israel's Memorial Day. A life's journey of faith and heroism, lasting 92 years that passed through Auschwitz and Lebanon - and ended at the cemetery in Petach Tikva. This is the story of the Jewish Nation over the past century: The Holocaust, our Rebirth, our Torah. Our Hope.

We often hear about the flag of Israel in the news when a country refuses to show the flag at events such as international sports competitions. And how in recent years that has changed - in places such as Abu Dhabi and Doha.

Every year I return to these powerful words of Rav Soloveitchik zt'l, which sums up Yom HaZikaron and Yom Haatzmaut:

If you ask me, how do I, a Talmudic Jew, look upon the flag of the State of Israel, and has it any halachic value? - I would answer plainly.

I do not hold at all with the magical attraction of a flag or of similar symbolic ceremonies. Judaism negates ritual connected with physical things. Nonetheless, we must not lose sight of a law in the Shulchan Aruch to the effect that: “One who has been killed by non-Jews is buried in his clothes, so that his blood may be seen and avenged, as it is written, 'I will hold (the heathen) innocent, but not in regard to the blood which they have shed' (Joel 4:21).” In other words, the clothes of the Jew acquire a certain sanctity when splattered with the blood of a martyr.

How much more is this so of the blue and white flag, which has been immersed in the blood of thousands of young Jews who fell in the War of Independence defending the country and the population (religious and irreligious alike; the enemy did not differentiate between them). It has a spark of sanctity that flows from devotion and self-sacrifice. We are all enjoined to honor the flag and treat it with respect.

Humble Hounds and Boardroom Lions

        A few years ago in a column in the New York Times, David Brooks suggested that there are two models of leadership: boardroom lions and humble hounds.

        Boardroom lions are super confident, forceful and charismatic. They tend to be mavericks, always calling for serious and systemic change. These characteristics can be quite useful for leaders, whether in business or politics, or even one’s personal life. Yet research shows that these types of leaders can also be risky. Their confidence, coupled with a propensity towards change, can create achievements that are either fabulously successful or dismally miss their mark.

        Brooks contrasts the boardroom lion with what he terms the humble hound model of leadership. Humble hounds are less interested in their achievements and more interested in looking ahead for any weaknesses and areas of potential improvement. They are more likely to make calculated, less-sweeping changes and only after consultation with others. They depend more on team efforts, and are not interested in highlighting personal achievement. Jim Collins, author of the book How the Mighty Fall sums up the character of humble hounds as, “extreme personal humility with intense professional will.”

        In Pasuk Vav, Moshe says to Aharon: Kerav El Hamizbeiach “Come close to the Altar to perform your sacrificial service.” The Midrash picks up on the word “come near” and notes Aharon’s hesitance. He was ashamed to take on his role as Kohen due to his involvement with the Golden Calf. Only after being encouraged by Moshe does Aharon take up his priestly place.

        Moshe and Aharon are prime examples of the humble hound school of leadership. By the Torah’s own account, Moshe was the most humble of all men. In Parshat Shemini he demonstrates this humility by deferring to Aharon to take over in the Mishkan. When his words go unheeded, he is willing to respectfully listen to his brother explain his logic. And when Aharon’s logic is convincing, not only is Moshe willing to admit his mistake but Vayitav B’einav- he is willing to do so happily, without any hard feelings whatsoever. (In this week’s Parsha we also see Aharon’s humility up close. He is willing to face the consequences of his involvement in the Golden Calf episode. This is beside the fact that his entire life he was willing to serve a secondary role to his younger brother Moshe.)

        Whereas Moshe and Aharon are models of humble hound leadership, Nadav and Avihu were boardroom lions. They were intent on systemic change. According to rabbinic tradition, Nadav and Avihu would talk amongst themselves and ask concerning Moshe and Aharon, “When will these old men pass on so that we will become the new leaders of the nation?” Their fatal flaw was their arrogance. Rashi quotes the opinion that their sin was “Shehoru Halacha Bifnei Moshe Raban.” They did not show Moshe the deference that he deserved. Perhaps the clearest example of their arrogance emerges from the opinion in the Medrash that Nadav and Avihu never married. According to Medrash Rabba:

They were conceited, many woman awaited them eagerly (to marry them) but what did they say?

“Our uncle is king, our other uncle is a head of a tribe, our father is High Priest, we are his two assistants. What woman is worthy of us?”

        The deaths of Nadav and Avihu remind us of the challenges inherent in leadership and the danger that exists with arrogance. If Moshe and Aharon were willing to reassess and reevaluate their actions then all of us must be willing to do so as well, as individuals and as a community.

Yizkor: Not Sadness, Gratitude

 

      Marsha Kreuzman weighed only 68 pounds and was near death when American soldiers freed her from the steps of one of Hitler’s concentration camps where Jews were cremated.  She was 18 years old at the time and says she looked like a skeleton.

      Now, almost 90 years old, Kreuzman is still haunted by the bitter realities of her painful past. “They murdered [my father] in front of me” she said.  Her mother and brother were also killed.  There was a time, Kreuzman says, when she wanted to die too. “We knew that we were going to die, so we wanted to die sooner than later. Because of all the tortures, nothing to eat, nothing to drink, no wash, no going to the bathroom.”

      Kreuzman always wanted to thank her liberators. After settling in New Jersey she says she spent decades trying to track them down. But it wasn’t until this past October when she finally found an important clue: a 65th wedding anniversary announcement for Joe and Anne Barbella. The article, published in a local newspaper, noted that Joe was a WWII Vet and had served in the 11th Armored Division – the same unit that helped liberate the Mauthausen concentration camp.  That was Kreuzman’s camp. “I nearly fainted.  I still have a shock, really and truly” she said.

      Kreuzman looked up Joe Barbella, 93, and after a tearful conversation, visited him at his home.  As fate would have it, the two had lived in the same town -- just a few miles apart -- for more than 33 years. And they lived somewhat parallel lives.  Like Kreuzman, Barbella, also spent years talking to students about the horrors of the Holocaust -- insistent the world should not forget those who were murdered.  Two people determined to tell their stories. Now, the survivor and her liberator have become friends. Kreuzman calls Barbella a hero. “He deserves to be honored”, she said.  “Now I can rest in peace knowing that I found him and got to thank the Americans that liberated me.”

(As told by Rehema Ellis, Correspondent, NBC News.)

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      One of the main themes of Pesach is gratitude. The popular Seder song Dayeinu is an exercise in gratitude. Shira, song, is a vehicle for expressing our gratitude to Hashem. That’s why Hallel, the type we say at the Seder as well as the type that we recite as part of Pesach morning prayers all week, is called Shira, song. While anyone can (and should) feel gratitude, only free women and men have the opportunity to express gratitude whenever and wherever they want. It is therefore not surprising that the Pesach holiday culminates with the scene at the sea, during which the entire Jewish People gratefully sing the Song at the Sea. 

      On the last day of Pesach we recite Yizkor. These memorial prayers seem to be an odd choice to include in our Jewish holiday observance. However upon further consideration, Yizkor is a most appropriate way to end the Pesach season. In the context of Pesach, Yizkor is not meant to focus our attention on the sadness and loss of those dearly departed. Rather we remember these people as expressions of gratitude for the legacies they left behind and the impacts that they had on others; impacts which reverberate to this day.

      There is a custom to make a donation to our shul in memory of the people for whom we say Yizkor. Our shul is also deserving of our gratitude. It serves as a focal point for Jewish life and helps perpetuate Jewish values from one generation to the next. This Yizkor, I ask you to consider joining our Legacy Society. A legacy gift costs nothing now. But it immediately demonstrates your appreciation by including the shul in your estate plan. Please join this illustrious group of over 40 members who are already Legacy donors. To join the YIH Legacy Society just fill out this form here: https://images.shulcloud.com/406/uploads/Life-and-Legacy/FilableDOI2021.pdf

If you have any questions or to learn more, please contact me or Reva Homnick.

Eliyahu Hanavi, continued

 

Last week I mentioned that Eliyahu HaNavi serves as a connector between heaven and earth. He also serves as a connector in three other ways. First Eliyahu Hanavi serves as a connector between parents and children. In this week’s special Haftara for Shabbat HaGadol we read the last lines of the prophetic era, Malachi, in which he talks about Eliyahu Hanavi.

“V’Heishiv Lev Avot Al Banim, V’lev Banim Al Avotam”

One of the challenges of contemporary society is the disconnect that exists between generations, and especially between parents and children. Both sides feel marginalized and misunderstood. The result is that the next generations does not look back to the previous generations for the guidance and experience that they need, and the older generation does not teach the lessons or prepare for the future in the most effective manner. Since Eliyahu Hanavi has been on this Earth over many centuries, he is in a unique position to help bridge the gap that exists between the generations.

      One of the central themes of the Seder is to be like Eliyahu and create connections between parents and children.  Families get together and are forced to interact with each other. No separate rooms, no excusing yourself to go to the office (like parents often do) or to play video games (like children often do) or check their Facebook page (like everyone likes to do). We’re stuck with each other for a few hours- an extended period of time by today’s standards. The Seder is set up in a manner that encourages the different generations to talk to one another- to ask questions and to give their unique perspective. Children ask questions- but so do parents. Parents give answers- but children also share words of Torah. It’s a bi-directional relationship- just as the prophet tells us Eliyahu Hanavi will accomplish beyond the Seder night.

      Second, Eliyahu Hanavi connects questions with answers. In the Talmud, if an object or money is in doubt as to its rightful owner, one option employed is to be “munach at sheyavo Eliyahu”- leave it until Eliyahu Hanavi comes. Eliyahu will herald in the Messianic era, at which time he will answer our questions and resolve our uncertainties. Another expression employed by the Talmud in cases of doubt is “Teiku.” Literally this term means “let the matter stand, and remain unresolved.” However there is a tradition (quoted by Tosfot Yom Tov at the end of Mishnayot Ediyot) that Teiku is an acronym for “Tishbi yetaretz Kushiyot Va’abayot” – Eliyahu Hanavi (referred to as Tishbi in Melachim 1:17:1) will resolve difficulties and questions.” Asking and answering questions is a major component of the Seder.

      Some questions at the Seder have clear and immediate answers. For instance, the answer to the questions included in the Mah Nishtana is basically “Avadim Hayinu.” Some questions have no easy answer but the Passover story gives us hope and faith that one day there will be a satisfying answer. In Chasidic thought, the introductory question of Mah Nishtana Halayla Hazeh is understood as, “how do we make sense of the nights of Jewish history, the tragedies, the disappointments, and the uncertainties that we experience as individuals and as a nation?” The story of the Exodus serves as a guide for us. At the time, the Egyptian slavery was incomprehensibly brutal. Yet in retrospect, we can understand the importance of the slavery experience in shaping us into a nation. Slavery taught us to be sensitive and responsive to those who are vulnerable. Yetziat Mitzrayim is also the cornerstone of our relationship with and allegiance to Hashem.

      Eliyahu’s role of connecting difficult questions with their eventual answers, also teaches us that we must appreciate questions and answers as independent values and not necessarily dependent on one another. Sometimes, at the Seder and in life, we ask questions but we don’t receive satisfactory answers. Sometimes in life we appreciate the answer to a question that we never even asked. Eliyahu Hanavi reminds us that ultimately every question has an answer. But in the meantime, let us appreciate both questions and answers as independent values.

      The most popular and logical reason why we greet Eliyahu Hanavi at the end of the Seder is due to Eliyahu’s role in heralding the Ultimate Redemption.  In this way, Eliyahu serves in yet a third connecting role: He connects the reality of today with the promise of tomorrow. Even as we celebrate our initial salvation we appreciate that there is still work unfinished- there is a Messianic Age that has yet to arrive.

      Let us utilize the upcoming Pesach holiday to learn from Eliyahu Hanavi and strive to be connectors in our own right: connecting questions with answers, connecting parents with children, connecting the world that is with the world that can be. May our efforts to connect be met with success so that we may greet Eliyahu Hanavi speedily in our days.

Eliyahu Hanavi

 

The role of Eliyahu Hanavi and the lore surrounding his appearance at the Seder has grown over the generations. Rabbis as diverse as the Nodeh B’Yehuda, Chasam Sofer on one hand, and Chassidic Rebbes on the other have reported or had stories told about seeing or greeting Eliyahu Hanavi Seder night. So strong was his belief that the prophet makes a visit to everybody’s Seder, that Rabbi Shalom Ber Schneersohn, the 5^th Lubavitcher Rebbe, would not pour Kos Shel Eliyahu back into the wine bottle until he first added some wine to the cup, in keeping with the halachic requirements of a kos pagum- a cup from which someone else has drunk. Why is Eliyahu Hanavi an important mascot for our Pesach Seder?

There are many similarities between the character and persona of Eliyahu Hanavi and the essence of the Seder in particular and the entire Pesach holiday more generally. All of these similarities can be distilled into one: Eliyahu is our symbol of the ultimate connector. And Pesach is the holiday of connections. We see this in at least three ways.

Eliyahu Hanavi connects Heaven and Earth. He was a man, yet according to Chazal, he did not die in the classical sense. There is a famous Halachic question: what is the status of Mrs. Eliyahu Hanavi? Is she a widow, a divorcée or still married? Eliyahu went up to Heaven and comes back to earth for specific occasions. Eliyahu Hanavi reminds us that the chasm between heaven and Earth- though vast- can be bridged by adhering to the advice prescribed to us by God and His Torah. This was one of the great challenges that the Jews encountered as they prepared to leave Egypt: how can we serve a God that is supposed to be everywhere yet can be seen nowhere? This is one of the main reasons that Pharaoh did not, and could not, know Hashem. Pesach teaches us that Hashem is part of our world (burning bush, ten plagues, splitting of the Sea). He is not only the God of Creation, but the God of History. He is constantly coming down to us; we just need to be more like Eliyahu and recognize it. Just as we must appreciate when God comes down to us, we must also realize - being inspired by Eliyahu Hanavi - that we can reach God; both through rituals such as prayer and in our interpersonal relationships by emulating Hashem in His love and concern for humankind.

By existing in both Heaven and Earth, Eliyahu Hanavi symbolizes the possibility of connecting the physical with the spiritual. We can live lives of physical experiences and enjoyment and yet constantly be attached to the Divine. Rav Kook notes that we eat matzah twice at the Seder: once when we are hungry and once when we are full (Afikomen) - the purpose being to teach us that eating can be done to fill a basic desire or to be elevated as a service to God - and both are possible at the same Seder, in the same life.

One Year Later

Last Friday, Erev Shabbat Parshat Ki Tisa, I got a call from Dr. Roni Raab, Executive Director of the South Florida office of JNF. Last year, our annual JNF Partnership Weekend was supposed to take place on Parshat Ki Tisa. Early reports were already reaching us about the danger and spread of a novel coronavirus, and some shuls in the Northeast had already shut down. However in Florida no such actions had been taken- yet. The previous week our planned speaker from Israel cancelled. Earlier that week we decided that there would be no JNF-sponsored Gala Kiddush on Shabbat, out of an abundance of caution. However, the communal Friday night dinner was still scheduled to occur. When we made the decision to shut down our shul on Friday afternoon, I immediately called Roni to let him know. Roni responded that he fully supported the decision, but there were around 100 people who had signed up for Shabbat dinner and we needed to take care of them. Roni immediately called the caterer, sourced hundreds of disposable To-Go containers, contacted everyone signed up for dinner, and set up what can only be described as a makeshift emergency Shabbat food distribution site in the shul parking lot. In was that moment as I watched our members and JNF friends receive their elegant catered dinners to go- from the back of a catering truck in our parking lot- that I knew that the virus was very quickly creating drastic changes to our world. Roni called me on the first anniversary of that event to tell me that our shul and JNF (and he and I) will always share a special bond as a result of that event.

This Shabbat Parshat HaChodesh, March 13^th, marks the 1 year anniversary on the secular calendar of when our shul shut down due to CoVID. It is an appropriate moment to reflect on how much has changed and how much we have lost in the past year. Our Rabbis teach that a person begins to forget after a year. Some explain that this is why there is a mitzvah to hear Parshat Zachor once a year. After 12 months we begin to forget, and we need to be reminded. This is also why the longest period of mourning, for a parent, concludes after 12 months. The surviving child will continue to mourn, but our Rabbis understood that the perspective of that mourning begins to shift after a year. Even after 12 months, there is no forgetting about this pandemic era. We are still suffering from its impact. People are still getting sick, hospitalized and dying. Nonetheless as we reach the 1 year anniversary, it is an appropriate time to broaden our perspective. In addition to anxiety or depression or sadness that we may still be feeling, we should also embrace feelings of strength and resilience, gratitude and hope.

With the availability of three highly effective vaccines, perhaps it is feelings of hope and optimism that we should especially cultivate as we enter a second year of the pandemic. The CDC has issued new guidelines about how vaccinated people can begin socializing with others who are vaccinated, or even with a pod of low risk unvaccinated people, without masks or distancing. These changes do not yet impact our guidelines on the shul campus, but we are carefully following the updates and guidance, and we are optimistic that it will soon be safe to take additional steps towards “returning to normal”.

Let us not kid ourselves into thinking that a return to normal, as much as we want it, will be so easy for us to embrace. Dr. Lucy McBride wrote an op-ed this week (https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2021/03/09/weve-adjusted-pandemic-life-now-we-face-anxiety-leaving-it-behind/) in which she suggests that many will struggle with FON: Fear of Normal. As she writes,

“Now that we’ve adjusted to pandemic life- with its inherent struggles, stress, social isolation, emotional toll and hidden silver linings- it’s understandable to experience emotional whiplash even as trauma recedes. I see it in my office every day. From specific worry about being infected with the coronavirus to generalized anxiety about resuming normal activities, pondering our future can generate ambivalence and even outright fear.”

Many have wondered why the Jewish People seem so ambivalent and anxious about leaving Egyptian bondage, to point that some sabotage their Exodus and many never leave. As the pandemic recedes, I have a better understanding: Just as it was easier to take the Jews out of Egypt than it was to take the Egypt out of the Jews; so too it may very well be easier to remove the pandemic from among us than it will be to remove the pandemic from within us.

Let us acknowledge this Fear of the Normal. Let us support each other in this stage of the pandemic, just as we have done during the past 12 months. With Hashem’s help the upcoming month of Nissan will be one in which we celebrate an Exodus from darkness to light and from despair to hope; in those days and in our time.

 

Ki Tisa

 

      Towards the beginning of Parshat Ki Tisa Moshe is commanded to build the Kiyor. The command’s placement in Parshat Ki Tisa is strange. The command to construct the Mishkan and its vessels was already delineated in Parshat Teruma.

      The uniqueness of the Kiyor goes further. In Parshat Pekudei, the Torah gives us an exact accounting of the precious metals used in the construction of the various Keilim, and here too the Kiyor is absent from the list. The Kiyor stands alone twice. Why?

      Rashi explains that the bronze of the Kiyor is not accounted for because it was not constructed from funds and materials dedicated to the general Mishkan building fund. Rather the Kiyor was funded by donor-directed gifts from the righteous Jewish women who contributed their personal mirrors for the Kiyor. That explains why the Kiyor is missing from the summation in Parshat Pekudei, but it does not explain why it stands alone in our Parsha this morning.

      The Midrash Tanchuma provides background information to this donation. It seems that Moshe was hesitant to accept the women’s donation of their mirrors. It is understandable that Moshe, who was the epitome of humility, would have difficulty accepting an instrument of vanity for use in the Holy Temple. That is why Hashem had to tell Moshe: “Accept these mirrors, they are more precious to me than anything else.”

      While still suffering as slaves in Egypt, the husbands could not even think about having children. The Jewish women understood that even in difficult times children are a blessing and a necessity for the future of the Jewish People. So with the help of their mirrors they would seduce their husbands in order to perpetuate and increase Bnei Yisrael. The Kiyor stands alone not only due to the source of its donation, but also due to the incredible lesson: the holiness of children and the Mitzvah of child rearing. 

      Rabbi Stephen Baars, creator of a marriage and parenting seminar, argues that many interpersonal conflicts between spouses and friends could be solved if we just extended the underpinnings of the parent child dynamic to our other relationships.

      When it comes to raising children, parents expect hard work and do not have expectations in return. When there is some positive return on the investment of parenting, we are pleasantly surprised. For example, if one of my children (when they get older) would make the family dinner- I’d be thrilled. Not only thrilled, but I would shout from the rooftops and let everyone know. In all families, spouses make dinner or do other chores all the time. Our friends also do us favors, both small and large. Do we stop to take pleasure in that moment, or do we take it for granted? Everyone would agree that parenting is all about giving. Why can’t other relationships be predicated on that same spirit of giving?

    When it comes to our children, we are success-focused. If a child has a problem, most parents will leave no stone unturned in order to find a fix to the situation. And yet when it comes to marriages and relationships, people are often too quick to walk away from the situation.

      With our children we can forgive and forget. We may be disappointed, but we move on and look forward to better things. Why can’t that same charitable spirit be the basis of all of our other relationships?

      We now understand the uniqueness of the Kiyor and why it must stand alone. The washbasin symbolizes the sacrifice of the righteous women in Egypt to have children. The Kiyor also reminds us of the unique effort and selflessness that is required in the parent-child relationship. As the mirrors on the Kiyor reflected his image, I imagine the Kohein thinking about the underpinnings of parenting that can be carried over to other relationships in our lives. And as we think about Parshat Ki Tisa, so should we.