Thanks to Ronnie Fein for sending along this poignant recollection (and also for making my mouth water with her feature on hummus in today's Stamford Advocate).
My family was not observant and when I was growing up I often felt at odds with some of my Jewish friends whose families went to synagogue and got dressed up for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. And yet the holidays were always meaningful because it was one of the times that my Great Uncle Max, whom we called "Feta" paid us an especially long visit. Feta was married to my grandma's sister.
He was a kind, soft-spoken, humble man and we all adored him, especially my mother. I guess in a way he took the place of my mother's father, who had died when she was eight. When Ted Kennedy died recently and people spoke about how he stood in as a father figure for so many, I thought of my great uncle, who did the same.
Feta always made us laugh and told my mother all the family gossip. He also always brought us treats from the Lower East Side. Pickles. Knishes. Rye bread. And, most wonderful to us kids, Root Beer lollypops with twisted, pretzel-like cardboard handles.
At High Holiday time he brought a special treat: large, fleshy, crimson red pomegranates. My brothers and I would peel away the thick skin, bite off chunks of the glossy seeds and swish them around in our mouths, downing the tangy juice and then seeing who could spit out the seeds the farthest.
Every autumn when September comes and I see pomegranates in the market I know that the High Holidays are about to begin. In our family we get dressed up and attend synagogue. It feels good to be part of a larger Jewish community. Is a time to celebrate life and for me, also a time to reflect and remember my great uncle.
Showing posts with label Elul Project. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elul Project. Show all posts
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Elul Project #3 - Memories of the March
Dr. Harry Romanowitz sent these Elul reflections along, as they relate to his life's work of keeping the flames of memory alive for the next generation. Stamford will be sending a delegation to the March of the Living next April and Mara and I will be going with them. Teens and adults interested in attending should contact patty@ujf.org.
And please send along your own reflections and memories related to the High Holidays.
Memories of the March
Elul is a month of introspection and preparation. 'Memory is the key to redemption', the Baal Shem Tov teaches. As we look ahead, our traditions teach us first to look back. As with driving, before moving forward, we look behind us.
18 months ago, I was privileged to help lead the New England Delegation (including seven Beth El teens) through Poland and Israel on the March of the Living. .
A flood of memories, moments. Too numerous to list - many still need "processing". Both internally, and through family, friends, and co-Marchers.
Here are but a few:
Low points:
- Standing in hallowed ghetto spaces hearing histories of Lodz (first hand from "Uncle" Phil Ravski), Warsaw, Krakow;
- Of course, Auschwitz/Birkenau, but, perhaps, even more draining - Majdanek;
- “Second Generation” testimonies followed by El Moleh/Kaddish at Treblinka. Then, at the ash pit, a soft, united, uplifting, hand-in-hand Hatikvah at yet another site of horrific mass killing. Farewell to Poland as we head directly to the airport;
-The “lowest” point: Floating effortlessly in the warm, healing, mineral waters of the Dead Sea (“lowest spot on the face of the earth”); looking upon the beautiful, sun-drenched hills of the Judean Desert. With merely a turn of the head, facing the mountains of Moab in Jordan. Barely a stone’s throw across. Actually, not a “low” at all, but quite a “high”!
High points:
- Shabbat morning service at Nozyk shul in Warsaw - with a Bar-Mitzvah no less! The rafters are raised by the joyful noise and excitement of the packed, restored synagogue; the only remaining pre-war shul. (Sadly, it's probably this dynamic and inspiring only a few times year round.);
- We, the New England contingent, proud Jews strolling together through central Warsaw. Dressed in our Shabbat finery, we head towards the Europejski Hotel for our “elaborate” meal. Streets filled with Poles (couples, children, elderly) celebrating May Day/Constitution Day holidays with parades, festivities, Polish pomp. They scrutinize our group: some smile warmly, some seem indifferent to us, others with clearly hostile faces (“mehn hut zei tzushteyrt der simcha!”);
- March itself on Yom Hashoah in Auschwitz – cold, grey, light rain beginning. A quiet,
solemn, beautiful sea of blue.
- Over twelve thousand young people (and adult marchers) from around the world. U. S. delegations included L. A., Ohio, Florida, N. Y., New Jersey, MidWest, New England (of course !) etc. Major contingents from Canada, France, Belgium, Brazil, Argentina, Panama, Australia/New Zealand, Poland, South Africa, Japan, Israel, and numerous others;
- Just boarding El Al jet in Warsaw and landing in Lod 3 hours later. Wheels setting down on Eretz Yisrael - always thrilling !
- New Ben-Gurion International Airport - WOW !
- Wild, wonderful, rockin’ Yom Ha'Atzmaut eve at Zion Square and Ben Yehuda. A combination of Fourth of July, Mardi Gras, and New Year's Eve. Followed by fireworks over downtown Jersusalem;
- Our same Marcher groups gathering in the thousands at Safra Square (opposite Town Hall) next day for more outdoor partying – (Oh, do those Brazilians and Panamanians really have rhythm and boundless energy? Or what?);
- A dozen Israeli security guards dancing the hora;
- Followed by festive, uplifting March through glorious, golden Jerusalem streets, culminating at the Kotel;
- The party continues with evening outdoor barbecue for all Marchers. Then, the “Mega-Event” concert/celebration in Latrun Amphitheatre;
- Most touching:
Final night in Israel: Our New England group (Stamford, Darien, Bridgeport, New Haven, Hartford, Rhode Island, plus Harrisburg), 85 strong, gathers for farewells:
One large circle forms just before sunset of Shabbat - individuals describe moments, feelings, personal enlightenment: Some profound, some insightful, some funny, some unable to express fully.
United all, hand-in-hand, making Havdalah - separating Shabbat from the week. Symbolically separating ourselves as well. Quickly, we rush to finish packing and prepare for our return home to the more mundane. Knowing that, just as Shabbat is always there, so too is Israel and our people's history.
Indescribable pride and appreciation for each and every one of our beautiful, energetic, empowered Marchers (including, of course, our absolutely incredible, dedicated, tireless Staff);
Clearly, for all the experience was memorable.
For some, emotionally or spiritually expanding.
For a few, perhaps life altering.
With a lump in my throat, and tears welling up, looking at these magnificent souls, I see and feel and shep - DOS YIDDISHER NACHAS !
Harry (Hesh) Romanowitz
May 2008
And please send along your own reflections and memories related to the High Holidays.
Memories of the March
Elul is a month of introspection and preparation. 'Memory is the key to redemption', the Baal Shem Tov teaches. As we look ahead, our traditions teach us first to look back. As with driving, before moving forward, we look behind us.
18 months ago, I was privileged to help lead the New England Delegation (including seven Beth El teens) through Poland and Israel on the March of the Living. .
A flood of memories, moments. Too numerous to list - many still need "processing". Both internally, and through family, friends, and co-Marchers.
Here are but a few:
Low points:
- Standing in hallowed ghetto spaces hearing histories of Lodz (first hand from "Uncle" Phil Ravski), Warsaw, Krakow;
- Of course, Auschwitz/Birkenau, but, perhaps, even more draining - Majdanek;
- “Second Generation” testimonies followed by El Moleh/Kaddish at Treblinka. Then, at the ash pit, a soft, united, uplifting, hand-in-hand Hatikvah at yet another site of horrific mass killing. Farewell to Poland as we head directly to the airport;
-The “lowest” point: Floating effortlessly in the warm, healing, mineral waters of the Dead Sea (“lowest spot on the face of the earth”); looking upon the beautiful, sun-drenched hills of the Judean Desert. With merely a turn of the head, facing the mountains of Moab in Jordan. Barely a stone’s throw across. Actually, not a “low” at all, but quite a “high”!
High points:
- Shabbat morning service at Nozyk shul in Warsaw - with a Bar-Mitzvah no less! The rafters are raised by the joyful noise and excitement of the packed, restored synagogue; the only remaining pre-war shul. (Sadly, it's probably this dynamic and inspiring only a few times year round.);
- We, the New England contingent, proud Jews strolling together through central Warsaw. Dressed in our Shabbat finery, we head towards the Europejski Hotel for our “elaborate” meal. Streets filled with Poles (couples, children, elderly) celebrating May Day/Constitution Day holidays with parades, festivities, Polish pomp. They scrutinize our group: some smile warmly, some seem indifferent to us, others with clearly hostile faces (“mehn hut zei tzushteyrt der simcha!”);
- March itself on Yom Hashoah in Auschwitz – cold, grey, light rain beginning. A quiet,
solemn, beautiful sea of blue.
- Over twelve thousand young people (and adult marchers) from around the world. U. S. delegations included L. A., Ohio, Florida, N. Y., New Jersey, MidWest, New England (of course !) etc. Major contingents from Canada, France, Belgium, Brazil, Argentina, Panama, Australia/New Zealand, Poland, South Africa, Japan, Israel, and numerous others;
- Just boarding El Al jet in Warsaw and landing in Lod 3 hours later. Wheels setting down on Eretz Yisrael - always thrilling !
- New Ben-Gurion International Airport - WOW !
- Wild, wonderful, rockin’ Yom Ha'Atzmaut eve at Zion Square and Ben Yehuda. A combination of Fourth of July, Mardi Gras, and New Year's Eve. Followed by fireworks over downtown Jersusalem;
- Our same Marcher groups gathering in the thousands at Safra Square (opposite Town Hall) next day for more outdoor partying – (Oh, do those Brazilians and Panamanians really have rhythm and boundless energy? Or what?);
- A dozen Israeli security guards dancing the hora;
- Followed by festive, uplifting March through glorious, golden Jerusalem streets, culminating at the Kotel;
- The party continues with evening outdoor barbecue for all Marchers. Then, the “Mega-Event” concert/celebration in Latrun Amphitheatre;
- Most touching:
Final night in Israel: Our New England group (Stamford, Darien, Bridgeport, New Haven, Hartford, Rhode Island, plus Harrisburg), 85 strong, gathers for farewells:
One large circle forms just before sunset of Shabbat - individuals describe moments, feelings, personal enlightenment: Some profound, some insightful, some funny, some unable to express fully.
United all, hand-in-hand, making Havdalah - separating Shabbat from the week. Symbolically separating ourselves as well. Quickly, we rush to finish packing and prepare for our return home to the more mundane. Knowing that, just as Shabbat is always there, so too is Israel and our people's history.
Indescribable pride and appreciation for each and every one of our beautiful, energetic, empowered Marchers (including, of course, our absolutely incredible, dedicated, tireless Staff);
Clearly, for all the experience was memorable.
For some, emotionally or spiritually expanding.
For a few, perhaps life altering.
With a lump in my throat, and tears welling up, looking at these magnificent souls, I see and feel and shep - DOS YIDDISHER NACHAS !
Harry (Hesh) Romanowitz
May 2008
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Elul Project #2 - Remembrances of High Holidays Past
My thanks to Rosalea Fisher for contributing her reflections on the High Holidays. You are cordially invited to send me yours!
When I think of my childhood during the High Holidays, I think of our large synagogue in Philadelphia. It really was a synagogue and a JCC combined. Every week I played basketball downstairs in the gym in my high sneakers and attended Shabbat Jr. Congregation services upstairs.
On the High Holidays, I remember sitting in a very large auditorium because our family could not afford the cost of the seats in the main sanctuary. I sat next to my parents, often helping my Mother find her place on the page. She had recently learned to read Hebrew and always wanted to know where we were on the page. I remember fasting from a very early age, years before becoming a Bat Mitzvah.
If I close my eyes now, I can hear the choir singing majestically, almost angelically, behind a screen. I always wondered how they were able to sing all day as they fasted. Those were the days of long operatic-style performance pieces scattered throughout the long service. Sometimes I even lost my place during those moments and was unable to help my mother find hers. As a teenager, I often congregated with hundreds of other young people in front of the synagogue visiting with my friends, perhaps spending less time with my parents.
On Yom Kippur we walked home (we lived two blocks from our Temple) in the afternoon and set the table for our family break-the-fast dinner. My sister was in charge of having everything ready when we returned home. Then my Mother and I walked back to Temple to pray together until sundown and the end of the service. We came home to a dairy dinner with my family - sometimes blintzes, sometimes lox and scrambled eggs, sometimes tuna salad, always a large glass of orange juice. I remember eating just a little bit and becoming satisfied very quickly. A little piece of bobka, and that was it for me.
Being with my Mother in synagogue, listening to the choir, praying together, and finally enjoying our break-the-fast meal with my family. What more could a young Jewish girl ask for - nothing.
Rosalea S. Fisher
When I think of my childhood during the High Holidays, I think of our large synagogue in Philadelphia. It really was a synagogue and a JCC combined. Every week I played basketball downstairs in the gym in my high sneakers and attended Shabbat Jr. Congregation services upstairs.
On the High Holidays, I remember sitting in a very large auditorium because our family could not afford the cost of the seats in the main sanctuary. I sat next to my parents, often helping my Mother find her place on the page. She had recently learned to read Hebrew and always wanted to know where we were on the page. I remember fasting from a very early age, years before becoming a Bat Mitzvah.
If I close my eyes now, I can hear the choir singing majestically, almost angelically, behind a screen. I always wondered how they were able to sing all day as they fasted. Those were the days of long operatic-style performance pieces scattered throughout the long service. Sometimes I even lost my place during those moments and was unable to help my mother find hers. As a teenager, I often congregated with hundreds of other young people in front of the synagogue visiting with my friends, perhaps spending less time with my parents.
On Yom Kippur we walked home (we lived two blocks from our Temple) in the afternoon and set the table for our family break-the-fast dinner. My sister was in charge of having everything ready when we returned home. Then my Mother and I walked back to Temple to pray together until sundown and the end of the service. We came home to a dairy dinner with my family - sometimes blintzes, sometimes lox and scrambled eggs, sometimes tuna salad, always a large glass of orange juice. I remember eating just a little bit and becoming satisfied very quickly. A little piece of bobka, and that was it for me.
Being with my Mother in synagogue, listening to the choir, praying together, and finally enjoying our break-the-fast meal with my family. What more could a young Jewish girl ask for - nothing.
Rosalea S. Fisher
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Elul Project #1 - SEND ME YOUR REFLECTIONS
Several years back, I was part of an experimental effort of Synagogue Transformation and Renewal (STAR) designed to help congregations in their spiritual preparations for the High Holidays. It was a series of discussions communicated electronically; we called it the Elul Project. You can still read about it online here and see my own contrivbutino to it here.
My colleague Neil Kurshan is doing a different sort of Elul Project with his Long Island congregnats this month, inviting them to submit personal reflections and recollections having to do with the High Holidays. I think that is a great idea and would like to try it here.
I'll post your reflections on this blog and on our website, with minimal editing.
Send me antything: One line anecdotes or entire chapters. poetry, thoughts about specific prayers, moments of history here at TBE (like the time the fire alarm went off during Kol Nidre) or at your hometown shul, or other favorite moments; recipes, theological insights, haikus, Tweets. personal thoughts about being Jewish. A travelogue from Israel or Jewish sites elsewhere. Comments are welcome from congregants or others in our extended family, relatives and friends, including college students and recent graduaates, Young Professionals and retirees who have moved away. Let's reach out across the cyber airways to share our thoughts.
Also, I'd love to hear about some special mitzvahs you or someone you know may be up to. We call them "signature mitzvot" and this will be a main focus for the year.
You name it. Let this be our way of preparing. I would love to hear from you!
All of this is a way of introducing our first Elul Reflection for this year. It was written by Matt Raskin, son of Irma and Dan (of blessed memory) and Dan is now a member of Rabbi Kurshan's congtregation. But he grew up here and this essay is all about that.
Thanks to Dan and Irma for sharing it with us.
THE SOUNDING OF THE SHOFAR
I recall first sounding the shofar at my Junior Congregation at Temple Beth El Stamford CT in the mid 1960's. I had asked the principal of Hebrew School if I could try the shofar. I told him I think I can do it because I'm a trumpet player. I must have been around 10. Mr. Paul Lehman said "Ok, here is the shofar!" and he gave me a pamphlet that described the three notes. I went into the library and proceeded to blow. That Rosh Hashana I recall I blew for the Jr. Congregation, and my 4th grade Hebrew teacher. Mr. Abe Hecht pinched my cheek on the bima in front of all my classmates. That was the beginning. I repeated this performance each year and when the shul moved to our newly constructed synagogue in North Stamford, I was honored while in High School to share the honor on Rosh Hashanah sounding the shofar with Mr. Al Golin, the Shul's president. I used the shofar I hand picked in the lower East Side in 1969 when my mother and aunt brought me there that summer to purchase my Bar Mitzvah talit and the tefillin that I still wear today at Minyan.
I recall also during Elul attending Minyan while in High School with my father and uncle Oscar Gelb. When the head usher for the shul asked my uncle if he knew someone who could blow the shofar, my uncle exclaimed, “Matthew can do it!” I was up at the bima in an instant that morning of Elul sounding..tekiah, shevarim, teruah, tekiah godolah!
While I did not sound the shofar during college, in retrospect I wish I had. When I moved to the small upstate town of Cortland NY, I had the opportunity to blow the shofar for the small shul there, and it was very much appreciated and such a deep honor for me as a young adult in my 20's. It really gave me a sense of who I was as a Jew at this time.
Then in 1987 when I moved back to the metro area to Huntington and attended Rosh Hashanah services with my parents and my wife, Darlene. After the holiday meal my mother prepared, my father and I would visit two nursing homes assigned by the cantor to sound the shofar for those who otherwise could not hear it. My father would say, “Let's blow it together.”, and I'd say, “That will sound dissonant...”, but I did anyway because my dad wanted it that way. We felt good about the good deed we did together
Then there was the shofar contest my dad and I were in at the Stamford Jewish Center hosted by our Cantor, Sidney Rabinowitz. My dad created a card board mock set of Walls of Jericho and when we blew, he knocked down the walls for special effect. We won a special prize. I got a wonderful recording of Jan Pierce chanting cantorial masterpieces, very inspiring.
Well, on the day of my father's funeral I found his shofar as I was allowed to blow shofar at his grave site. The funeral was only days after Rosh Hashana. When I found his shofar, I went over to the piano and sounded it and compared it to mine that I picked out in 1969. It was only then that I realized how these two shofarot were musically related. They were not dissonant at all. They were musically connected.. where one left off the other continued. I could explain this by demonstrating as I did during his eulogy. If I recall, mine started on G and went to C. His started at C and went up a perfect forth to F, ascending to heaven or to infinity spiritually I thought...
So you see the shofar has played a very important and significant part in my life during Elul and the High Holidays. I am so fortunate to be able to sound the shofar as I can, and to have the wonderful opportunity to continue my journey as a Ba’al Tekiah at HJC. TEKIAH!
B'shalom,
Matt Raskin
Moshe Chaim ben David
My colleague Neil Kurshan is doing a different sort of Elul Project with his Long Island congregnats this month, inviting them to submit personal reflections and recollections having to do with the High Holidays. I think that is a great idea and would like to try it here.
I'll post your reflections on this blog and on our website, with minimal editing.
Send me antything: One line anecdotes or entire chapters. poetry, thoughts about specific prayers, moments of history here at TBE (like the time the fire alarm went off during Kol Nidre) or at your hometown shul, or other favorite moments; recipes, theological insights, haikus, Tweets. personal thoughts about being Jewish. A travelogue from Israel or Jewish sites elsewhere. Comments are welcome from congregants or others in our extended family, relatives and friends, including college students and recent graduaates, Young Professionals and retirees who have moved away. Let's reach out across the cyber airways to share our thoughts.
Also, I'd love to hear about some special mitzvahs you or someone you know may be up to. We call them "signature mitzvot" and this will be a main focus for the year.
You name it. Let this be our way of preparing. I would love to hear from you!
All of this is a way of introducing our first Elul Reflection for this year. It was written by Matt Raskin, son of Irma and Dan (of blessed memory) and Dan is now a member of Rabbi Kurshan's congtregation. But he grew up here and this essay is all about that.
Thanks to Dan and Irma for sharing it with us.
----------------------------------------
THE SOUNDING OF THE SHOFAR
I recall first sounding the shofar at my Junior Congregation at Temple Beth El Stamford CT in the mid 1960's. I had asked the principal of Hebrew School if I could try the shofar. I told him I think I can do it because I'm a trumpet player. I must have been around 10. Mr. Paul Lehman said "Ok, here is the shofar!" and he gave me a pamphlet that described the three notes. I went into the library and proceeded to blow. That Rosh Hashana I recall I blew for the Jr. Congregation, and my 4th grade Hebrew teacher. Mr. Abe Hecht pinched my cheek on the bima in front of all my classmates. That was the beginning. I repeated this performance each year and when the shul moved to our newly constructed synagogue in North Stamford, I was honored while in High School to share the honor on Rosh Hashanah sounding the shofar with Mr. Al Golin, the Shul's president. I used the shofar I hand picked in the lower East Side in 1969 when my mother and aunt brought me there that summer to purchase my Bar Mitzvah talit and the tefillin that I still wear today at Minyan.
I recall also during Elul attending Minyan while in High School with my father and uncle Oscar Gelb. When the head usher for the shul asked my uncle if he knew someone who could blow the shofar, my uncle exclaimed, “Matthew can do it!” I was up at the bima in an instant that morning of Elul sounding..tekiah, shevarim, teruah, tekiah godolah!
While I did not sound the shofar during college, in retrospect I wish I had. When I moved to the small upstate town of Cortland NY, I had the opportunity to blow the shofar for the small shul there, and it was very much appreciated and such a deep honor for me as a young adult in my 20's. It really gave me a sense of who I was as a Jew at this time.
Then in 1987 when I moved back to the metro area to Huntington and attended Rosh Hashanah services with my parents and my wife, Darlene. After the holiday meal my mother prepared, my father and I would visit two nursing homes assigned by the cantor to sound the shofar for those who otherwise could not hear it. My father would say, “Let's blow it together.”, and I'd say, “That will sound dissonant...”, but I did anyway because my dad wanted it that way. We felt good about the good deed we did together
Then there was the shofar contest my dad and I were in at the Stamford Jewish Center hosted by our Cantor, Sidney Rabinowitz. My dad created a card board mock set of Walls of Jericho and when we blew, he knocked down the walls for special effect. We won a special prize. I got a wonderful recording of Jan Pierce chanting cantorial masterpieces, very inspiring.
Well, on the day of my father's funeral I found his shofar as I was allowed to blow shofar at his grave site. The funeral was only days after Rosh Hashana. When I found his shofar, I went over to the piano and sounded it and compared it to mine that I picked out in 1969. It was only then that I realized how these two shofarot were musically related. They were not dissonant at all. They were musically connected.. where one left off the other continued. I could explain this by demonstrating as I did during his eulogy. If I recall, mine started on G and went to C. His started at C and went up a perfect forth to F, ascending to heaven or to infinity spiritually I thought...
So you see the shofar has played a very important and significant part in my life during Elul and the High Holidays. I am so fortunate to be able to sound the shofar as I can, and to have the wonderful opportunity to continue my journey as a Ba’al Tekiah at HJC. TEKIAH!
B'shalom,
Matt Raskin
Moshe Chaim ben David
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