There are a lot of important issues to write about this morning: the mid-term elections, the situation in Jerusalem and other critical issues which should be on all of our minds. But, in the eclectic spirit of this blog, I want to write about someone who performed a very important function for many of us. He made us laugh and maybe taught us something about our cars in the process.

Tom Magliozzi died yesterday at the age of 77. He was one of the “Tapett” brothers, who brought the show Car Talk to people across the country and around the world each week on NPR. I have to admit that I had never listened to the show until about a year ago. I’m not that interested in cars and even knowing they were from Boston, didn’t make me want to listen to two guys named Click and Clack talk about automobiles. But, a year or so ago, I turned to one of the NPR stations on Satellite Radio which was airing an old episode of Car Talk and I realized what I had been missing all of these years.

Yes, they were talking about cars and I actually learned a little from their conversations. But, what I particularly found endearing was their way of talking with callers. I love to observe how different people in various areas of broadcasting interact with the public and they had a knack for laughing with people, pushing their jokes just far enough to stop short of insulting the caller, chit-chatting with them while they were trying to figure out a good answer to their problem and generally made them feel good about calling the show. That is one of the two things about their show that I particular liked as both Tom and Ray (and don’t ask me which was which, I’m still not sure) made their callers and their listeners laugh.

But, for me, the highlight of the show came at the end of each hour and with Satellite radio playing three hour long episodes each afternoon, we got to hear this three times each day. They would always end by reading the “credits’, the names of fictitious individuals who contributed to their show and they were the most marvelous puns I have ever heard and that is not an exaggeration. I don’t know who wrote them but they were fantastic.

Among the best: the Russian chauffeur Picov Andropov, the airplane seat tester: Wilma Buttfit, the head of the working mother’s division: Erasmus B Dragon and my particular favorite, the videographer from the Tel Aviv office: Shlomo Replay. If any of these escape you, stick with it, you’ll figure it out and then just type in Car Talk Credits on an internet search engine and you’ll get the entire list.

Thanks Tom for all the laughs. Some things live on after our death and good humor and good memories certainly do.

This weekend, Beth Israel will host two events as part of a community wide Yiddish festival. The festival’s activities will include lectures, films, music and a general celebration of Yiddish language and culture.

I don’t speak Yiddish. I understand some words and phrases but like many my age, my association with Yiddish is largely nostalgic and is focused mainly around what I remember from my childhood.

My maternal grandmother spoke Yiddish quite often and usually spoke it in conversation with my father. My grandmother was born in Russia and Yiddish was her first language and the language spoken at home when she was a child. My father was born here but his father spoke Yiddish at home. He was a non-religious Jew who was completely absorbed in Jewish culture and Yiddish was naturally the focus of much of my grandfather’s identity as a Jew.

My mother understood some of her mother’s Yiddish but never spoke the language so my experience with the language was listening to my grandmother and my father try to speak with each other. I say “try to” because while they both spoke Yiddish, there was obviously a great difference in the language they had each learned based on the fact that their families had come from different places in Europe. I remember finding it very funny to hear them try to understand each other, most often succeeding, but only after critical English words had been thrown in to the conversation.

After all these years, the clearest memories I have of Yiddish in our home was of my Grandmother’s and father’s frequently used phrases. I’m going to try to recreate some of them here but keep in mind that transliteration is always a problem and their brands of Yiddish came from particular places and times so the phrases which might sound a bit off to anyone exposed to a different form of the language.

Some of my favorites were her response to a simple Gut Shabbas. She would say: Gut Shabbas, Gut Yor, a Gezunt Yor, a Leibidike Yor “You should have a good year, a healthy year, a year of life”… I think there were more good wishes but I don’t remember them.

Then, if we were to pass a car on the side of the road which had been in an accident or some other kind of trouble, she would always say: nidugadacht. which I take to mean: “it shouldn’t happen”.

Finally, she would often say when something bad happened: “Oy a klox a mir” which I think meant: “Oy, there is a curse on me” but I’d love to hear a better translation.

My father’s favorites included this line which we often heard while watching football games; “vikeyn gihaged dorten”, “you could get killed there”.

He would always talk about “a taite bunker” at the end of a long phrase meaning: “It would help as much as a dead leech”.

But, there were other much more common phrases as well and other longer, more explicit and more emotional expressions which I won’t go into.

I know there is so much more to Yiddish language and culture than the few odd phrases I still remember from my childhood. I regret not learning the language and being able to read Yiddish stories or poetry in the original. But, I am truly appreciative of those who aim to keep the language and the culture alive. It is a critical part of our tradition as Jews and the revival in different places of Yiddish helps us continue the chain of Jewish culture and tradition to generations to come. It also helps many of us hold onto some distant childhood memories.

I hope those of you in Ann Arbor will take advantage of the opportunity offered by this very special week of programming to celebrate Yiddish. Even if your familiarity with the language is weak as mine is, we can all rejoice in this important part of our tradition and our culture.

This morning, I did it again. I stood out in the chilly pre-dawn air. This time I had to stand in the middle of the street but I was able to do that rather comfortably. I know some people in neighboring homes were looking at me trying to figure out what I was doing. But, it’s no secret and it shouldn’t have been a surprise. I was looking at the total lunar eclipse. It was a beautifully clear morning and once I was able to get to a point where the trees weren’t in the way, it was a beautiful sight.

I have written in this blog and in other places about my fascination with astronomy and with various celestial phenomena. In many ways, the lunar eclipse is among the less spectacular of these to the layperson. There is, really, not much to see except a progressively smaller and then progressively bigger moon. But, still, I am fascinated and wouldn’t miss it when it is visible, especially since Michigan weather rarely seems to cooperate.

I think that for me the most fascinating aspect of the lunar eclipse is the most easily explained by those more skilled in science than myself. But, I still can not quite understand how these events can be predicted so accurately. I know it is simply a matter of mathematics, physics, astronomy etc. which scientists find easy to calculate using their knowledge and computer technology. But, I see in this predictability the hand of the Creator whose universe follows such strict, predictable rules that such calculations can be made in the first place. This eclipse, like all of the others, was right on time.

But, this lunar eclipse was special in another way. A lunar eclipse, by definition, can only take place at the time of a full moon. But, this full moon is special in that it is the full moon heralding the beginning of the holiday of Sukkot this evening. Biblical holidays were calculated according to the lunar month and the time for Sukkot, the harvest holiday, was established at the full moon. Whether there was a philosophical reason for this date or whether it was simply the brightest night of the month which would make a celebration more meaningful or more convenient, it seems so appropriate that the holiday be tied to the full moon.

What particular moves me about this though is that, 6 months ago, on the other side of the calendar, we looked at the same full moon as we sat down at the Pesach seder. Passover was also timed to come at the time of the full moon allowing us to imagine the Exodus from Egypt taking place on that brightest night of the month with the light reflecting from the full moon symbolizing the light of freedom.

Not every full moon produces a lunar eclipse of course. But, I am grateful for the opportunity this year, as we approach the holiday of Sukkot to have had a good reason to go out and stare at the moon. Doing so reminds us not only of the grandeur of the universe but of the passage of time as we move from celebration to celebration, from festival to festival, from freedom to Thanksgiving.

Hag Sameach!

Our Rabbis teach us that there are 613 commandments, mitzvot, in the Torah. There are many ways to divide these commandments: positive (You must…) vs negative (You must not…), ritual vs ethical, etc. But by studying this past week’s Torah portion of Ki Tetze, we can see another way to divide the commandments.

While there are some commandments we must perform, some we only perform if the opportunity arises: such as returning a lost object or sending away the mother bird before taking from the nest. We can’t plan to observe these mitzvot, we can only observe them if given the opportunity.

But, there is in addition to these, one mitzvah which falls into neither category.

There is a mitzvah which we can only observe unintentionally.

This is the mitzvah of the forgotten sheaf. According to the Torah, if after harvesting one’s field, one realizes that one has forgotten to take in a sheaf of wheat from the field, one is forbidden to return to claim the sheaf. We must leave it for the needy.

This mitzvah can only be observed unintentionally. One can certainly pro-actively leave a sheaf in the field for the poor- in fact the mitzvah of peah, leaving the corners of the field unharvested for the poor to take is a reflection of this. But, one can not claim to have forgotten a sheaf if that was done on purpose. The mitzvah can only be fulfilled if, in fact, the sheaf was actually forgotten. Thus, only by the unplanned act of forgetting the sheaf can this mitzvah be fulfilled.

So, what does this have to say to those of us who are not farmers?

Perhaps the message here is that sometimes we do good things for people without intending it or even without realizing that we have, in fact, done so. Sometimes, we perform acts which have unintended and unidentified positive effects.

As we approach the High Holy Days, we consider our lives and consider the good and the bad that we have done. It is human nature that we might have performed acts which were harmful to others without realizing it and so we have to atone for sins we know of and those we might not be aware of.

But, we should also take comfort in the possibility that something we did benefitted someone else without our knowing it. We should take some measure of solace in believing that, in fact, we might have metaphorically speaking forgotten a sheaf in the field which ended up benefitting a fellow human being.

This year is the 47th anniversary of a baseball season I will never forget and I know I share that with every New Englander above the age of 55. It was the year of the Impossible Dream, the year the Boston Red Sox shocked the baseball world by winning the American League Pennant after so many years of frustration and embarrassing play. What a season it was.

There were many fantastic moments in that season: Billy Rohr almost pitching a no-hitter in his first major league start, going 8 and 2/3 innings before giving up a base hit with the first out of the 9th coming on a tremendous catch by Carl Yastrzemski; the Sox coming back from an 8-0 deficit to beat the Angels 9-8; Jose Tartabull throwing Ken Berry of the White Sox out at home plate to end a 2-1 victory and two wins against the Twins in the last two games to secure the pennant.

But, there was one night at Fenway Park that was excruciatingly sad- and I was there, 47 years ago last night.

The Red Sox were playing the Angels and in the lead when Tony Conigliaro came up to bat in the 5th inning. Tony C was one of the most popular Sox players, especially among the younger fans. Handsome, muscular, young and quite the “man about town”, he was the epitome of the young sports idol. He even had recorded a 45 rpm rock and roll record as a singer (one side was called “Playing the Field”). He was a power hitter who had reached 100 home runs at an earlier age than any other player in American League history. He had it all.

We were sitting in the bleachers that night and I distinctly remember looking down at my scorecard as Jack Hamilton of the Angels threw the ball to the plate. I remember hearing an odd noise and looking up saw Tony Conigliaro lying on the ground motionless. The ballpark was silent. All of the excitement of the pennant race and all of the fun of the game was gone in that one horrible moment. I remember people who saw Tony get hit in the face saying that they thought he had been killed. Apparently, many of his teammates feared so as well.

He was lifted carefully onto a stretcher and carried off. He survived with damage to his vision and the Sox went on to win the pennant but the memory of that night stayed with the team and its fans.

Tony Conigliaro actually made a comeback two years later and played rather well for the Sox but his eyesight worsened again. He even came back once again briefly in 1975, ironically the next Red Sox pennant year but he only played a few games.

He died in 1990 after suffering a heart attack and a stroke 8 years before.

Some say he would have been one of the greatest hitters of all time. But, we’ll never know.

So, what is the point of this posting? Just another Red Sox memory?

Maybe.

But, maybe there is something more. Maybe it’s just another reminder to cherish each day, to make the most of our skills and talents while we can and to realize that no one is invincible.

I will never forget that night. I remember sitting in the back seat on the way home trying to make sense of it all.

I couldn’t figure it out that night and still haven’t and never will.

May he rest in peace and may we all cherish every day.

Over the years, I have done my share, some would say “more than my share”, of criticizing specific policies of the government of Israel. I should note very quickly that these comments need to be taken in the context of the many times I have celebrated what Israel means to us as Jews and to the world as well and the joy I have experienced in taking many groups on tours to Israel over the years. But, I stand by my criticism about the policies that I feel are not in line with the values and a secure future for the State.

I want Israel to be the best nation that it can be, taking into account its legitimate security needs. I want the vision of an Israel based on justice, equality and fairness to be fulfilled and I am disappointed when it is not.

But, let me be clear, as I have been so many times before. Focusing on human rights and other issues within Israel is not in any way meant to imply in any way that Israel’s failings are worse than other nations. That is obviously not the case.

In addition to focusing on issues in Israel, we as Jews, need to speak out against heinous violations of human rights and ethics that take place in the world. What we are seeing from the news stories about ISIS and other extremist groups against Christians and other minority groups is horrendous, heartbreaking and demands a response. This is uncivilized behavior for which there is no excuse and for which there should be no tolerance. I am proud that our nation is seeking to stop the advance and growth of this group and I only hope that we accomplish that mission and save the individuals who are being persecuted and slaughtered in such inhumane ways.

It is natural that we focus on the issues facing the countries that are nearest to our hearts. Recognizing that our failings are less objectionable than others in the world doesn’t remove from us the responsibility of putting our own house in order. But, it is also incumbent on us to fulfill the responsibilities of speaking out against human rights abuses throughout the world and to speak frankly and bluntly when others engage in actions which go against our values as human beings. I pray for our nation’s and the world’s strength in standing against such atrocities and stopping them.

Today is Tisha B’av, the fast of the 9th of Av, the saddest day on the Jewish Calendar. It is the anniversary of the destruction of both Temples in Jerusalem and recognized as the anniversary of several other sad events in our history.

This year, as we do every year, we read the book of Lamentations, Eichah, during the evening and the morning and read  kinot, dirges, mourning the loss of the Temples and the destruction of Jerusalem.

The book of Eichah is heartbreaking. Its descriptions of death and destruction, pain and suffering are so powerful and the language so intense that one can not help but be moved by the words and the mournful tune. One can imagine Jerusalem lying in ruins with its people suffering in such deep pain.

But, as I read Eichah this year, I did not think of Jerusalem, I thought of Gaza.

Let me be clear as I have been all along in my blog postings. I am fully aware of Hamas’ desire to destroy Israel and I take them at their word that this is what they seek. I do not doubt that Hamas uses horrible tactics such as using human shields or placing their own civilians in harm’s way. And I certainly do not question Israel’s right to self-defense against those who seek to destroy it.

But, I could not get the pictures of Gaza out of my mind as I read Eichah this year.

While I worry about my friends and family members throughout Israel who have to run to shelters when the siren is heard, this time it is Gaza that in the words of Lamentations is the city that sits solitary and destroyed with its residents seeking in vain for protection.

While I cry for the families of brave Israeli soldiers who answered the call to protect their country, I cry as well for the children of Gaza who have been killed or wounded or left without family to protect them and help them grow. I cry for all of those who were not militants, who did not seek to destroy or hurt others,  who had no place to run and no place to hide from the attacks.

I don’t pretend to be a military expert. I have no idea what Israel could or should have done differently, if anything, to prevent the massive death and destruction that Gaza has experienced. But, regardless of the justification of Israel to act in self-defense, the “city” that I thought of when I considered Tisha B’av’s call to picture a destroyed city was, in fact, Gaza.

I understand that war is not pretty and that sometimes it comes down to “us” or “them” and our tradition would tell us never to denigrate the importance of your life and your security in deference to an enemy’s. I get that. But, I still can’t stop thinking of the innocent people in Gaza and wondering whether it could have been different.

Should, God willing, this cease fire hold, I pray that Israel immediately begins to put all of its energy and resources into finding a way to make peace with the Palestinians and give their people a chance at a secure, independent life, the same we hope for our own people in the State of Israel.

And, if that does happen, I pray that Jews throughout the world will stand with Israel as it works for peace with as much solidarity, passion and loyalty as we do during times of war.

This Shabbat is Shabbat Nachamu, the Shabbat of comfort. May God bring comfort to all.

Let’s take time out from the serious, frightening, gut-wrenching issues in the news and focus on something less earthshaking but something that touches me deeply.

Today’s New York Times featured a piece which was really a rant by Neil Genzinger in what is called the “Critic’s Notebook” The piece was called; “Sure you Loved Lucy, But Vintage Has Limits”.

The reporter was complaining about the proliferation of old tv situation comedies around the cable networks and, to an extent, I agree. There is one station that apparently shows Mr. Ed for several hours on weekend mornings.

Say what you want about that phenomenon but it was this line that stunned me: “But today, the broad humor (of I Love Lucy) draws only the occasional chuckle.

I am shocked.

I was so astounded by this line that I ran to my I Love Lucy Box Set and watched Lucy, dressed as Carmen Miranda, lip-synch to one of her records while it unexpectedly sped up and then slowed down. “Occasional Chuckle”? I was on the floor laughing and I’ve seen it more than 100 times.

Every single episode of I Love Lucy has at least one example- and many have many more- of precise comedic timing, daring bits of physical humor, unforgettable facial expressions and the beauty of an ensemble cast working together. It is genius.

And, while we’re at it, the author of the Times’ piece called Green Acres “empty-headed”. What? Green Acres was one of the most brilliant pieces of comic writing, full of self-deprecating humor with cute, creative touches (such as when Lisa would find the credits written on the sheets she took out of the laundry).

He claims that the Honeymooners’ seems sad because Alice and Ralph screamed at each other. The verbal abuse is a little hard to take but watch that show carefully, they love each other with a depth that comes through the yelling. And, when Jackie Gleason plays Ralph Kramden, you are watching an artist at work.

Well, enough of that for today. Just so you know how I feel. Now back to the real world. Do we have to?

I remember exactly where I was 45 years ago this morning. I was in a summer program at Hebrew College (then called Hebrew Teachers’ College) in Brookline, Massachusetts. On that Wednesday morning, July 16, 1969, we took a test and when I finished taking the test, I went out into the hallway where some other students were gathered around a radio listening to the news reports of the lift off of Apollo 11.

As I have written on many previous occasions, I was- and remain- a big fan of the space program. I remember that week in 1969 so clearly and, as can so many others I’m sure, remember so vividly the landing on the moon and the first moonwalk. Those days are indelibly etched in my mind.

As we mark this anniversary, the inevitable question comes up again: Was it worth it? Couldn’t the billions of dollars spent on space exploration have been used for more pragmatic purposes- to feed the hungry or house the homeless?

Of course, we could have found more immediate uses for the money that went into the space program. But, human beings were meant to be explorers. We were created with a thirst for knowledge and a desire to learn more about who we are and where we came from. I know that there were political issues involved in the space program for the beginning- gaining an advantage of the Soviets- but there was also a desire to learn, to understand more about the universe in which we live, to expand our horizons. We have all benefitted in so many ways from this effort and no amount of second guessing can change that.

We all decide, as nations and as individuals, how to budget our resources. What do we choose to spend money on? How do we use our energy, our talent, our intelligence and our curiosity? And as nations, those questions become even bigger: Do we choose to build or to destroy? Do we choose to elevate our goals for the good of our people and others or do we seek power and control?

When the astronauts landed on the moon in July 1974, they placed a plaque which read in part: “We came in peace for all mankind”. Whatever the lunar landing accomplished, it did not bring peace to the world and here 40 years later, those of us whose hearts and minds are connected with what is happening in Israel and Gaza know this full well. And, Israelis and Palestinians on the ground know it better than anyone.

Through all of the questions and all of the issues that this conflict raises, one which continues to arise is: Why did the Palestinians in Gaza choose to follow a path of attempting to destroy Israel rather than to build up their own state and feed and house their people? Why did they choose to use their energy, talent and intelligence to find new ways to threaten Israel rather than to attempt to build up an economy to benefit their own citizens? These questions need to be considered for all of their implications.

You know from reading my blog and other pieces that I have written that I have expressed criticism for some of Israel’s policies over the years including some of the policies relating to Gaza. I stand by those criticisms. But, it can’t be denied and it should not be forgotten that there was potential for Gaza to be turned into a peaceful, economically stronger area with self-determination and independence. It would not have been easy for sure. But, it could have been done. A different choice was made, a choice to seek to destroy rather than to build and the ramifications of that choice are still being felt today.

The beautiful pictures of the earth rising above the surface of the moon taken by the astronauts of Apollo 8 show such an inviting, peaceful place contrasting to the barrenness of the moon and the darkness of space. That picture gave us all hope but hope only becomes reality when people, all people, commit to building rather than destroying.