Dear Heather,
I had the privilege of meeting you when you were only minutes old. Your
grandmother Elaine and your Grandmother Donna and Your Grandfather Steven and
I stood outside the birthing suite experiencing every moment of your mother’s
travail and waiting to hear your cry. You made such a sweet sound. You gave
voice to your entry into the world. Our first glimpse of you was through a
slightly open door, as your father marveled at his daughter. Your birth was a nes,
a miracle. At the realization that you were whole and healthy, our shehecheyanu
was a profound moment of joy and thanksgiving, as well as, relief. The tension
of birth is the anticipation of happiness and the anxiety of the unexpected.
You are truly blessed because you have been born into a loving family at a
time of great prosperity and in a world, which promises unlimited
possibilities. I am optimistic about your future. Family is at the center of
all our Jewish values. It is the place where we learn what it means to be
a person and what it means to be a Jew. As the stories about the birth of
Isaac and Ishmael, as well as, the binding of Isaac, which are the Torah
portions for Rosh Hashanah, illustrate family, presents its difficulties, as
well as, it’s blessings. The primacy of family is basic to my understanding
of what Judaism teaches. The complexity of families, requires extreme efforts
to draw people together, to forgive each other and to create a supportive,
nurturing and loving environment. The Genesis narratives speak about
inevitable conflicts but also describe power instances of support,
reconciliation and blessing. Making these stories your own will help to make
the wisdom of Torah integral to your life. I am confident that your family
will do everything possible to provide you with blessings and opportunities to
bless each other.
This leads me to a story about an unusual woman. Your grandmother Elaine
has a friend. Her name is Susie Canziani. They were roommates at the National
College of Education. Suzie is a devout Catholic with a profound sense of God’s
presence. Her life has not been easy but her attitude is truly inspiring. She
lives in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, yes there is an Oshkosh, Great! The annual
Oshkosh air show is very famous and it draws people from around the world.
Suzie and her husband Mario own some small apartments. The day before the
air show, as she was preparing empty apartments to be shown to potential
renters, she found in the building what she thought was a prospective tenant.
He was a foreigner and extremely tired from a long journey. Communication was
quite limited because of his strong accent. After trying to convince him of
the virtues of the vacant apartment, she learned that all he really wanted was
to rent a room for the air show. There were no rooms to be found from
Milwaukee to Appleton. He was so tired that she let him take a nap in the hall
while she completed her work. After further conversation, she learned that he
was an Israeli pilot; he had flown to Chicago and driven directly to Oshkosh
stopping along the way several times to sleep.
But, all Suzie could see was a stranger with no place to stay. She knew she
could not turn him away, so she decided to take him home. Now she had a
problem, what would she tell her husband? In her car, with an Israeli pilot
following in his rental car, a scene from the New Testament came to her. It
was the story of Joseph and Mary having their child in a manger because there
was no room at the inn. Now, she knew her husband could not refuse the
stranger. (This story reminds me of the many rabbinic stories about Elijah or
the Messiah who are disguised as strangers and only one act of kindness will
be enough to bring the new age). But let’s get back Mario was not happy but
he had no choice. Susie welcomed this stranger into their home. In the past,
Susie took in members of her family who were in trouble and others even when
she was not sure where she would get food for the next meal.
It was an incredibly enriching weekend for Susie and her family. The pilot
invited her to visit his home in Jerusalem. But, the story has another twist.
Mario was expecting two friends to arrive by helicopter for the air show. The
problem was there was not enough room in the family car to transport everyone
to the show. Now Susie knew why the stranger had come. Susie believed that God
sent the stranger as a solution to her problem because he had a car. She
exemplifies for me a religious person. She performed the mitzvah of hachnasat
orchim, welcoming the stranger. Although that is not the way she would
have phrased it. Her home is like Abraham and Sarah’s tent, which is open on
all sides. In this day and age it is a hard model to follow. One might
describe her trust in God and her generosity as naïve. For me, Suzie is the
counter testimony to a world of distrust and lack of faith. Suzie’s goodness
is born of her faith. People like Susie encourage and inspire me. Heather, I
hope your Judaism will inspire you to look for the goodness in people and to
see in the exigencies of life more than serendipity but the possibilities of
the Divine Presence. Religious faith is not about belief but about action. Who
knows? Good! The stranger you welcome may really be Elijah or the Messiah, and
your one act of kindness will be enough to redeem the world.
Suzie’s faith has a confidence that mine does not. I am often asked how
can I believe in God after the Holocaust? How can I believe in God when we
need only turn on the evening news to experience human cruelty? How I can
believe in God when I know first hand so many instances of life’s
injustices? Rabbi Irving (Yitz) Greenberg taught me something that I have
found very helpful. It is called moment faith. He wrote: "After
Auschwitz, faith means that there are times when faith is overcome. Since
faith is a response to the Presence in life and history, this response ebbs
and flows. The difference between the skeptic and the believer is,
"the frequency of faith, not certitude of position." What I
understand by this statement is that faith does not overcome doubt. It does
not wipe away the questions. Faith does not solve the mystery or the riddle of
God’s seeming presence or absence. Faith, however, is an attitude that
allows me to assert meaning and value to life. It allows me to believe that at
the core of existence there is a caring presence. Heather, My father Lothar,
your great grandfather believed in what he called an ethical universe. He
believed that being a Mensch, a truly good human being is not a matter of mere
convention but a requirement built into the structure of the universe. When
goodness is allowed to flower in society and blossom in us, it is utterly
transformative. In moments of pain, suffering, and injustice it will
strengthen us and give us the courage to go on.
My relationship with God is not an easy one. I am often angry at and
disappointed in God. But I am angrier and more disappointed in myself and
other human beings than I am in God. I try to follow the dictum. "Pray as
if everything depended upon God and act as if every thing depends on
you." It is easy to blame God for our failures. But what really troubles
me is Cain’s response to God’s question, "Where is your brother
Abel?" Cain replies, "Am I my brother’s keeper?" Too often
this is also our response to human suffering.
The Torah recounts the incredible story of Jacob wrestling with a being who
is both human and divine. As a result of this struggle Jacob’s name is
changed to Israel, the God wrestler. For me faith is a wrestling match. It is
the intimate struggle with a profoundly loving presence and dark and cruel
absence. It is a wounding and bruising love-making which makes my life
profoundly meaningful, yet joyous and painful at the same time. Faith is not a
matter of doctrine but a way of living. No theology satisfies my intellectual
and spiritual yearnings. I still seek the answers to life’s questions in the
wisdom of our sacred texts and sages of our own day. They often provide a way
to articulate my thoughts and concerns but their wisdom is only a tentative
solution to the mysteries of the universe. It is mystery and opportunity for
service that inspires me. It is mitzvah, the commandment that ultimately turns
life into a sacred pilgrimage.
The historian Robert Chazan has written, "The challenge of difference
more than anything else has stimulated creativity over the ages." A
distinctive Jewish way of life is essential for the human future. This may be
an arrogant statement which is not in keeping with homogenization of our age.
Globalization, with all of its benefits, still threatens the uniqueness of
individual cultures. The immense freedom of the United States has restored the
melting pot as a metaphor for American culture. Our universalism (our concern
for all of humankind), must be rooted in the particularism of Judaism. I know
that this is a bold assertion. Let me give just one brief example. As Jews we
count time in relationship to Shabbat. Sunday is Yom rishon le Shabbat,
the first day toward Shabbat Monday is Yom Sheni ,the second day toward
Shabbat and so on. Shabbat is about an ideal world where creation is
appreciated and conserved, where humankind’s needs are met and we experience
Shalom (wholeness). Shabbat properly observed with worship, study, rest,
family, friends and delight is a foretaste of our ultimate hopes and dreams.
Judaism frames the day, in the story of creation and the exodus from Egypt. We
are part of human history as the descendents of Adam and Eve and we are
characters in Jewish history as we emerge from Pharaoh’s Egypt. As a liberal
Jew my definitions of the mitzvot of Shabbat differ in some ways from Orthodox
and Conservative Jews. There is room to adopt the concepts of the Tanach and
rabbinic Judaism and adapt them not to fashion but to new understanding of the
way to sanctify life. Through our difference we can challenge the world to
transform Shabbat from a weekly island of kedusha, (holiness) to a
daily practice of righteousness. My hope Heather is that you will be more
successful in your Shabbat observance than I. Remember! Creativity is born of
difference. The tension between being like everybody else and being different
at the same time can be uncomfortable, but it is the essence of being Jewish
and necessary if we are to carry on the tasks of being an Am brit ,a
covenant people and an or legoyim, a light to the nations.
The poem that I quoted in the introduction to the letter ends with the
following line:
Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
And life is a journey
a sacred pilgrimage
to life ever lasting.
At the heart of the universe is Mystery with a capital M. I believe that
nothing is lost. I cannot fully explain this faith. It defies science and
logic. In spite of this I feel the presence of the past working in my life. I
want to share a story with you from a beautiful book that I read this summer
entitled My Grandfather’s Blessings by Rachel Remen. I had the
opportunity to hear her speak and tell this story at a conference on Judaism
and Healing at the Hebrew Union College in Los Angeles. She is an incredible
physician and listening to her is a joy and inspiration. By the way, Rabbi
London is trying to arrange to bring her to Beth Emet.
The story is about Dr. Remen’s patient, Ahiro, who is in the final stages
of prostate cancer. Her task is to help him deal with the fact that he is
dying. As part of their conversation, they entered into a dialogue about life
after death. He believed firmly that death is the end. When he asked Rachel if
she believed in life after death, she answered, "I do not know." Her
answer fascinated and irked him. During their next-to last meeting, he again
raised this issue.
Hearing my "I don’t know," he began to laugh.
"Rachel", he said, "I am an educated man. I must
believe death is the end. But just in case it isn’t, I will come
back as a great white crane and give you some sort of sign that I lost
the argument." Their conversation continued with Rachel teasing
him that the white crane was too obvious and a little like the duck on
the old Groucho Marx show. Then Rachel told him "Perhaps you’ll
find another way," The story continues: He looked at me for a
considerable moment. "I will do something that you will
recognize," he said suddenly serious.
Only a few months later, this remarkable man died. Shortly
afterward I was in the TransAmerica building in the downtown business
district of San Francisco, waiting for an elevator to take me to an
appointment. The building is tall and so the elevators are quite slow.
This gives everyone a few minutes to themselves. In this brief time, I
found myself thinking of Ahiro and how much I missed being able to
talk to him. I remember some of the many extraordinary things I had
discovered about him and what a delightful man he had been.
At last one of the elevators arrived. It was empty. And so with my
heart and mind filled with memories of this relationship, I stepped
in. The doors closed, and the elevator started upwards so abruptly
that I was thrown slightly off balance I glanced down hurriedly to
regain my footing and there lying on the floor of the elevator was a
single, large, perfect, white feather.
Rachel concludes: In my mind I continue my discussion with Ahiro.
As always, he has presented the issue in a way I did not expect, and
he has certainly raised the level of the dialogue. I still do not know
if there is life after death, but perhaps that is not really the
point.
I am deeply moved and touched by the story. As with Dr. Remen, the story
does not definitively answer for me the question, "Is there life after
death," but it keeps the dialogue going. Heather, keeping the dialogue
open is the key. It is through old and new stories that I discover important
truths. Simply retelling them without committing myself to a single
explanation opens me to all the possibilities of meaning and mystery. I have
learned that what seemed so clear yesterday, is not so clear today and what
seemed impossible yesterday now seems to be true today.
Heather, these words from Gates of Prayer express what I am trying to tell
you:
Days pass and years vanish, we walk sightless among miracles. God, fill our
eyes with the seeing and our minds with knowing. But there are moments when
your presence, like lightning, illumines the darkness in which we walk. Help
us to see wherever we gaze the bush burns unconsumed. And we clay touched by
God, will reach out in holiness and exclaim in the wonder, "How filled
with awe is this place and we did not know it."
It is so important to keep our eyes open to the spiritual possibilities of
life. Meaning and value can come when we least expect them. It may be a chance
encounter with another person. It may be a question on an exam. It may take
place when you are alone with nature or when you are in the midst of a crowd.
Such moments leave us forever changed and forever enriched.
What is so hard, my precious little one, is to make the time to really
listen. We often are so distracted with the business of our lives that we have
forgotten how to really be present for another person. It is a skill we must
all practice. It is in the moment of true listening that souls meet. When that
happens everything changes. The barriers of separation disappear and our
humanity shines forth. The other becomes ultimately precious. Then we value
and feel valued. Real listening means hearing beyond the words. We can listen
with our eyes or with our hands as well as with our ears. The distinction
among the senses breaks down. Then life is truly with people and it is a
blessing.
Your Hebrew name is Chana Meira, Gracious giver of light. Like your great
grandmother Sunny and your great grandfather Micky, may you be a source of
light and grace to those around. May we, your family, nurture these qualities
in you.
Finally I want to offer you a summary of Judaism. It is a well-known
quotation from Mishnah Avot. Al sheloshim devarim ha olam omeid al ha Torah ve-al
ha-avodah ve-al gemilut chasadim. The world stands upon three things, Torah
(Knowledge, Study, Principles, Ideas), Avodah ( Worship, practice, religious
experience), Gemilut Chasadim (loving deeds which repair the world). While each of these is important,
each one may not be equally important at any one time. In fact some of us are
better at one than the other. A life rich in learning, religious experience
and caring deeds is worthy of being called holy. Holiness does not imply
perfection. Holiness is an attitude and a striving. Strive my little one to
feel God’s presence, to learn much about our faith and our people and to
care deeply for others. I hope you do not mind Heather, I have shared this
letter with our vast extended family at Beth Emet.
Today is Rosh HaShana 5761. It is the day when we take an accounting of our
lives before God. Your birth has given me the opportunity to try to think
about what I believe and try to explain it to you. I hope that when you are
older we can read this letter together. By then I know I will have other
stories to tell you and we will learn together.
Here is my grandfather’s blessing to you. May God bless you with strength
and health. May God grant you wisdom and insight. May God open your heart and
hands to the goodness and beauty in this world. May God sustain your parents.
May the cup of life be overflowing with sweet blessings. I toast you with our
most precious blessing, Le Chaim, to life!
Love,
Grandpa
