A Wise Friend In A Troubling Time

When the world is confusing and not understandable, it helps to look to the words of those who are wiser than us. Today I was struck by a Facebook posting from my friend, lunch buddy, and fellow Bruce Springsteen fan Joel Stern. Joel, a retired attorney, frequently writes eloquently about his personal battle with cancer. Today he has done a marvelous job encapsulating his beliefs on the crisis in the Middle East and on campuses here at home. I echo most of his views, and with his permission, I am printing a lightly edited version of his Facebook remarks.

I am a proud centrist. Proud because centrists bring people together and not apart. Proud because centrists can understand either party’s position and even side with the other party when he/she thinks they are right. I also see the same issues arising globally and if you follow history, this period of time looks very similar to the 1930s and we all know what happened next.

Today, I do feel compelled to write about the college protests going on throughout the United States. Let me start with some high level views. First, I am a great believer in free speech. Second, I am very supportive of peaceful protests done pursuant to the law. Third, I have no issue with people speaking and protesting about views I unequivocally disagree with, Fourth, I want peace in the Middle East. I hate the killing of innocent children (and adults) and the inability for a “real” peace to occur.

What I can’t support is an antisemitic movement masked by a pro-Palestinian protest. What I can’t stand is professional protestors with no allegiance to a cause but only money spearheading these protests. What I have disdain for is many of the protestors on campus are not even students. What I abhor is many protestors not even understanding why they are protesting and who have no idea of the complicated history in the Middle East and no idea what “from the sea to the river means.” What I hate is the brain manipulation that is being done on young college students who have no clue why they are protesting. The “dummying up” of America is happening on college campuses – this is the opposite of what college needs to be about. What I will not accept is protestors hailing Hamas as saviors and the victims and not even understanding the difference between Palestinians and Hamas. What I hate is the ignoring of what happened October 6, 2023. At least be consistent in your views of innocent people dying. To ignore what happened in October is confirmation of your singular purpose. What I don’t like is protests impacting parents’ ability to get their kids from schools or a son trying to fly to another city to see his ailing father but because of protests by the airport is not able to make his plane. What I detest is our children (our future) not being able to get an education because of these protests. If the protestors believe their actions are leading to a change of mind and heart in Americans, they are sorely wrong. It is having the opposite effect. Shame!

I hope and pray for peace. I want Israelis and Palestinians to find a way to live in peace even if that means a separate country for Palestinians. I want colleges to have the balls to protect their universities and students so students can take courses to learn including “free thought.” There is no freaking way protestors should be able to take over buildings. This needs to stop. I want people to first seek to understand and then solve versus ready, fire aim mentality. I want the centrists to force their political parties to represent the majority will and not the crazies on both sides of the party. As said in “Network” – “I’m mad as hell and am not going to take it anymore!”

I couldn’t say it better, so I am glad Joel has said it for me. Readers, let me know your thoughts.

We Stand With Israel in a Quest for Peace

When my recent blog mentioned worshipping at a High Holiday service at a North Shore congregation at the onset of the Yom Kippur War, I could not foresee or imagine that three weeks later I would be standing in the parking lot of the same synagogue, rallying with my fellow Chicago Jews after the heinous terrorist attack in Israel.

But there we convened, Jews of every branch of our faith, standing together to demonstrate our support for Eretz Yisroel, the Land of Israel, our Jewish homeland. We are not always united. A week ago many of our viewpoints on the direction of the Israeli government clashed. While many have friends and family living there, for some the only connection might be the Birthright trip our children had been on. A few of us may have thought of Israel only as an afterthought in our busy lives.

But the deadly Hamas attack on civilians — men, women, and children — on October 7th, has changed all that. Together we waved Israeli flags as we listened to addresses from Governor JB Pritzker, Congressman Brad Schneider, Illinois Comptroller Susana Mendoza, and others. We sang two national anthems, The Star-Spangled Banner and The Hatikvah, with Israeli and American flags waving together.

What brings us all together is the unshakeable conviction that Israel has a right to exist and a right to exist in peace. It is peace we all seek, and though there must and will be retribution for the violence of the last several days, peace and coexistence is the ultimate goal.

We came to a rally in a temple parking lot to express our support, our unity, and our strength. We pledge those things to Israel and the world.

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Memories and Generations at the Start of a New Year

For most, Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, is a time to look ahead, to the upcoming good and sweet year, ushered in with prayer, apples, and honey. But as I davened in temple this year, I found my mind drifting, envisioning the many ages of my life and the assorted Chicago-area locales where I have listened to the blowing of the Shofer on this ancient holy day.

Rogers Park in the late 1960s. Standing with friends on Pratt Avenue after youth services at B’nai Zion Synagogue. In my mind, those services were interspersed with ones on the bleachers of Loyola Park, a small mimeographed cardboard rectangle being the ticket to admission. All leading up to the one astonishing moment when the youth leader carrying the Torah past the young congregants tripped (or was tripped,) almost dropping the sacred scroll to the ground. A stern warning to all followed; had the Torah dropped to the floor, we would all be fasting for 40 days!

in 1970, as a high school junior, I was called upon to prepare and lead a Rosh Hashana teen service. Along with my collaborator, we culled news stories and ancient fables to choose readings that would be relevant to our fellow teenagers. Fitting for those violent times, our readings related to the war in Vietnam and the tragic shootings at Kent State a few months earlier.

A few years later a college friend invited me to join her at High Holiday services at a lovely synagogue on the shore of Lake Michigan. The setting was inspiring. But this was the year 1973. Ten days after Rosh Hashana, Egypt and Syria attacked Israel to initiate the Yom Kippur War.

Twenty years later Barb and I were a married couple with young children. The family worshipped on Rosh Hashana in the old auditorium at Stevenson High School. In a bit of karma, the Rabbi was the same Rabbi who had officiated at my Bar Mitzvah decades earlier, when he was an itinerant Rabbi who had only recently moved to Chicago. In more karma, sitting in the auditorium foreshadowed my upcoming long association with Stevenson High School.

As the kids grew, so did the need for Hebrew School and Bar Mitzvah lessons. To minimize carpool time, we joined a congregation near our home. High Holiday services were scripted, lengthy, and maintained every ritual. They were everything but inspirational, and when the Bar and Bat Mitzvah’s were over, so was our synagogue membership.

A few years later, Stevenson High School beckoned once more, this time with services in the Performing Arts Center. The setting was livelier and so was the spiritual leader, a young cantor training to be a Rabbi. Accompanied by a professional choir he gave life and breath to the services. In his sermons he challenged the congregants with questions, his assistants roaming the auditorium with microphones seeking out answers. We enjoyed those Rosh Hashana services for many years until COVID silenced them.

Today, post-COVID we pray once again, this year at our son’s congregation along with his wife and our granddaughters. My favorite Hebrew saying has always been “L’dor vdor”–“From Generation to Generation.” The circle of life continues.

May all the days of your life be good ones. L’shana Tovah.

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From Göppingen to Auschwitz–We Must Always Learn From The Past

I don’t usually write travelogues, but those of you who have noted an absence of posts for the last two weeks may wonder where I have been. To unabashedly steal the title of a John Le Carre spy novel, Barb and I began our travels in a small town in Germany.

The town was Göppingen, a burg with a population of about 60,000, a 40-minute train ride outside of Stuttgart. The occasion was an exhibition of about sixty pieces of art created by my great-grandfather John Elsas. From about 1925 to 1935, Elsas created over 25,000 watercolor satirical paintings and collages, each approximately 8 inches x 10 inches in size. Each piece was adorned with a short statement or poem, many reflecting on the political situation in Germany, culminating in Adolf Hitler’s rise to power.

Barb and I attended the invitation-only opening of the exhibition where we were warmly greeted by Dr. Dominik Sieber, Director of the Städtische Museum im Storchenm. The introductory presentation was given by Dr. Dorothee Hoppe, the archivist who introduced me to my great-grandfather’s works and after years of investigation knows more about the German side of my family than I do!

From Göppingen we traveled to Berlin. Here we spent three days exploring Germany’s capital, including the political, historical, and Jewish aspects of the city where my father lived until immigrating to America in 1933. Throughout, remnants and memorials to the Cold War and the Holocaust were never far away. With our next stop, the full weight of the Holocaust bore down upon us.

We flew from Berlin to Krakow via Warsaw on Lot, the Polish national airline. While we enjoyed the sites and atmosphere of the lovely central Oldtown, our main reason for traveling to Krakow was an hour’s drive to the west; here we reached the gates of the Auschwitz concentration camp and its partner camp, Auschwitz II-Birkenau.

Visiting the camps there is no escape from the horrors of the Final Solution. We were surrounded by residual structures, photos of the dead, surviving confiscated shoes, and an emotionless recounting of the murder of over a million people by our tour guide. For Barb and I, it was a reminder of what we already know; we hope for the many other visitors it opened their eyes to what must never happen again.

We had to hustle to make connections back to Chicago when our direct flight from Krakow to O’Hare was canceled immediately before boarding, but we arrived home just one day late. As I write, I reflect on the places we visited, the international meals we dined on, and my great-grandfather’s art. But also on the wondrous people we met: the Moscow businessman who insured yachts and thought Putin was crazy, the Irish statistician who was in Poland to organize a juggler’s convention, our Uber drivers, our guides, and our hosts.

All in all, it was a trip well done.

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For We Jews–Fond Feelings for Holiday Food

Sept 28, 2022

Rosh Hashannah has just passed. For those of you who are unfamiliar with “Rosh,” it is the Jewish New Year. I can’t tell you why the Jewish New Year is celebrated sometimes in September and sometimes in October any more than I can tell you why Chinese New Year is in February. I can tell you this is now year 5783 in the Jewish calendar. Again, don’t ask me why. I would have to Google the explanation just like you would.

Many Jews spend part of Rosh Hashannah in a temple, a synagogue, or another edifice where people can gather, pay their respects to their God, commit to living a better life in the coming year, and gossip about what the lady in the third row is wearing. A rabbi will sermonize and mighty sounds will be blown from the shofar, a hollow ram’s horn. Some temples keep an EMT on hand in case either the rabbi or the shofar blower passes out from over-exhalation of hot air.

If you notice the rabbi checking their watch as the service drones on, you know their spouse has warned them–be sure to let the congregation out in time to prepare dinner.

While 50% of Jews pray on Rosh Hashannah, 99% feast. The evening meal is celebrated with family, extended family, and almost family. Without the dietary restrictions of Passover (that pesky no flour rule,) traditional Jewish culinary dishes can be prepared and offered without limit.

Wine, challah, apples, and honey usher in the meal. Chicken soup — homemade of course — is a required opener. At the house chef’s discretion and preferred preparation method, the soup’s matzah balls (the one holdover from Passover seder) may be small and dense cannonballs or light and fluffy pillows.

And then–we have the meat! Brisket. We have the chicken! Roasted. We have the potatoes! Mashed, boiled, baked. The empty spots on the table are soon covered with salads, veggies, and Jello. No cruise ship’s unlimited buffet can compete with the largesse on the Rosh Hashannah table.

Do we have desserts? Cakes filled with apple and cinnamon. Assorted cookies and pies, ala mode for the kids. Everything except for pumpkin spice!

And for the more observant among us, there is a repeat of the feast the next night at someone else’s mother-in-law’s house.

Those two nights have passed. We are in the 10-day period between Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur, the Day of Repentance. In shul on Yom Kippur we will admit our sins and pray for forgiveness. To emphasize the seriousness of our atonement we will fast until sundown.

And then we will again gather at some relative’s home and celebrate. How? With a break-fast meal, of course. After all, we’re Jewish!