Yesterday, Van Cliburn, one of the most celebrated concert pianists in history passed away. When I was six years old, I began to take piano lessons. My father, z”l, was insistent that his children be musical, as he was quite the trumpet player, having studied with John Phillip Sousa’s first trumpeter, Frank Simon, at the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music just before the outbreak of the Second World War. At the time that I had begun my lessons on our Gulbrandson spinet piano, Van Cliburn had triumphed, winning the 1st Tchaikovsky Piano Competition, then held in Moscow under the Soviet Union. For an exercise in humility, watch the Youtube of his historic performance. He returned to New York to a ticker-tape parade.

One year after his victory, my father enrolled me in the after school program at the St. Louis Conservatory of Music. He had continuously exposed us to classical music and I will never forget when he brought home the RCA recording of Van Cliburn’s performance of the Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 3 performed at Carnegie Hall with Kiril Kondrashin as the conductor. At first, I did not like it all, for I was far more enthralled with the likes of Gershwin and his Concerto in F than with this music that began with such a simple theme and then became increasingly complicated; not enough melody for this nine year old boy, except that ‘boring’ little phrase at the beginning. I truly did not understand it and did not connect to it at all. However, over time, thanks to my father’s incessant behavior of putting the record on for me to listen, nearly every Sunday afternoon, over and over again, I began to understand. Much later on in life, whenever I would go for a run in training for marathons, I would put that record on in my head (the ipod had not yet been invented) and when it finished, I was about 43 minutes always into my run. It was a wonderful way to pass away the time, the adrenalin rushes from the music, the uplifting themes, the demonic aspects, all of it to this day remain forever etched in my consciousness.

As an aside, very early on, any hopes that I had of becoming a concert pianist quickly subsided when I listened to others play; even those of my own age. I did not have even the rudiments of the “gift.” It would take me forever to get the music into my fingers (a phrase used by pianist Sally Pinkus once when I was talking to her about how she memorized these great works). Moreover, I was far too emotional in my playing. Whenever I tried to play at recitals or for anyone, my hands would simply shake uncontrollably; not a good foreshadowing if someone wanted to fulfill the following terrible joke. A man walking in the streets of New York, asks another, “How I get to Carnegie Hall? The man responds, “Practice.” No amount of practice would ever get me to that level. It was true then as it is today for me. However, this never deterred me from listening and being moved by the music.

Later on, while a teenager in Chicago (we had moved), I became a concert pianist aficionado, and overtime I saw the likes of Horowitz (twice), Ashkenazy, Dichter, and others whose names escape me. At Orchestra Hall, there was a Sunday afternoon piano series and I would often take the L Train (the Lake Street L for those from Chicago) down to Michigan Avenue to buy the tickets, often waiting in line.

The true inspiration for all of this, was Van Cliburn. After I had first moved to Oak Park, Illinois, I learned that Van Cliburn was coming to, of all places, Concordia College, a Lutheran College, in River Forest, Illinois. It was about three to four miles from the High School. I was so excited that I called Concordia and spoke to a woman, who was impressed, but told me that tickets would soon be gone. She promised that if I came there, by the end of the day, she would hold a ticket for me. This was in the morning – somehow I had managed in-between classes to use a pay phone and called.

Chicago was then known for its unpredictable weather and on that particular day, there was a terrible snowstorm. Nonetheless, I walked the 3 miles up Lake Street, making a right on Harlem Avenue to Augusta Avenue and then left onto August and into River Forest; another half-mile or so and on the north side of the street was the College. I barely made it in time.

When I arrived, I was drenched in snow and a little cold. The woman and I began to talk about Van Cliburn. I told her of my ‘relationship’ to this artist, and she must have sensed how excited I was to go to this recital. I paid for the ticket and she said for me to wait, that she had to get something. She said, “I want you to have this.” It was a ticket to go backstage for an after concert reception to meet the artist that was obviously for very special people (i.e. big donors and supporters of the College).

The concert was on a weekday evening. My seat was in the center of the balcony. The hall was filled to capacity. I sat back and if memory serves me correctly, he played an entire recital of Chopin. Of course, it was so very moving and ovation after ovation filled the audience at the end of every piece. Even from the nosebleed section where I sat, one could see the very large hands, the thin fingers, and the grace at which he played. I had never seen or even heard anything like that before and perhaps since. There was power to his playing to be sure and a moving gentleness as well; a sight of grace.

However, the most memorable moments for me were yet to come. After the concert, I went backstage and the kind woman, who handled the tickets, introduced me to Van Cliburn. I was a fourteen year-old, awe-struck really, by this person. This man, who had conquered the Soviet Union, bridged the cold-war, had received standing ovations in concerts all over the world, and whose recording of the Rachmaninoff Concerto No. 3 I had now committed to memory, was standing right in front of me. What did he do? He graciously extended his hand to shake mine and said, “So very nice to meet you.” When I extended my hand eagerly in response, he took his other hand covered the entirety of my hand easily, as if I was someone he had known before, like an old friend. I still remember it to this day; his warm smile, his graciousness, his gentleness shown to this young boy who had just moved and had very few friends. It was one of those moments in a person’s life you never forget.

I followed his career, his personal triumphs, his retirement, his return to Russia to play and the critics who often said he needed to do less concertizing and more study. However, two things stand out.
First, he was the true “rock star” of that age and introduced many, many people besides me, to the great classics who might never have listened to the likes of Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Rachmaninoff, and Prokofiev, were it not for him and in my case, a father’s exercise in ‘tyranny’ on a Sunday afternoon.

His gender orientation perhaps today would have been more easily accepted than in his own time. As long as it was kept private, and he was a private man to be sure, he could enjoy the enormous responsibilities that come with such fame, notoriety, as well as the burdens and that come with transcending one’s art and one’s time in history.

As beautiful and as wonderful as his pianism, the touching of the heart, his graciousness and his love for everyone that he encountered were equal to the beauty of his playing. He gave these gifts to the world, and especially to a young, lonely boy, who, years later, still remembers the touch and embrace of his hands; hands that were the conduit to the greatest of composers the world has ever known. His smile and his love for each soul, large or small in stature, is something that I learned on that beautiful night, so long ago. In our tradition, we say “May his Soul be Bound in the Bonds of Eternal Life.” May it be forever so for a man who gave so much to make the world a beautiful place for all.

Yesterday, Rabbi Jonathan Spira-Savett, in his talk on Conservative Judaism urged all of us to study, to learn, and to apply the teachings of our sacred texts from this perspective; to see what lies underneath to derive universal and particular ethics from this vantage point. This is what can lead to new principles, not originally found in the Torah, but derived therefrom, such as כבוד הבריות – respect for the dignity of each human being. This concept, he taught, was then used as basis to give acceptance and sanction, from a Conservative Jewish perspective, to same gender unions, human sexuality in all its varied expressions. This contrasts sharply, and traditionalists might say override specifically Leviticus 18:23 that states לא תשכב איש משכבי אשיה תועבה הוא – a man should not lie with a man as he would lie with a woman; it is an abomination. The idea that a general principle could override a specific prohibition in the Torah is a significant line in the sand between traditional Judaism and all other branches.

A different problem, yet the same challenge is presented in this week’s portion “Terumah”. It has two meanings; one is simply an offering that each individual was to bring to the Tabernacle. The other represents a portion that was later to be brought to the Cohanim by the Israelites as part of their giving thanks to God for their produce (wheat). This became known as the “heave-offering.” No “heave-offering” or for that matter any such sacrifices or temple worship has been practiced since 70 c.e. when the 2nd Temple was destroyed.

Yet, this same term Terumah finds expression in the Mishnah, the edited, redacted version of the תורה שבעל פה the Oral Law – by Rabbi Judah HaNasi and his colleagues at Usha in or around 200 c.e. In 1st Mishnah of Berachot, the question is asked, “From what time may we recite the Shema in the Evening.” The starting time is from when the Cohanim would enter the Temple to eat their Terumah. This is what we refer to as the סתם משנהmeaning that this portion of the Mishnah is undisputed. Rashi clarifies that the Cohanim would enter the Temple proper after going to the Mikveh at בין השמשוש – that is twilight; the 18 minutes between candle-lighting and actual sunset. At its conclusion, they would enter and eat the Terumah (the appearance of the 3 stars).

A question immediately arises. Why, 130 years later, would the editors of the Mishnah link the recitation of the Shema to an institution that has been destroyed instead of simply stating at sundown? There are several possibilities.

One is the actual preservation of this practice in the hopes that the Temple would one day be rebuilt and the practice reinstated. Another is that this too came from Sinai, the commandment of the Terumah, came from Sinai, and thus is Divine and must be preserved even if, in 200 c.e., it would never be reinstated.

Finally, if we are to apply a Conservative Judaism approach, we might ask, “What is the significance their linking the recitation of the Shema to a state of ritual purity.” Let us take the “Torah scroll” and role it back a few parshiyot to Yitro, where the 10 commandments are given. There, the “raison de’tre, the mission statement of the Jewish people is to indeed be a ממלכת כוהנים וגוי קדוש – a kingdom of priests and a holy nation; which Rashi understands to mean that everyone is to be a priest; not just a particular group of male individuals.

Hence, what the Mishnah could be saying (note the word “could” and all the ambiguity that goes with it) is that we are to be in a state of purity when we recite the Shema in the evening. The eating of the Terumah by the Priests is associated with purity and with the recitation of the Shema. Hence, one could envision the Rabbis at Usha preserving the sacred history of the Temple worship, but also bringing forward the idea that the recitation of the Shema in the evening ought be recited/read in such an existential state of being; that is one of purity.

The purity that occurs after one immerses in the Mikveh is not something that is practical for any of us here this evening; the polar bear swim

notwithstanding. How might one achieve, in the absence of such a locus, such a state of purity as the religious state of consciousness envisioned by the Mishnah?

There is, in Judaism, the concept of preparation as a means to holiness. Granted, there is the debate within our tradition, that Sabbath is, whether anyone elects to keep it or not, holy. Yet, if we are to experience this holiness, it requires preparation. Our living spaces need to be cleaned. We take showers and perhaps ought to dress differently. We light candles and prepare our food. It this preparation that becomes the Mikveh to the Terumah of today, which is the Shema, the holy food of what we are to be, “A Kingdom of Priests.”

For us to be in a state of holiness, akin to the Cohanim, we must prepare ourselves in ways that we do here each Friday evening. The cooking of the meal, the discussions as to what kind of service we are doing, the setting aside a portion of our food for the poor, and the lighting of candles are just a few of the ways that we create a state of ritual purity. Before we recite the Shema this evening, let us engage in Jewish “mindfulness” of what it is that Shema is actually teaching us.

It begins with call to understand the unity, the essential uniqueness of G-d. This is why we close our eyes during its recitation; to bear inner-witness to the incorporeality and God’s unity both inside and outside of our minds; God is the unchangeable force – the only One – where there is no difference between what is understood and what is.

The second piece leads from this recognition. The verbs are the key to understanding the Shema’s. Love, teaching through our actions and words at all times, that is when we are walking, when we are sitting, when we are lying down, and when we arise. Binding them to the works of our hands and that they should be “ever-present” in our eyes. We are to write them in all of our entrances where we live.

As you can see from this sermon, we have gone far from the idea of the Terumah as envisioned by the Torah and even that of the Mishnah that are simple, concise statements of laws and timing that have no practical relevance to our lives today.

We learned from Rabbi Savettt’s lecture on “What is Conservative Judaism and is it relevant today?” something quite important. If we engage in this approach to study, it is possible that we can bring these teachings forward and create new meaning through which these rituals may then speak to us. These are approaches to a state of purity, holiness, and offering through our words and through our deeds; those things that give expression to our deepest commitments to God and to כבוד הבריות – human dignity. Shabbat Shalom.

Proclaim Freedom for All: The Use of Torah in American Politics

Delivered at Rollins Chapel

Introduction

Forty-two years ago, I had the privilege of studying at the Hebrew Theological College in Skokie, Illinois. The Rosh Yeshiva (the Head of the Yeshiva) was Aharon Soloveitchik, a brilliant scholar, Talmudist. He was a man who was as comfortable in academia with a Ph.D. from University of Berlin as he was with a page of Gemara. You knew that you were in the presence of genius. Apples do not fall far from the tree and today his grandson, Rabbi Meir Soloveitchik, continues this great tradition of scholarship at Yeshiva University. His grandson is not afraid to be involved in the politics of our time; nor was his grandfather, the latter an advocate in his time for civil rights and for ending the War in Vietnam.

This past summer, at the Republican National Convention, Rabbi Meir Soloveitchik gave a stirring invocation. Whether one agrees or disagrees with his form of political activism, as his grandfather might have, all of us can say with great pride that both the Jewish Bible and Israel were etched into the consciousness of those at the convention and those watching on through the various media. The theme of his invocation was taken from Leviticus 25:10, the passage wherein we are to proclaim liberty throughout the land, which is inscribed on the Liberty Bell. He spoke of our freedoms and those of Israel as beacons of light unto the world.

The use of the Bible was also invoked by President Barack Obama in his comments to the Union of Reform Judaism biennial convention. The first twelve minutes were wonderful, when he talked about the bar and bat mitzvah season that his daughters were going to every weekend with their friends. He described the long discussions about the dresses they could wear to the parties and negotiating the time, they had to return from the party. At one particular dinner, Michaela said to him, “You know Dad, at every one of these they give something called a d’var torah. She went onto explain to him what that meant. At this point, rather than being a parent who learns about Jewish culture through his children, his speech began to resemble the invocation of Rabbi Soloveitchik as he advocated a particular political point of view that he claimed was grounded on the Jewish ideal of tikkun olam (repair of the world) and that through the use of the word הנני – a word in that week’s Parashah – one had to be present to do the hard work to advance the President’s program.

Neither Rabbi Soloveitchik nor President Obama “misrepresented” the text or Judaism. Both made American Jews proud that our faith was center stage. However, they did not tell the whole story. Obama’s approach was so broad that it is a little unmanageable in a Yom Kippur morning sermon and his use of the Hebrew word הנני (here I am G-d, ready to do that which you command) opened the door for whatever one’s political agenda might be and have it cloaked in the

symbols of that which is Divine. It was also difficult because of his repeated use of word tikun olam created, as my teacher Rabbi Ben Zion Wacholder, z”l, might say if was alive today, “problems.”

The use of Scripture and sacred text in our world today is my theme for this morning. I believe we have something important to contribute, not in terms of political advocacy, for this is question of conscious. Politics come and go. The Torah, however, is sacred. How do we preserve our tree of life – עץ חיים – in a society that is evolving and where separation of church from state is a cherished ideal? How do we legitimately extract ideals from these texts and then advocate for them in a society of diverse faiths, beliefs, and non-beliefs?

In discussing this question, I will focus on Rabbi Soloveitchik’s use of Leviticus 25:12 for its singularity, as it is a little more manageable than the sweeping conclusions of our President and the repeated use of the complex idea of תקון עולם.

A Framework Derived from my Teacher

I have studied Torah for a long period time. After 5 years of study at Hebrew Union College, I thought I had a solid foundation. But after 5 years of graduate study and now 7 years of study with a group that meets once a week and is only half-way finished with the Jewish Bible (Kings I), I am aware of its complexity as

a moral and legal narrative, regardless of the time and place in which we live. This is due in part because our interpretive tradition can date as far back as the 1st Temple period (circa. 900 to 586 b.c.e.).

I learned four principles in Biblical exegesis and its application from my teacher, Rabbi Wacholder, z”l. The first principle was to cite the entire verse, even if it seemed irrelevant, and especially if it seemed to refute the principle that I sought to derive from that part of the verse that I deemed favorable. The second principle is related to the first. Be authentic to the entire passage and its context. This protects the text’s sacredness. Third – one that he always cautioned against – was to make sure that a minimum to read and to cite the Rashi. This would help to prevent overreaching which leads us to the last. Fourth – avoid sweeping conclusions in the application of the principles to the problems of today.

To summarize, the four rules are as follows:

1. Cite the entire verse.

2. Be aware of the context in which the verse appears.

3. Study and explain how the tradition may have understood the passage.

4. Be tentative in the application of such conclusions to today’s world.

These rules would help preserve the sacredness and authenticity of the text. Equally important, it would help insure against overreaching.

Leviticus 25:10

וקדשתם את שנת החמישים שנה וקראתם דרור בארץ לכל-יושביה יובל הוא תהיה לכם ושבתם איש אל אחזתו ואיש אל משפחתו תשובו:

Moreover, you shall sanctify the 50th year and proclaim freedom throughout the land to all of its inhabitants. It shall be unto you a jubilee and you shall return each person to his inheritance; you shall restore each person to his family.

The Context

There are three components to this passage; two not mentioned in the invocation. The first is to sanctify the 50th year as one of jubilees. The second is the proclamation of freedom for everyone. The centerpiece of his stirring invocation was this declaration of freedom. However, two other components were not mentioned. These were as follows. One, you (second person plural) shall return the original inheritance to the person, and each man should be returned to his family.

Let us begin our discussion with background material as to this phrase “You shall return the original inheritance to the person.” When the Children of Israel were to cross over into Israel, the land was to be divided according to tribe. This is detailed both in Deuteronomy and in the Book of Joshua. In each tribe, there were families to which a portion of that land was to be given. Every person, except those belonging to the tribe of Levi, was to have a homestead.

Here is where the “returning” portion beginning in the 50th year occurs. If in the course of 50 years one needed to sell his land to provide for his family, pay off a debt, or transfer the land and become an indentured servant, the sale or transfer was not permanent. Every fifty years, the land would be returned to the original family.

People could sell, mortgage, and the like. If, however, one defaulted on a secured loan, the mortgagor could take the land, but only for a limited amount of time; that is until the year of jubilees. Moreover, if one wanted to either sell one’s land or give a tenancy to harvest the crop thereon, the number of years left for the jubilee had to be carefully calculated to assess its true value.

This proclamation of the year of Jubilee was to be made in the 49th year on Yom Kippur. The Shofar was to be sounded and then in the 50th year, the land would be returned to its original owner. No one lost his or her land forever. The land would always revert back. As indicated, a Hebrew indentured servant was to be returned as well to his family, even if taken as a slave in the 48th or 47th year.

In the 50th year, after liberty was proclaimed, the land was to lay fallow and everyone was to live entirely off the land. One was to welcome the poor, the orphan, and widow onto her or his property and to partake of whatever grew naturally.

One could assert that the commandment of the יובל – the year of Jubilees – was to provide everyone a fresh, economic start as part of this liberty. One other point must be stressed. This commandment and most others only applied to the Israelites in Israel. It had no application to other nations. The 613 commandments, save for seven very general ones, were only intended to be for our ancestors and by extension to us. The proclamation of freedom, in theory, applied only to the land and people of Israel.

Read the Rashi

One of the common mistakes I made when studying our sacred literature was to try to draw some grand conclusion; that is to over-apply the text to reach some universal principal or ideal. When I would do so, my teacher would wait for me to finish and he would say, “Nu read the Rashi.” This was his gentle way of telling me that before I became too carried away, I should study at least just a little more. Let us see how Rashi, the scholar par excellence of the tradition, understood this passage.

Rashi explains each of the major terms used in this passage. In hallowing the Jubilee year, it shall be proclaimed by a בית דין – a rabbinic court. It is a sacred proclamation that is religious in nature. וקראתם דרור – and you shall proclaim liberty. However, the focus was one intended for Hebrew slaves; whether one had

his ear bored to show that he was to be ruled by another beyond the six year limit referred to in Exodus or whether one whose six years of indentured servitude had expired.

Rashi cites a Midrash of Rabbi Judah in which the etymology of the word דרור is explored. This term means dwelling – like דירה –, which in Modern Hebrew means apartment. In this context, Rabbi Judah provides that one may dwell wherever he or she may so choose and is not under the authority of others. Freedom in this sense meant economic freedom from the rule of others.

היובל הוא – It is a jubilee. It is so called because the word also means horn and thus is synonymous with the שופר. Once again, the passage has both religious significance as an independent year of observance and has a direct connection to one of the richest symbols of these ימים הנוראים – the Shofar. The last two terms ושבתם איש אל אחוזתו and ואיש אל-משפחתו תשובו refer to both the original land that his family had inherited upon entering the land and the reference to family is to the one who had his ear bored. In Exodus, when a Hebrew indentured servant was liberated at the end of the six-year term, he was to go free without his family if his “owner” had provided him with a wife. Even the children would remain, for they were ‘owned’ by the Master. In Deuteronomy, the family of the indentured servant, regardless if they were his before or given to him by his master, were to also be released at the end of the six year period. Moreover, the owner is to give

them provisions so he truly can get a fresh start. Keeping it simple, however, in the year of jubilees, he was to be reunited with his family. As a consequence of the Jubilee, he and his family became completely free.

Application to the United States of America

This part is the most difficult. Liberty, freedom, and justice for all are principles that each of us learn as children. One could argue that to take select phrases from the Bible and to use them to help further promote these deeply held values is to the social good of our country. One could also suggest that all Rabbi Soloveitchik did was take the Jewish Bible and quote a section that promoted values that exist separate and apart from religious doctrine. Only good can occur for we show that we are a part of our country and seek to be part of the political dialogue and discussion.

Yet, I believe with all my heart, that above all, that the rich and vibrant textual heritage needs to remain sacred and above the use of political discourse. The use of our sacred texts is a complicated process. Sometimes after years of study, I find that simply trying to understand the Torah is arduous, let alone apply its teachings, its principles, and ideals to our world. One could go down a wild course about the economics of the Bible in defining liberty as being economic restoration and that goes down an even more dangerous road in our society.

It is also quite clear that this proclamation invoked a religious time; a sacred time, like a Shabbat or Festival. The sounding of Shofar on Yom Kippur – a day in which to fast, to repent, and to pray – suggests that the pursuit of freedom is not a cause for the kind of celebration reflected in our country on the 4th of July, but rather one of solemnity and linked to holiness.

It is interesting the words chosen in this verse are ושבתם and תשובו, for in each word the root is שוב, which means to return or restore. This same root is also used to form the word תשובה – repentance. One could suggest many things about this passage where we are commanded within the context of Yom Kippur to proclaim liberty throughout the land. The passage could be used by anyone, whether conservative, centrist, or liberal. Instead of being a time for joy and for applause to celebrate, it could also be used as a time for national introspection, of serious reflection about the kind of society we currently have and the kind that we seek to achieve with a sense of deep respect for our neighbors and our fellow Americans.

For us to be good citizens and to make our contribution to this wonderful country that we live in, we must be knowledgeable of our Scripture through study and reflection. It is only then that we will truly be able to separate church from state, so as to underscore just where one ends and the other begins.

Amen.

We are all in this Together: The Stories of Yosef Weber,

Delivered at Rollins Chapel

Dartmouth College

Introduction

The prophetic reading for Yom Kippur morning is Isaiah Chapter 57:14 through 58:4. There are two sections that I wish to read. The first is as follows:

This is the fast I desire: To unlock fetters of wickedness, and untie the cords of the yoke; to let the oppressed go free; to break off every yoke. It is to share your bread with the hungry, and to take the wretched poor into your home; when you see the naked, to offer clothing, and not to ignore your kin.

If you banish the yoke from your midst, the menacing hand, the evil speech, and you offer your compassion to the hungry and satisfy the famished creature – then shall your light shine in darkness and your gloom shall be like noonday.

I want to read a short story of an aspiring young author by the name of Yosef Weber. He has won literary prizes for his depiction of shtetl life. He is described as Hasidic, a pious individual who is grounded in Torah and well respected in his community, yet knowledgeable and engaged in the real world. His story-writing capability is every bit as good as Safron’s, Chabon’s, Singer’s, or Wiesel’s.

In Order to Fully Appreciate His Work

The setting is a shtetl and centers on the role of the kehilla, the Jewish community’s elected leadership and a wheat merchant by the name of Reb Chaim. Everyone in the Shtetl(s) had a vote, but some more than others based on the extent of taxes they had paid the year before. If you paid more, then you had more votes.

The Kehillah’s primary functions were to levy and collect taxes then use these funds to provide for the poor, for burial in appropriate cases, and to secure the services of both a Rabbi and a Shochet – a kosher butcher. Another important duty was to secure wheat for Passover in order to make Matzah, and that is the subject of matter of Yosef Weber’s short story.

The Kehilah would do this once a year at the beginning of Adar, about 45 prior to Passover. They would call a town meeting. All the area wheat merchants would be invited. There would be an auction for this contract. The wheat merchant would speculate on the true cost of the wheat against the bid that they would wager. The lower the bid, the better it would be for the Kehillah so as to make it affordable for everyone, for the poor must also have Matzah.

For those of you that might have difficulty with this concept because it involves math, the wheat merchant might bid the contract at say 1 zloty (Polish currency akin to a dollar) or so many groshen (pennies) per bushel. Let us say, he would bid 1 zloty ($1.00) per bushel and that the order would be for 50 bushels. He would then go to his own vendors or markets and try to purchase the wheat for less money; an example might be $.50 groshen (half a zloty). Their profit would be 50 groshen, or 100% profit.

Let us begin.

The Story

The Shtetl waited with impatience. With kindness, the first bird of spring announced better or brighter days ahead. The long winter was already on its way out. Odors mixing winter and spring filled the rooms of the house. Ceilings were torn, spider webs everywhere, and water mixed with dust would stream from the walls.

The floor was covered with a thick coat of wet mud where planks disappeared. The small windows sealed with earth after the holiday of Succoth accumulated moisture and turned to a green slime. Through these windows, the mud-covered rays of the outside tried to enter the house.

The mist and the melting snow added a depressive feeling. The old worn clothes itched and scraped the body. The hay of the mattresses was already rotten and spilled from the beds. The air in the room was stifling. Filth surrounded us and the youth was like all youth. How could we escape a bit from the room? However, the holiday of Pesach knocking at the door.

The first day of the month of Adar, between the Mincha and Maariv service, the Shamash of the shul banged his bony hand on the table and announced in the name of the community that after the services there would be an auction for the Pesach flour. The announcement evoked a great deal of joy from the membership; a sort of holiday feeling swept through the air and warmed the entire shul. Happiness was written on all the faces. The hope for spring, flowers, grass and promenades was on everybody’s mind. People started talking. It took a while until the congregation finished the Maariv service and quieted down for business. The various shul activities like the Mishnayot study group that met every evening, was suspended due to the Auction. Their tables emptied and orphaned for this evening. The lamps in the area gleamed a bit weaker than other days. Here (in the Bet Midrash, House of Study) sat people in winter evenings who studied and frequently day dreamt. Young boys would spend entire evenings studying the Talmud and often think of their future. Suddenly, the area was deserted.

The services finished, clusters of congregates formed to discuss the matter on hand. Next to the door and near the stove stood a few sacks of flour to show and their owners, the wheat merchants. These merchants discussed all kinds of possibilities and deals in order to form a cartel that would set the price and so they would bid as a unit. However, all efforts to form a cartel failed and the merchants rushed home to bring money for the deposit that would be needed if they won the

auction. In another area of the Shul stood the jokers of the crowd who made fun of the way the business session was conducted.

Meanwhile the Shamash was very busy carrying messages back and forth, while merchants grew more and more moody. Next to us stood a group of cheder boys listed all the items that their parents would purchase for them for the Pesach holiday: new suits, shoes and hats. Their mouths salivated when they described the taste of the matzos and potato latkes. Profusion of words and noises and above us scattered the smoke of cigarettes and pipes away.

Suddenly, a loud noise was heard. The Shamash banged the wooden hammer on a table and stood up on a bench in the corner of the eastern wall, so as to be closest to Jerusalem, and so that he would tower above the congregation. His glazed eyes looked toward the ceiling and his head tilted to a side that gave him a saintly look. The yellow goat beard completed the picture. He announced that the auction has officially begun. The anticipation of the meeting grew by the minute. Haim, the biggest wheat merchant, moved to the big table covered with a green tablecloth. The movement was difficult and slow since the shul was packed with so many people. The people were jealous as well as respectful of the position of Haim.

Two candelabras stood on top of the table with burning candles. At the head of the table sat the rabbi and next to him the head of the Kehillah. A pen, paper, ink, and the seal of the Kehillah were placed on the table. Alongside of it sat the members of the kehilla board, their faces stern and serious. Haim reached the table and counted his deposit money. Meanwhile two other groups were formed who sent their representatives to the table. The rabbi then spoke at length about the laws of kashrut for Passover, the duties of the mashgichim or religious supervisors to oversee the safekeeping and use of the flour for Passover. The speech was followed by the leader of the kehilla who discussed the financial aspect of the purchase of the flour, the financial situation of the kehilla and so on.

Haim the wheat merchant looked askance at all the other merchants and chewed one wheat kernel after the other. He paced back and forth and seemed to talk to himself in an angry tone; his heavy gray black moustache prevented others from hearing. His eyes half closed and his forehead deep in thought he seemed determined to move ahead. Indeed, he took several steps to the table and announced in his loud and husky voice ninety-four groshen. The audience began to murmur, the faces of the leaders indicated discomfort.

Haim noticed the situation and stated that he could not do it cheaper. The leader of the community signaled to the Shamash to start the auction. The latter immediately began in his melodious tone, ninety-four groshen for the first time and ninety-four groshen for the next time. Suddenly the audience protested vociferously, screams and shouts – a robbery, murder, so expensive, stop the auction! Do not sell to the thief. He will make a fortune. Let the kehilla buy flour. We will bring flour from distant places! This community belongs in Chelm screamed a troublemaker. All other interested merchants added fuel to the incitement of the audience. No one should deal with this dishonest merchant; in all likelihood, we will never get fine flour.

Haim was mad and stormed out of the shul, bunch of beggars, I will show you, he said to himself.

The hammer banged again, the congregational outbursts stopped, silence in the shul. The Shamash voice intoned again, ninety groshen for the first time and the next time and the suddenly – a stern look from the leader of the kehilla stopped the Shamash in mid-air. The latter read the message and pointed to his nose as if to say, I understand and his hand signaled that the bid would fail. The Shamash started again the bid, ninety groshen for the first time and ninety groshen for the next time and sei gesund – to your health, he added. The latter remark appealed to the religious people and the atmosphere of the shul calmed down. The audience loosened up and jokes and wisecracks started to make the rounds.

The tension disappeared and joviality returned to the shul. Shlome, a happy Jew with a red nose and a potbelly rubbed his hands and slapped his nearby neighbors saying that happy days were here again. The Shamash’s voice thundered again, eighty-five groshen for the first time and eighty-five groshen for the next time and eighty-five groshen for the first time. The audience that protested earlier so vociferously did so not out of stinginess. However, it did not want to be made a fool. The people knew that Haim was going to make money but they wanted it to be fair.

Haim was full of anger, a plague on you he said to himself, even if I have to add to the deal, I will add but the deal will be mine. He ran to the table and shouted eighty-three. The kehilla leader winked to the Shamash to end the auction. The latter started, eighty-three groshen for the first time, eighty-three groshen for the next time and eighty three groshen for the third time. Mazal Tov to Reb Haim!

The Auction

This is a story about spring and renewal. Despite the poverty of the Shtetl, the mud-floors, the dirt, the rotting hay, there is the smell of spring and Passover.

This festival symbolizes the best – a desire for new clothing that no longer scrapes the body, shoes, hats, and most of all ensuring that everyone has Matzah for Passover. The people of Weber’s Shtetl see beyond this mud, dirt, rotting hay, and the slimy green oozing from the windows. It is a story about making real the message of Isaiah that we read on Yom Kippur in ways yet to be revealed.

There is communal concern for the poor. The price of the wheat has to be low enough so that the poor will have dignity by being able to purchase the matzah. [תורה אחת יהיה לכם] – one law for everyone.

In Shtetl life, nothing is more important than learning and prayer. There, older men study Mishnayot, while the younger students. Texts in both provide that if all 612 commandments were on side of the scale and the study of Torah on the other, the two would be evenly balanced. Hence, the significance of suspending the study of Torah in a House of Study so as to take care of the community should not be lost on any of us.

The only thing that is not dispensed with is תפילה – prayer, nothing more than talking to God. When that is finished, a tablecloth is spread, candlesticks are used to provide light, and the town meeting begins. The Rabbi teaches the importance of kashrut, because the Auction must begin with an everyday commitment to kedushah, holiness. There are the merchants who understand the importance. At the end of the day, everyone has to do the right thing. The

hollering, the shouting, calling Chaim a gonif (thief), is the “stuff of communities”; not unlike town meetings or some Board Meetings that I have attended. Haim has to have that contract, for he must do good in the world, he cannot leave the community to its own devices. Profit is neither the motivator nor the leverage in this deal. It is the mitzvah of making sure that every single person will have matzah on Passover. No one is going to “outbid” him.

It is pride, ego, even if for a little less money, to do a public mitzvah for this little Shtetl. Weber wants us to see that life is a celebration when we care for everyone as a community, even if we call someone a gonif or shout and scream at one another.

Weber is teaching us in the Auction that we are all in this world together; rich and poor, healthy and sick, single, married, with children, without children. Weber gives us Haim who has to have that contract because Haim has to be a macher in the community. However, what did that mean? It meant helping the community and the poor so they could have Matzah on Passover. This is the world of Yosef Weber and it has become our world tonight on this Yom Kippur.

Yosef Weber and Kol Nidre

Yosef Weber was born in the first part of the 20th century in a town called Brezower, Poland, not far from Korcyna, Poland, the 2012 site for Project Preservation. We discovered this short story at the end of the Yizkor (A Book of

Remembrance about the Jewish Community of Korcyna) that was published some 20 years after its physical destruction.

In the Yizkor book, he was described as a kind soul, always ready to help. He personified Torah by always showing respect for each person whom he met. He was well read in religious matters and also had a fine general background. He had a gift to describe types of people, scenes, pictures of daily life, and the ability to write stories.

Thus, in 1929, he entered The Auction in a contest sponsored by the Warsaw Yiddish newspaper, Haint (Today). He was awarded 2nd prize for this story and received the sum of 50 zlotys – in today’s currency a little under $16.00.

Twelve years later, in 1941, he and his wife were transferred to the Korcyna Ghetto. There, he was forced to serve in the Judenrat. He remained kind to all under the most horrific of circumstances. One year later, in 1942, he and his wife were executed by the Nazis. They may have been shot or sent to Belzec, the death camp that was located nearby. The record is unclear. It hardly matters.

What Matters Tonight

Yosef Weber’s work lives on. All of you now know who he is and more importantly, how our ancestors focused on the truly important things in Jewish life; community, respect for all, concern for the poor, and hope for a better tomorrow by ensuring that the community have matzah on Passover. Chaim was a wealthy man,

not because he made a good living as a wheat merchant, but because he had to get that contract, at all costs, even if he lost money on the deal.

Tonight, we have performed a mitzvah that is every bit as important as providing Matzah for everyone. Let us read just a bit further from the tomorrow morning’s prophetic reading:

From your midst shall arise rebuilders of ancient ruins, you shall restore foundations laid long ago and you shall be called, “Repairers of broken fences, the restorer of lanes for habitation.

Tonight, by hearing the writings of man who would otherwise have been forgotten, as would his community, you have become the rebuilders of the ancient ruins. You have restored the foundations that were laid long ago. You have repaired one of the many broken fences and have restored a lane of habitation that extends from Sinai to this evening; one that no person or people could ever cut asunder.

I beseech the Heavenly Court on this Kol Nidre to find that the prophetic truth of Isaiah fulfilled by this community this evening. And as such, as its Rabbi and advocate, that you ‘O God grant favor unto your people; that you O’ God set this community astride in the heights of the earth, and allow them to enjoy the heritage of its ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah.

Amen.

Tumah and Torah

Delivered at Rollins Chapel

Dartmouth College

Introduction

It was a summer ערב שבת and I was hiking the Appalachian Trail towards Holt’s Ledge. I was going to the Ruddemacher cabin for a Hillel Shabbaton. Most of it was uphill. I was rushing because I was late, having first done services at the Roth Center. By the time I had arrived, I was soaked in sweat. I needed a shower, not to mention that I felt chilled as the cool, night-air pierced my clothing.

A traditional Shabbat would have mandated a shower, putting on fresh clothes, long before sundown, so as to welcome in the holiness of the time. Instead, as I approached the cabin, I found myself thinking of the common phrase, ‘Cleanliness is next to Godliness.’ There is an equivalent biblical term to this time worn teaching and one that I was keenly aware as I arrived at the cabin. I felt טמא, unclean, and not ready to לכבוד השבת to honor the Shabbat and to experience the holiness of it with anyone.

Each of us experiences this state of טמא because we ‘see’ the Holy and we “see” ourselves as not prepared for it, yet we want to be there. I have found that routine and tending to the necessities of life are a breeding ground for the טומא. Whether it is שבת, רשה השנה a beautiful life-cycle event such as a wedding or Bar/Bat Mitzvah, or the anticipation of a serious moment in one’s life, we often sense that we are not in the right state of mind. Our tradition would frame it that we are not in the right state of being. The ‘right’ state in certain times in one’s life

is that of טהור a state of cleanliness, of ritual purity and this morning I want to suggest that טהור – purity – and אהבה – love – are closely related ideas in our tradition. As we will see and as John Lennon once wrote in his song “Mind Games,” Love is the answer” to the טמא of our lives.

The Book of Love and the Laws of the Shema

The Mishnah Torah (lit. the teaching or retelling the Torah) remains today one of the great works in all of Jewish literature. It was completed by Moses Maimonides in 1177.

The text is divided into 14 “books” or treatises. One of these is ספר אהבה – the Book of Love. No, it is not the first thought that might have come to one’s mind. Perhaps if it were, it would have sold a few more copies. This section deals with how to show love towards God, who, moving a few years forward from the 12th century, was once described by Robert Frost as the “Greatest of all generalizations.” Perhaps he was describing that which cannot be described, God, as a way of referencing both the universality of the expression and its lack of definition. Frost might agree with Maimonides that simply because something cannot be demonstrated to be true through logic, experimentation, or be defined, does not mean that such an object, entity, or being is false or non-existent. Instead,

to leave the mind open and truth a possibility, we may generalize because of a sense of its truth that goes beyond our capacity to verbalize.

Let us return now to Maimonides’s Sefer Ahavah. There, we find a fascinating discussion of טמא and טהור – impurity and purity regarding the laws governing the recitation of the Shema (הלכות קריאת שמע). Can one recite the Shema while being in a state of ritual impurity – טומא – for one is reading, not only words of Torah, but also expressing one’s ultimate devotion to G-d? This includes the affirmation that one loves G-d with all one’s heart, one’s soul, and one might. Maimonides gives us a history lesson that takes us back to the time of Ezra (circa 526.b.c.e).

The Scribe Ezra, who lived in the first Exile of Babylonia and his rabbinic court, decreed that the Torah should not be read by someone in a state of טמא. From this, he ruled that no one should study Torah or say words of Torah in such a state. Instead, one must first remove the טומא, through an act of ritual purity, such as going to the מקוה – the ritual bath- and then engage in reading of Torah.

It is here that Maimonides writes something quite remarkable

However, this decree of Ezra did not include all of Israel for the majority of the community did not have the strength to fulfill it. Therefore, it became a nullity. Israel was accustomed to reading the Torah and reciting the Shema, the consummate expression loving God, even within a state of טומא. Words of Torah do not accept טומא. Rather, they forever stand in their purity, for it is stated at Jeremiah 23:29, “Surely, they are words of fire, sayeth the Lord.

Maimonides concludes: Just as fire cannot receive טומא – impurity – so too words of Torah that are likened to a fire, of which the Shema is a part, cannot receive טומא.

Love Conquers Impurity

Ezra was the Moses and Herzl of his time, for he returned our exiled ancestors from Babylonia to Israel. One of the books of our Bible bears his name and recounts his story. The Talmud compares Ezra to משה רבינו, Moses our Rabbi. Overthrowing a decree of Ezra could be analogous to disregarding a command from Moses.

However, our ancestors did this and this is part of our tradition. Nothing can separate a Jew from love of God at any time. No one has the right to deprive anyone of this love at any time. A human being must be able to love in order to give sanctity and holiness to life. The right to love God, to love life, regardless of time or space, is inalienable.

The Torah, regardless of circumstance, remains pure, even when we compromise its ideals and deepest values out of necessity.

How does this teaching of the importance of love apply in our time? Few would assert that sports are more important than the ideal of the Sabbath. However, we engage in these and other activities. Each year I see students studying in the halls of the Roth Center on Rosh Hashanah and on Yom Kippur. Some are in classes as we speak. It is not because if questioned they would say Dartmouth is more important than sacred observance. It is just the world we live in and all of us are doing the best we can.

We come home from work and we are too tired to study, to read, to reflect, to volunteer to give צדקה because we may feel exhausted. It is the furthest thing from our mind. Some people work hard both at work and then in their personal lives, tending to a compromised loved one, an aged parent, or a sick child. It feels endless at times. We feel as if we cannot return to that state of טהור of purity where we can experience the קדוש – the holiness and sanctity of life in the moment.

כל ישראל – all of Israel – have taught us otherwise. We can become טהור – pure – at any moment by expressing our love to God and by extension to others because אהבה and holiness are never ordinary. Love conquers the ordinary because the Torah, on which love is based, is an ideal. It is akin to an eternal fire that can never be extinguished by the idea that life is nothing more than ‘the daily bread’ that we must have. It never accepts the טומא that comes from our daily struggles and existence and our strivings, and compromises.

This Torah is the one that is in the heart of all Israel. It is the one that we are commanded to speak of each day, with all our hearts, our soul, and with all of our might. Our essence symbolizes all that is good in the Divine creation.

True, I was accepting the טומא, accepting it with each step towards Holt’s Ledge. By the time I arrived, I was a mess. But once we started, lit candles, made Kiddush, and talked about the meaning of Kabbalah over hot dogs and hamburgers, it was one of the most beautiful and unique Shabbats of my fourteen years at Dartmouth.

I learned through that experience that we are capable of overcoming the ordinariness of life through love of God and people, regardless of whatever came before, regardless of the difficulties of the day, the struggles and hardships that each of us confront.

Rosh Hashanah is the time to turn inward and outward to acknowledge the basic truths of our lives. Love is the answer to that which is ordinary, sometimes sweaty, and often just plain unclean. These 10 days of Repentance that began last night is the time to remind ourselves of the possibility of purity, sanctity, and love at every opportunity. It is a time to this basic truth, learned and taught long ago by our ancestors, never to be forgotten, be it here, our work, our homes, or on some trail called Appalachian.

Amen.

מעריב רשה השנה

דבר תורה

יהיו לרצון אמרי פי

May the Words of My Mouth

Delivered at Rollins Chapel

Dartmouth College

Introduction

Many years ago, I took my voice teacher Ruth Morton, עליה השלום, to this very Chapel.  I had worked with others to design a Rosh Hashanah service based on the extraordinary diversity of the Jewish people.  The broad range of Jewish expression unto God could be found from the traditional hazzanut of Eastern Europe to the beautiful melodies and creativity of the Reform Movement, which included the use of musical instruments.

כלל ישראל  embraces the principle found in that beautiful Midrash that everyone who stands at Mt. Sinai heard the identical sound of God, but each heard a different message.  Could there be such a response to God that reflected the unique understandings of each of us as we stood at Sinai so long ago. This remains the great challenge of not only this service, but of the Jewish people and the world.

I called on Ruth Morton, for she was Jewish, her father was a Cantor, and she was a graduate of Juilliard and had sung leading roles in many of the great operas. Most important, she would be unrelenting in her criticism and would tell me straight if the music was too broad to hold everything together.  How could Reform liturgy and beautiful camp-inspired songs that many grew up singing exist side-by-side with some of the greatest cantorial music ever to have been composed; from Lewandowski to the organic hazzanut that would grow out of the Jewish experiences of the old country?

I also feared that that this service would cross the line between kavanah – intentionality and the tachanun –prayer as supplication – each aspect coming from the deepest part of our soul on the one hand – and aesthetics on the other.  People might not pray. Instead, they would listen tothe beautiful harmonies that Bonnie Kimmelman, Patricia Fisher, Kathy Parsonnet, and Karen Harris create, alongside the extraordinary musicianship of composer and Professor Larry Polansky.  It would lead to an appreciation for the aesthetic, but it would not be prayer.

Thus, in my worry, I brought Ruth Morton to this Chapel and it was an effort for her to get her, as she was elderly by this time.  It was quite warm inside that August afternoon; not cool like this evening.  I had my guitar and did the entire service.  Ruth Morton would always be honest.  She listened and assured me that there was a beautiful flow.  As to whether people would pray or listen, she said she had no control over this, but that I should not worry too much about it.  This service was born a vision that to this day remains burdened with doubt and worry.

The Symbolic Nature of This Service

The purpose of these Yamim Hanoraim – the High Holy Days – is תשובה – repentance. It is a time to turn inward and outward towards that place in the heart where G-d can be found and where G-d may be found between the spaces that separate us from one another.

Praying together fills the space within and without.  This service places a heavy emphasis on community; who we are in the here and in the now.  Most of us did not grow up here.  Like most modern communities, we are comprised of Reform, Secular, Conservative, and Traditional. This service requires the individual to appreciate and to elevate the difference of our backgrounds, our traditions, and to see them as an expression of our love for one another.

I never went to summer camp as my allergies and asthma were too severe and my pediatrician forbade my parents to send me.  Moreover, I grew up in a traditional/conservative synagogue. Guitar, musical instruments, vocal harmonies were not permitted and if they had been, it would have been far too weird.  Even at HUC, I rarely used musical instruments because I was a student rabbi at a local conservative synagogue where simply becoming egalitarian was a major accomplishment.

It was only when I came here that I began to experience the great diversity of traditions that all of you here this evening represent.

What do I Pray for This Evening?

I pray that this service will reach and touch your heart.  I speak for everyone here on the Bimah that our deepest hope is for you to participate, to pray as an expression of your love for all aspects of being Jewish.  For some of you, this may simply be to remain quiet and to use the prayers of tonight as an opportunity for deep spiritual reflection.  For others, it may be to sing from the depths of the heart so as to liberate from the ordinary and to feel the embrace of these Days of Awe – these ימים הנוראים.

Psalm 19 captures the existential difficulty and joys of life’s journey.  It calls us to enter the path towards God and one another. It acknowledges the beauty of the universe that is here, in its totality.  The author so eloquently acknowledges the importance place that we occupy in creation.  What we do here matters to God, for it is the ultimate response to appreciate the likeness and image in which we were originally created so long ago.

We realize the truth that there is uncertainty in our heart whether or not God will find our prayers and yearnings acceptable. Teshuvah – heart-felt prayer -is the deepest of these, for it seeks to extend only to fill the space that separates us from one another.

June 21, 2012

One of the first times I have ever entitled a journal entry by name.  I am now flying high above Poland towards Munich where in about an hour or so we will be landing and have quite the lay-over (over 7 hours).  The six students returning (a few are staying in Europe – one even going to Nairobi to do volunteer work) are for the most part sleeping and is well earned on many levels.

We took along a professional photographer – a Fulbright fellow.  She has taken over 5000 photographs (not a misprint) and we are hoping to create a book of this particular experience.  Perhaps a student will come forward and assist – unlike the filmed documentaries in the past and perhaps our work may be ready by next year’s Yom Hashoah if not sooner.  We hope to land in Boston at 6:30 today (Thursday) though the clock will turn back the six hours we gained in Europe.

So onto Karolina and her story – she being a young teenager along with about 14 others from the local school who met with us the night before and then joined us for the closing ceremony along with two of their teachers(one of them an English teacher, another a history teacher, and the headmaster). The Mayor could not join us but sent two representatives.  He had a doctor’s appointment as he had broken his leg in a skiing accident.  Before drawing any negative conclusion, he had to walk with one crutch and visited the cemetery on more than one occasion and was so very gracious; even attending our school session.  I honestly believe he is very interested in transmitting all of Korcyna’s  history, including the Jewish community that once existed there and this I must say is an unusual experience for me to see such sensitivity and concern over a world that no longer exists.

So all these young Polish students – of course none of them Jewish – most likely Roman Catholic – are present and we are standing in the middle of the cemetery in a fairly large yet intimate circle.  Four large candles are lit – two by the Polish students and two by our students.  There are various readings.  Karolina is standing opposite me in this circle as the service progresses.  We have two translators.  She is a petite young person.  She is dressed very nicely; very respectfully.  It seems as though, and this is just an observation, that there is a tendency for girls and women to dress more appropriately for these kinds of formal gatherings than boys.  Many of the boys – in fact from memory everyone who had attended – wore those long/basketball length shorts, tennis shoes, and a tee-shirt with some company logo or saying,  and perhaps a baseball type cap.

The girls, from my memory and the woman were dressed in either dresses or skirts and a nice blouse with matching shoes.  I can’t say that all of them were, but it seems as though the majority, if not all were.  I don’t know why this is the case.

I have digressed and I’d be interested in any comments from the readers about whether this is a true phenomenon (in general) or an isolated case.  Hardly matters given what it is to follow.

Karolina had what appeared to be an extensive digital camera and she was photographing the cemetery before the service began.  We had our own photographer Laura present and I had told her for purposes of documenting that she could photograph the service.  Karolina (pronounced Kar-o-LEE-nah) had her camera draped around her neck with those holders that you typically see.  When I had asked people to join in the 23^rd Psalm, our translator only knew what I was referring to after I had finished and said that many of the students had learned it, memorized it, in Polish.  Of course there is an extraordinary element of shyness, but Karolina recited it by heart in Polish and her recitation was not simply rote.  It seemed to me to be quite moving – recited as prayer – in a kind of sensitive tone that matched the significance of the moment.  At some point thereafter, I think I was speaking about the importance of names, I noticed that she had “quietly” lifted her camera and took a picture – not of me – but of my Rabbi’s manual that I was holding in front of my stomach.  Our service continued with a few more reflections – mostly by the teachers, the students standing respectfully and attentive – as our students would as well (this is written honestly)- but keep in mind these young people have little connection to the Jews of Korcyna who perished other than what their teachers have taught them and what they have read.  They recited the Kaddish (I stated each word and everyone repeated) and our service concluded.

I went over to Karolina with her teacher/translator alongside an asked her about the picture-taking of my book and I think at first I had frightened her slightly – for I think she feared she had done something inappropriate – and I reassured her that she had not of course.  She very shyly responded that the color of the book, that it had prayers in it that I had read from, made it seemed right to photograph it for her memory.  I took my Rabbi’s manual and gave it to her.  I told her that it was hers so long as she needed it, but after she had finished with it, whether it be tomorrow or 10 years, she was to give it to the school for its archives and library as a keepsake.  I believe that she was quite moved to receive it and I know it is in good hands.

Most of the Jewish books had been burned by the Germans when they entered Korcyna.  In one section of the Yizkor book, one of the very few survivors returned to Korcyna long after the war.  There were no books any longer – a place once filled with sacred texts of Talmud, Shulchan Arukh, Sifre (books of) Torahs – that had long ago disappeared from Korcyna.  One account is of a man who was all alone in his home and he had been given two hours to clear out of his house and to relocate to another town (I believe he was shot along the way as I had also presented my copy of the Yizkor Book of Korcyna to the town).  When told, the young Hasid went straight to a special cupboard, took out his own Torah scroll and left only with it.  According to the Yizkor narrative, even the Germans, in a very strange sort of way, was impressed with this man’s devotion.

The account of the survivor concludes with his finding a torn off page of Talmud by sheer accident which I believe he takes back to Israel.

It was a fragment of a gesture , yet one that had significance in my own heart, to give a Jewish book, though I am sure her parents will question what in the world their daughter will do with a Rabbi’s manual, but I felt that Korcyna needed at that moment at least one Jewish text, something in Hebrew to remind them of an age once gone by and only to be remembered by those who thought it important; such people as the Mayor, the Headmaster, the history and English teachers, and most of all, I have hope and I have faith, in Karolina.

Our work is very near completion; there being over 500 headstones to catalogue, to transcribe, to photograph, and so forth.  Not everyone is readable, but the vast majority can be read, such that there seems to be so much work lies ahead upon our return.  Yesterday was very moving.

The work began in an almost monotonous way; the way one gets up and says simply “another day of work.”  Our office, our place of ‘business’ is the cemetery and I cannot say that it is inspiring to read ‘matzevah’  (headstone after headstone) that talk about how righteous this person was, how they extended their hand to the poor and to those in need.  Yet, each life is important and when one compares our headstones in Jewish cemeteries to these, the latter say so much more about what the community values; perhaps a high holy day sermon in that regard.  Every once in a while you come across a woman who died in childbirth and either one of her children or  more likely the husband is describing in first person on the headstone how tears are falling from his eyes.  Then one “wakes” up and realizes that people very much the same as you and I in the heart of hearts live each day with the good and the tragic.

The weather was quite warm and humid.  We were guarded a little by the shade due to the large trees.  Two other students joined in the transcriptions so that our progress was quite good.  But they are not the only story that I write this morning.  I wonder what motivates our young people on this journey who are doing the very heavy difficult work of washing the headstones so that they can be read or clearing out the overgrowth and brush – you can’t really imagine it unless you’ve been on previous journeys.  There they are scrubbing away, moving buckets of water to each headstone, some tilted way over, being careful with the lettering and treating each one carefully, so that by the end of the day, they are tired, exhausted, and have no idea what these headstones say or represent.  I think it takes a real act of faith to do this work; particularly if one is not Jewish.  It’s easy for me in that regard, though after 11 such restorations, it too takes a toll – taking some comfort in the midrash story of the old man who plants the fig tree next to the young boy, who seems tired and unmoved by the new, yet continuing to plant as if that is the work that one must do for whatever the reason, even if it is unclear its ultimate value other than some future randomness that may or may not occur.

We have only 15 headstones to transcribe this morning and then the service at 11:00 a.m. We will depart thereafter for Krakow and catch an early morning flight on Thursday morning.

After we finished for the day, a most extraordinary thing happened.  We were told to come to the public grammar and high school for a presentation.  When we arrived, we went upstairs to its library, joined by the Mayor and his Vice-Mayor.  The Headmaster of the school, the history and English teacher (and her husband), and students from the local school were there to greet us and then more.  After introductions, they gave us a wonderful lecture that resulted from their own research of a project that they had begun in 2006 that included working on the very abandoned and neglected Jewish Cemetery that we had worked on.  They showed us picture of their work and it was remarkable.  But that was not all – no far from it – they had done research on the Jewish history of Korcyna and of Poland in general and gave us a wonderful presentation about their knowledge of the Jewish community of Korcyna; their students who were present – I would say 20 sat their politely (they came voluntarily?) and listened.

They had a registry that they showed us that showed all the Jewish students and their parents and how they had enrolled in the public school there (this was told to us in the Yizkor book that is online).  Before the 20^th century, Jews of Korcyna only sent their children to religious schools; never to the general Polish one because such studies were not considered truly ‘useful’ for it did not teach them the Mitzvot and Torah.  Many were Chasidim.  But in the 20^th century, things changed even in Poland where more trades were being encouraged by non-Jews to participate and Jews in Korcyna began to send their children to the public school as well because they saw the world becoming both more open (how tragic looking in the rear view mirror of history) and more demanding; such that they realized that for their children to function in the “real” world, they had to send their children to receive a more general education.  And so we saw name and after name in this original registry of Jewish children and the names of their parents and the dates of attendance – and the names corresponded to those in the Yizkor book that is online.  I even saw the name “Feigenbaum” and I am told that on my father’s side (I think) we are related to all the Feigenbaums, but to borrow an old Yiddish expression, this could be a buba maisa (loosely translated – grandma’s tale- could be true, maybe, but one is too respectful to discount it – at least altogether).

I will say that never before in the 10 previous restorations had we ever been treated to such a lecture and it showed a remarkable insight into the good-heart of these people that begins with the Mayor and their desire to “teach their children” the history of their town and the people who lived there.  All of this, after 50 years living under the Soviet thumb where such teachings would have been forbidden.   If only the world was like this community on this evening.

As is the custom at these sorts of things, I was asked to speak near the end but before the Mayor- thank goodness and of course I was completely unprepared.  I had noticed first a small book on Janush Korshak (forgive the spelling).  Their students knew who he was but I’m not sure ours did.  I wanted to explain for it is a story worth telling.  Jan Korshak was very famous in Poland before the War.  He was the leading child psychologist in Poland when the Nazi invasion occurred.  Tragically, he too was in the Warsaw ghetto.  He took it upon himself to be in charge of the orphanage; brought about because of the death of parents, either at the hands of the Germans, or at the death caused by starvation. You can only imagine how difficult this work must have been – well probably one can’t imagine for it is beyond comprehension.

Jan Korshak had the opportunity, because of his immense stature in Poland, to leave the orphanage before the children were to be sent to Auschwitz (I am doing this from memory but no one corrected me but if I am wrong on this please tell me), but he refused.  Instead, he went with them so that they would be comforted and cared for throughout the journey to Auschwitz and he too died with them in one of the gas chambers at Birkenau, the very site that we had just visited.

I told this narrative at the time not realizing that the Polish students had studied him (we had a translator).  I talked about the importance of history and education in light of today’s world; that all the education in the world, all the new advances in technology, engineering, computer science, and medicine, mean nothing if we do not remember where we came from, where we learn from our history and study ethics, philosophy, and morality and then, despite the challenges, work to incorporate them into our present day.

By looking at the Jewish history of Korcyna and what happened to a people that no one in that room remembered you were helping to prevent such calamities – such destruction.  I must believe that and of course I sound very rabbinic as if I am on some type of soapbox and I do apologize.  We tend to devalue these areas of study – history, philosophy, classics, religions – in favor of the more pragmatic “stuff” and it is understandable because this is where the “kemach” (real material) of life is; or so we think.  But what must underlie it, at least I think so, is a kind of dedication to where we have come from, what we want our humanity to consist of, this nurturing of the human heart and that our work, our sensitivity to life, springs from that condition, and that our learning is motivated from a true desire to better the world.

As corrupt as this thinking may seem to many, many Germans believed that what happened to the Jews was going to create a new world order; a better world.  8 out of the 15 people present at the Wannsee Conference had doctorates.  Goebbels, may his name be obliterated from the earth, even recognized just how monstrous the acts taken against the Jewish people were, yet he said it was necessary and not  refrain from lack of courage.

Yet, no one took that step back and said what we are doing is wrong.  When the allies learned about the death camps, they did not stop and bomb the railroad tracks leading to Auschwitz.  If they had done that in the spring of 1944, perhaps, just perhaps, a majority of the 500,000 Jews from Hungary might have survived.  No one of course knows, but now we will never know.  I believe deeply that only in the study of the past can we know how to act righteously in the future.  You know it’s ironic that I use the word righteous in this context because so many of the headstones, I would say 95% at least, have that word mentioned either tzadik or tzedakah mentioned in it.  Perhaps there is still much to learn from these headstones and the tediousness of this work.

June 16, 2012

I begin with an attempt to overcoming guilt.  I have davened this morning and I know that unless I write during the Shabbat, I will fall behind too much and get too discouraged and feel as though I am not with the people I care most about.  I too at times feel disconnected from the reality of my own life and yet these experiences over the years have made me more aware of just how unique year end and year out have become in my own understanding of Judaism, my Judaism, and the richness of a past that is no longer.

Let me first begin by saying that the people of Korcyna have been so gracious, warm and open. The Mayor of the town was there to greet us as we came off the bus, though we were close to 2 hours late (I had no idea he was going to be there).  We talked for another hour and a half and it was clear that not only did he welcome us and saw this as benefitting his community, but that most important was it for the children of Korcyna and the adults too to remember the rich history of Korcyna, of which a significant part of it was the Jewish community.  It was for this reason that he did everything in his power to secure permission for us by the regional and national governmental authorities for us to come and he was successful.

Things have changed so much over the years; no one use to care at all about these God forsaken cemeteries (literally) or at least that was my impression when we first began so it was easy to go in and do this work.  Now, it seems that there is great concern and in some ways, it is a good thing that there is governmental and rabbinical oversight.  Rabbi Schudrich, the Chief Rabbi of Poland (ironic isn’t it when you consider the total number of Jews who were there before World War II (over 3,000,000) and the total number today.  According to one source, there are no more than 15,000 and that seems very high, but so be it.  But in any event, we have secured permission.

The Town of Korcyna is more akin to a suburb of the town of Krasno, where we are staying.  The cemetery has – according to our Project Manager Steve Glazer – 400 stones and at least 200 that are legible.  But I can tell you that the town furnished us with two very hard working men who helped us clear the overgrowing brush – standard for this work – that uncovered over half of the headstones that were not visible upon entry.  There is a cement wall built in the 1930s by a Wolf Koref, z”l (May his memory be for a blessing), that stands to this day.  We will remove the unspeakable, but fading graffiti that is found in one section (hardly visible) but there.  But please do not form an unfavorable impression.

Before we began our work, the Mayor insisted on meeting everyone and had school faculty as well as students there to greet us and to welcome us.  We were moved by their warmth and the work.  Our contact person in Poland who had arranged everything seemed a little annoyed (I should not be writing this) but only because it was delaying our work.  Arik is a very kind soul who works for the regional government in Sanok where we restored its cemetery in 2010.

Some of you may be pleased to know that because of the memorial we built there, many people, according to Arik, now come, including local villagers, and light candles and place flowers on the “New Cemetery” that was erected where the building that was used to prepare the deceased for burial once stood.   It is heartwarming – I suppose one could succumb to bitterness about the absence of Jews and what occurred there and throughout Poland – many rightfully – some with far more right than I who now engage in this project – to draw that line in the sand.  And one could be more cynical, skeptical at best to say, “It’s easy to be loving and embracing of a people who are no more.”

But I must say it doesn’t have that feel here.  There was an elderly man, and we’ve had that experience in other places, which lives next door to the Jewish cemetery in a beautiful brick home.  He remembers firsthand the death of so many Jews and many of the Jewish townspeople, their names – how so many of them were killed. Who hid the Jews – and those who were informers and collaborators.  His own father would give food wherever he could and even told Jews with whom to hide.  This elderly man’s account was consistent with what we had read in the Yizkor Book.  And you know the tone of voice seemed as if he was obsessed, perhaps even a little exaggerated. Yet, the accuracy could not be discounted.  Those who bore witnessed who were not Jewish – seem to have this urge as well to recount what they saw – particularly those who witnessed mass executions and simply outright murder – as if they have waited their entire life for this moment- I know this sounds exaggerated.  If you could just have heard the ongoing stress in his voice and our hopeless attempts to conclude the conversation, yet unable to because of its nonstop character, perhaps you would have sensed something different, though at all times we need the help of a translator.

This leads me to our student leader who was born in Poland and then at a very young age immigrated with his parents to the United States.  He speaks Polish and served as the translator.  Maybe I should not be writing this, for he would be easily identifiable.  He served as the translator for this elderly man.  He stood patiently, while some of our guides were concerned that perhaps we were falling behind in our work – understandably so because of the elderly nature of this man and his tendency to speak in such an animated way that perhaps it was more cathartic to him which tended to reduce one’s belief in the accuracy, and yet everything he said, including the group and individual killings and the march of the Jews from Korcyna to Krasno, where they waited in the town square – the very town square where we ate -  and then marched to the train station and placed in cattle cars to be sent to Belzec was accurate including the month, the date, I believe, and of course the year.

Yet, there our student leader stood quietly and patiently listening, translating and so forth.  He had graduated from Dartmouth just six days earlier and could have done something completely different.  Yet, he felt it important.  This same person returned to the cemetery and continued his work which consisted of the heavy labor of removing the tremendous quantity of overbrush, thorns, and fallen branches – more than one can adequately described, here for the entire day – as did so many students whom I won’t mention as space does not permit.  All of them are the best of Dartmouth, and is in part one reason why I often say I have the best rabbinate in the country because I have such wonderful students with whom I work and with a congregation and community that is so understanding.

I miss you all,

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi

Krasno, Poland

One cannot begin to adequately describe the range of our journey these last twenty-four hours; from Krakow to Auschwitz and now to Belzec.  I suspect that many have never heard of such a place and may there never be one like it ever on the face of the earth.  Auschwitz was once described as a different planet and even a different universe.  Belzec is no different and may God bless those who worked to make it a memorial unlike any other, for without their work, Belzec once bull-dozed and completely obliterated, it would never have become even a memory where nearly 500,000 Jews were murdered in a span of six months.

Our journey to Belzec was seven and one half hours and our time there was over two hours.  From Belzec back to Krasno where we would be staying was another 3 hours, so all total a completely exhausting and moving day.

How does one described Belzec, if at all?  It was once nothing but an empty field entirely destroyed (unlike Auschwitz).  Due to the work of many, including an extraordinary fundraising campaign in the United States, it now is a fitting memorial and museum and one that is worthy of description.  One of the individuals involved in creating this memorial was I believe the grandfather of one of our former participants, Max Gelb ’11.

Belzec is a very large area and replicates in the memorial design the death march of those who went to its gas chambers and then crematoria.  At Belzec, the passengers, all riding in cattle cars, many of whom perished because there was no water for the journey, disembarked and went straight to their deaths – that is to the gas chamber and then their bodies cremated. The walk is recreated in the design so that one walks in the center of this large, open field, that is filled with blackened rock of some type (resembling volcanic rock) from which can be seen small vegetation now growing.

There is a very long walk-way that begins near the entrance which is centered in terms of the area, and there begins this long walk way. The walls ascend on each side higher and higher until one arrives at the gas chamber site and crematoria area.  At the end of the walkway, the walls now very high on each side, where directly in front there is an extraordinary high wall in which there is an inscription from Job about the blood filling and crying out of the earth.  There is an opposing wall that has names on it – I can only suppose – are the names of some who perished.  Facing the large wall, on one’s left and on one’s right are two very large sets of stairs that lead up to the top of the hill.  On each side is a beautiful walk way that bends to the border and then down and leads directly back to where the journey began.  On each side at appropriate intervals are the names of the towns where Jews lived and then sent here to die.

I can’t say this enough – perhaps to make sure for myself that such a place once existed, this was only a death camp; a killing field as it were was its only purpose.  We found the towns of both Krasno (where we are staying) and Korcyna (a ‘suburb’ of Krasno) and Sanok (the town where we did the restoration of 2010) memorialized along the way.  The total number of Jews from Krasno and Sanok – the virtual end of the Jewish life in these two towns- is estimated at 2400; we have many names of the families from the Yizkor book compiled by Jewishgen.  At each site, we recited the El Maleh Rachamim and then the Kaddish.  Jewish and non-Jewish students alike joined in the prayers that would have been recited had they died a normal death; but such was not to be.  One wonders why and one wonders if their souls have some human ability to see life here on earth – what their thoughts would be were they to know that a group of students from Dartmouth were here remembering them after so many years.

I sometimes wonder whether these journeys, now in the 11^th year, are more for us than for those who perished.  It seems often to kind of blur together in an unreal, almost surreal sense.  There is a nothingness and emptiness and yet purposefulness that cannot be fully described in these journals; my writing being so limited.

I cannot describe Belzec.  When we arrived in the town, and as we approached the concentration camp, one could clearly see the nearby train station and train tracks where so many saw their end.  The sign on the railroad yard clearly says “Belzec” as if nothing happened out of the ordinary.  Perhaps they should consider changing the town’s name just as Oswiecim should also seek to distant itself.  Proverbs says that a good name is worth more than all the riches.  I wonder sometimes if this applies to the names of the towns.  Can these names ever be rehabilitated?  Even if everyone once associated with these places have passed on or are so elderly as to no longer have an impact, should their names be changed so that only the death is associated with the camps but not the townspeople, many of whom, perhaps the vast majority, were not even alive when all this occurred?  Moreover, one could simply blame the Germans and not the villagers. Why should there be this guilt of association simply because they lived in a town where so many suffered, so many were murdered.

Enough.  You will note that I have not mentioned Auschwitz.  Belzec is where 500,000 Jews were murdered one by one in its gas chamber over a 7 month period from March through I believe the end of November 1942, just a few months after the Wannsee conference, which this year for some reason, is so important in  my mind – unlike in previous years.  I don’t know why this is so.  500,000 is the total number of Hungarian Jews that were murdered in a four month span at Auschwitz once the second largest gas chamber and crematoria was opened to simply ‘accommodate’ them.  This was done in 1944.  Such a loss is beyond words.  I will return to write more in this journal but it is now 5:57 and I must meet the bus downstairs and go to the Rymanow synagogue, a Hasidic shul now restored by a group in New York.  There we will daven Kabbalat Shabbat and I return and complete this journal entry.  There remains so much to tell including a wonderful Mayor and the towns people of Korcyna who have been extraordinary on our very first day at work.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi