A Rabbi's World

I am writing this the morning after the day before, not quite twenty-four hours since the horrific tornado in Moore, Oklahoma essentially destroyed the entire town, taking many innocent lives with it.

In all of the storied history of the Jewish people, there was no single event that had greater short and long-term consequences than the revelation of Torah at Sinai. 

The festival of Shavuot, which we celebrated this week, marked the anniversary of that extraordinary (in both the literal and figurative senses of the word) day.  It encouraged us to recall, or recreate, if you will, the power, majesty and mystery of that luminous moment when God and humanity communed as one.  The world would never be the same thereafter.

There is an older gentleman in my synagogue who, for as long as I’ve known him (which is quite a few years), has been reciting the Mourner’s Kaddish on a daily basis. 

Although I heard it forty-two years ago in a classroom at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, I can remember it even now with perfect clarity.

Having just come off the week of Yom Hashoah, when we consciously called to mind memories of the very worst behavior that humanity has ever countenanced, I– like most of us, I’m sure– thought it was safe to “shift emotional gears” and anticipate the joy of celebrating Israel’s independence.  But now, of course, I know I was wrong…

My sister in Israel is fond of saying that her least favorite Shabbat of the year (tongue firmly in cheek) is when we recite the blessing in anticipation of the new Hebrew month of Nisan (meaning, of course, imminent Passover and all that entails).  Conversely, her favorite Shabbat is when we recite the blessing in anticipation of the new Hebrew month of Iyar (meaning, of course, the end of the Passover season, and imminent celebration of Yom Ha’atzma’ut, Israel’s Independence Day).

It is an unusual day indeed when The New York Times, not always considered sensitive to the concerns of the Jewish community, publishes a front-page obituary for a rabbi. But the Times did just that a few short weeks ago, when it noted, with appropriate pathos and respect, the death of Rabbi Hershel Schacter, of blessed memory.

I’m not completely sure why I remember this particular episode of my childhood quite so clearly, but I do…

One day, when I was in third grade, I went to the supermarket with my mother. While there, we happened upon my English teacher from the Yeshiva where I studied.  I remember staring at her, completely uncomprehending of how she could possibly be in the supermarket.  After all, I never, ever saw her outside of our classroom, and insofar as my third grade brain was concerned, that was where she always was.  She was completely out of place in the supermarket, and again- I’m not sure I even realized that she got hungry, or ate, because I never saw her do that.  David Copperfield could not have accomplished a greater illusion for me.  I was thoroughly amazed.

It would be difficult to exaggerate the significance of President Obama’s official visit to Israel this week, both for the interests of the United States in the Middle East, and also, of course, for Israel.

Since Israelis went to the polls to elect a new government in late January of this year, the front pages of their newspapers have been filled with all the intrigues and arm-twisting we have come to associate with coalition negotiations in Israel.