My mother, Gertrude Dobrusin, was born 97 years ago today on September 2, 1922. She was a rather unique individual in many different ways and I think of her every day and always with a smile.

She always loved to tell stories about her youth and her extended Goldman family and it was quite a large family as her father had 10 siblings. There were great aunts and uncles, and 2nd cousins that we met and those we only had heard of in the complicated tales she would tell.

But, there was always one bit of mystery that my mother would inject into stories. She used to tell us that she thought that one of her great grandparents was buried someplace in Massachusetts. I was fascinated by this since I didn’t know any of my Jewish friends who had visited the graves of a great great grandparent. It was unusual enough that I knew where our great grandparents were buried and had visited the graves many times. While I only knew one grandparent, the idea that a great great grandparent was buried in this country gave me a great sense of family pride.

But one of my mother’s idiosyncrasies was that she would tell us a tantalizing story and then the story would end someplace in the middle. For years, I asked her to find out where her great grandmother was buried and she never did. And, when she died in 2005, the information, we assumed was lost forever.

Then genealogical research was made easier through the Internet and through a complicated set of circumstances, I met a third cousin and he told me that he knew who our common relative, our great great grandmother, was and where she was buried. Her name was Rasha Gershuney and she was buried in Worcester, Massachusetts. And, most importantly, he told me some of the family living in the area knew exactly where the grave was.

So, a few months later, during a trip to the Boston area, we went to visit the grave but we couldn’t find it in the large cemetery. A second trip a few years later yielded the same disappointing result.

Then, two weeks ago, I received an email from my 2nd cousin Tracey, whom I had also met through this research, asking if we ever found her grave. After I told her of our failures, she did some great research and was able to pinpoint the place of Rasha’s grave.

This was the information we needed and I took it from there. I contacted a rabbinic colleague in the area and asked if she knew the caretakers at the cemetery and if so, would they take a picture of the grave and send it to me? My colleague gladly offered her help and a few days ago, the mystery was solved. Here is the picture she sent.

My great grandfather had changed his family name from Gershuney to Goldman and since his death preceded Rasha’s, presumably someone else decided to record her name on the stone as Goldman (spelled incorrectly in English but correctly in Hebrew) and to anglicize her name Rasha to Rose. But, there was no question that this was her grave. The name of her father (my great great great grandfather Mordecai) and the date of her death matched all of our records.

So, there it was. Finally, the end to the story my mother tried to tell me over and over again.

It is ironic that we received this a few days before her birthday, maybe it is not a coincidence.

Maybe it is also not a coincidence that I’m going to be in Boston for a family celebration later this month so I’ll be up in the area to celebrate with cousins on my father’s side of the family. Instead of my original plan to spend Friday afternoon doing what I love to do, wandering through the North Shore looking for a “fish shack” to get some fried haddock and onion rings, I’ll take the Mass Pike out to Worcester to stand at the grave of my great great grandmother and realize once again the long history our family has in this great country.

In 2012, I traveled thousands of miles to stand in a cemetery in Preili, Latvia at a monument to the residents of that town who were slaughtered by Latvian collaborators as the Nazis took over the town. Among those were my great uncle and several of my 2nd cousins.

That visit was horribly sad. This one will be happy. Even if she never did see the story to the conclusion, I’m glad to close this circle on one of my mother’s long stories and to recognize once again how fortunate I and my children are that our ancestors made that long journey to America.

Happy birthday, Mom.

Many times over the past four years, I have expressed my thoughts on statements by then candidate, now President Trump. So many of these statements have left me greatly concerned as an American and as a Jew.

But, yesterday’s statement brought this entire discussion to a new place and it is a terrifying place.

Yesterday, the President said: “”I think Jewish people that vote for a Democrat — I think it shows either a total lack of knowledge or great disloyalty,” 

As I wrote on Facebook and as so many have expressed, the word “loyalty” carries with it tremendous implications and historical gravity for Jews. For centuries, Jews have been accused of a lack of loyalty to the nation in which we live, holding greater loyalty to our people and, since 1948, to the state of Israel. This claim of disloyalty or secondary loyalty has led to persecution against Jews for centuries.

So, when President Trump used these words yesterday, he was using language which resonates deeply within our hearts and minds as Jews.

It is not immediately clear what disloyalty the President was alluding to but I assume that he was saying that Jews who vote for Democratic candidates are being disloyal to the Jewish people and to Israel.

There is so much that needs to be said.

First, it goes without saying that President Trump has no right to lecture me or any Jew about how to express our Jewishness. This patronizing, demeaning attitude is shameful.

But, more importantly, from my perspective, his assumption about what makes a “loyal Jew” is simply wrong.

I do not deny that there are some within the Democratic party who have made anti-Semitic statements and this concerns me deeply. But, the assumption that the fact that more Republicans are vocal in their support for the current government of Israel translates into an administration that is “better for Jews” is misleading to say the least.

I care deeply about Israel but President Trump has repeatedly made support for Israel a “partisan issue”. This preceded his administration when republican leaders invited Prime Minister Netanyahu to speak before Congress to argue against President Obama’s support of the Iran Nuclear deal. The scene of so many in Congress cheering Netanyahu so ecstatically while disrespecting the leader of our nation was unsettling to say the least. While I am glad to see Israel have the support in Congress, that scene set the tone for the relationship that has been built up between Trump and Netanyahu which culminated a week ago in the Prime Minister, apparently, agreeing to the President’s suggestion that two Democratic members of congress who have been blatantly critical of Israel not be permitted to enter the country.

This decision was soundly criticized by most American Jewish organizations and rightly so.

Mr. President, there are many people who care about Israel who do not agree with the positions of the Netanyahu government. We will not be swayed by your claim that loyalty to a state means agreement with current policy.

But, there is a more important point to be made.

I am a loyal American. I am deeply concerned about the direction this country is taking and I believe that the values that Judaism espouses are being trampled on by this administration.

As Jews, we are called on to be compassionate, to recognize the image of God in all people, to be concerned for the earth which we live on, to protect our children from violence, to welcome the stranger and care for those in need.

These are not uniquely Jewish values as they are shared by so many in our nation and these values guide my vote on election day.

I intend to vote for a Democrat in 2020 because this administration has stood against recognizing climate change, dismissed the value of science, refused to enact laws protecting our children from gun violence, sought to take away from women the right to make decisions about their own bodies, referred to those seeking asylum and a better life as “invaders” and bringing “infestation”, turned a blind eye to, if not actively encouraged, white supremacists and overlooked the actions of brutal dictators throughout the world. These are unacceptable to me as an American.

I intend to vote for a Democrat in 2020 because I could not vote for a man whose rhetoric and actions do not reflect what this nation should be about.

Mr. President, to support your administration would be to be disloyal, both to the country I love and to the faith I hold.

There have been so many 50th anniversary observances in the past nine and a half years and they each remind us how turbulent, exciting and unpredictable a decade the 60s was. Think of it: we saw John Glenn’s first orbital flight, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the march on Washington, the assassinations of President Kennedy, Dr. Martin Luther King and Senator Robert Kennedy, the Northeast power blackout of 1965 and the six day war, Woodstock (and I have to add, the Red Sox’ Impossible Dream season of 1967) all within the span of 10 years. And behind all of these, the civil rights movement, the music of the Beatles, the anti-Vietnam war movement. It was an inspiring, scary, momentous and exhilarating decade that shaped the lives of so many of us.

As we approach the end of the current decade, it seems like we’ve saved the best fiftieth anniversary for last. For today, we observe the anniversary of the greatest adventure in the history of human beings: the first manned lunar landing.

Like everyone who remembers that July day, I have vivid memories of where I was sitting, what I was thinking and how the different members of my family, spanning three generations, reacted to the event. As with so many of those events, the memories of our personal connection with the event are often uppermost in our minds. But, this mission was about so much more than our own memories.

As I have watched and read the retrospectives of the Apollo 11 mission, one thought keeps coming back to me. The flight to the moon was so complex, so complicated, so technologically advanced and yet it was performed with computer technology that is dwarfed in scientific terms by the cell phone in the pocket of a 12 year old. Just imagine.

Each point of the mission was fraught with danger and uncertainty: achieving orbit in the first place, “trans-lunar injection” as the spacecraft left earth orbit, the docking with the lunar module, the separation of the LM from the spacecraft, the flight to the moon, the landing, the “moonwalk” itself, the lift-off from the moon, docking with the command module and the reentry and splashdown. So many times, the commentators told us that the mission depended on that moment. And each test was passed. When the lunar landing took place, there was less than 30 seconds of fuel remaining. When Apollo 11 returned to earth, it did so right on target. The measurements so precise and the planning so exact.

And, for me and so many others, the moment we remember best was the booming voice of Walter Cronkite who summed it all up by saying simply; “Man on the Moon!”

The real story is that behind the beauty, the astounding pictures and sounds, lay the intelligence and abilities of human beings. The foundation of any scientific advancement that was achieved by the findings of this flight and the others before and after it is the reality that we have been created with minds that are able to accomplish what seems to be impossible.

While sitting on the surface of the moon in the LM, astronaut Buzz Aldrin took a moment to perform the rite of communion and asked everyone listening to his voice to say words of thanks.

We should do that every day.

The first blessing we say during the daily Amida, the first among the list of petitions and statements of thanks to God focuses on our wisdom. “You had endowed the human being with wisdom and give us knowledge…”We ask God to continue to imbue us with such wisdom and remember that it is this wisdom which sets us apart from other creations and provides the hope for our collective future.

It is 50 years since a human being stepped on the moon for the first time. I personally believe that it was worth all of the expense and all of the dedication for so many reasons. And, I believe that we should continue that type of exploration because it is in our nature as human beings to stretch the horizons of our learning.

But, it is also necessary for us to look inward and to seriously consider why it is that a creation which can send a person to the moon, can understand the depths of the ocean and the intricacies of the human mind can not do what we have dreamed of as a species not just for the past 50 years but for so many beyond that.

Neil Armstrong took “one small step” and the world took a “giant leap”. If we could be inspired by the flight of Apollo 11 to take small steps towards mutual respect and concern for all, it would be a giant leap for all. The world stood together on July 20, 1969, celebrating this momentous accomplishment. May we see the day when all of us, all human beings, stand together as one once again.

I posted two postings on Facebook yesterday and today about how horrendous President Trump’s tweets of Sunday morning were. But, then this morning, he tweeted that the people whom he was speaking of “hate Israel”.

Here was my response today on Facebook:

While I am not by any means enamored with some of the comments made by the 4 members of congress whom Trump apparently has targeted, I am infuriated by his using; “They hate Israel” as a justification for his racist tweets. He is clearly trying to leverage the support of the American Jewish community and claiming it is out of concern for Israel that he makes statements like these.

A few months ago, I wrote a piece on my website entitled; “An Open Letter to President Trump” in which I said that I would certainly consider a candidate’s stand on Israel when I decide whom to support in 2020 but: “My vote will also be based on a candidate’s and party’s positions on health care, immigration policy, gun violence, tax policies, environmental concerns and civil rights for minorities of all types, to name a few. I will also consider whom I feel represents the United States best in the world community. These domestic issues are what motivate me as an American as I consider the future of my country.”

President Trump’s use of Israel in this way is, I believe, disingenuous as well as dangerous. As much as we are legitimately concerned about Israel’s future and our country’s policy in the Middle East, we can’t be swayed by statements like this to ignore how horrendous his racist rants and his alliances with the far right and White Nationalists are. In no way are those good for the Jews or good for America.

This past Shabbat, Shabbat Parashat Korach, I had the opportunity to deliver a d’var Torah at Beth Israel. The story, from the book of Numbers, focuses on the rebellion of Korach, Datan, Aviram, On and 250 others against the leadership of Moses and Aaron.

The story is fascinating in and of itself but there is one aspect of the story which continues to attract my attention. When Korach and his band approach Moses with their complaints, Moses says that the matter will be settled the next morning. The commentaries consider why Moses and God didn’t respond on the spot.

There are many answers that are given, some more fanciful than others. But, the answer that has always resonated most clearly with me is the idea that Moses wanted to give the rebels an opportunity to take back their words. He wanted to give them a chance to do teshuva, to repent.

If, in fact, that was the goal, it was partially successful. The man named On is never mentioned in the rest of the story and the rabbis imagine that either he himself decided to stay away or, as we read in a great aggada, his wife prevented him from joining the rebellion the next day by filling him with food and drink during the night so that he slept through the entire affair the next day.

I examined this story in more depth during my d’var Torah and related it to a sad chapter in American history which I had been reading about the past few weeks.

I love reading biographies of presidents and I have just finished the biography of Ulysses Grant by Ron Chernow. It’s a fascinating book about a very complex man who, by the end of his second term, had a reputation of concern and respect for all people, including blacks and Jews. He had brought more Jews into his administration than any previous president and had publicly stood up against Russia and Romania where Jews were being persecuted.

What was particularly surprising about his relations with the Jewish community is that in 1862, while he was in charge of the “department” of Tennessee, then General Grant had issued the most blatantly anti-Semitic order in American history: General Order no. 11 which called for the eviction of Jews from the entire area. Grant was furious about war profiteering and smuggling that had been taking place and, swayed by general anti-Semitic attitudes in the nation, issued the order that Jews “as a class” were required to leave immediately. The order was quickly revoked by President Lincoln and Grant rescinded his order shortly after. But, the fear that the order raised among Jews was not easily calmed and the chilling words resonated for many years.

You can read more about the order in Chernow’s book or in a great book called: “When General Grant Expelled the Jews” by Jonathan Sarna. There is so much more to say about this entire affair and it is fascinating to consider how Jewish leaders responded and, particularly how and why many Jews decided to support Grant in his bid for the presidency despite the order. Part of that decision might be attributable to Grant’s explanation of his act. Whether it was because of political expediency or spoken from the heart, Grant later said these words which resonate today: “It would never have been issued if it had not been telegraphed the moment it was penned and without any reflection.”

Think for a moment about those words.

And now, think about today.

If, in 1862, Grant was a victim of speaking without thinking twice, how much more is that a danger for us today?

In this era of instant communications, we constantly are telegraphing our thoughts without reflection in the perceived need to have our opinions or feelings “out there” before any others. And, it is more difficult than it was in Grant’s day to have any repentance we might feel accepted by our listeners or readers because those words, once written, are constantly brought up again and again thanks to the Internet. Nothing is forgotten. Nothing can be cancelled out. And, it also seems that no apology is enough even if it is backed up, as it was in Grant’s case, by action.

When Moses gave Korach time to “think it over”, it was an encouragement to realize that in his situation perhaps the words could be taken back. Somehow, in 1862, Grant’s statement of regret was enough.

Today, it is even easier to fall into the trap of speaking or writing without taking a moment or two to reflect. And it is certainly more difficult to take back our words when we do.

SPOILER ALERT: If you haven’t seen Toy Story 4 and intend to do so (and I would certainly recommend seeing it, please stop reading and come back after you have seen the film. I don’t want to spoil the ending for anyone.

We enjoyed Toy Story 4 tremendously. We’re big fans of the series of films and were really looking forward to seeing the fourth, and perhaps final, chapter in this remarkably creative story.

I thought the film dragged a bit in the middle but besides that, thought it was as imaginative and fun as the first three.

But, a few days after seeing it, the ending of the film continues to fascinate.

I know it will seem a bit ridiculous to some to put a lot of thought into a movie of this kind but as one of the young people whose reviews were included in a New York Times article said: “maybe the message (of the ending) …is important for older people.” For this older person , that 11 year old could not have said it better.

So, what happens at the end? In the end of the film, Woody, who was the favorite toy of Andy, the original Toy Story central human character, decides to leave the rest of the toys that now belong to Andy’s young friend, Bonnie, and become “a lost toy”, traveling with his girlfriend Bo Peep and some other toys. Woody had been the leader of this troop of toys and they depended upon him to lead the way. In Toy Story 4, Woody in fact initiates a new toy into the group and convinces him to relish in the fact that he is needed by his new little friend, Bonnie.

Woody’s decision to leave the group broke the hearts of many moviegoers, including I’m sure, most children. How could he break up the family? How could he follow his own heart rather than stay with the group?

While I had that same sense of sadness, there was a different emotion that took over when I saw this ending and yes, the ending made me cry.

Bo Peep urges Woody to recognize the fact that more than his friends needed him, he needed to be needed by them. But in a critical scene at the beginning of the movie, it was clear that Woody had been relegated to the closet and was not Bonnie’s favorite. His time had passed in many ways and Bo told him that it was time to be “for himself”.

I’m not suggesting at all that families should not stay together and that one should walk out on his or her family or group of friends. But, time does change relationships and at some point, it is important to realize that by defining ourselves by others’ expectations of our presence and our role could be selling ourselves short. At some point, we need to be ourselves and do “our thing” even if it means changing certain relationships. Again, I would never say this about family relationships where we should gladly push aside our own desires for the good of the family. But, to a greater or lesser extent, each of us must, in a small way, express our independence at some point and not leave all of our dreams behind. When Woody went away with Bo, my first reaction was “good for him”! Like every young adult who leaves home, Woody’s family was right behind him, recognizing it was time for him to take that step.

Finding the right balance between being there for others and living our dreams is a life long pursuit and at certain times in our lives, we need to consider what has happened to our pursuit of those dreams and what we can do to recapture them.

But, then a few days later, another thought came to mind. As I thought about Bo Peep beckoning and the family encouraging him to go by smiling and saying in essence: “We’ll be OK”, I realized that I recognized that scene as I had lived through it, in fact orchestrated it, many times.

Often, when a family gathers around a beloved family member who is near death, I, as most clergy will do, encourage the family members to “give permission” to their loved one to die. We tell them to loosen their grip on their loved one and allow the person to move to the next world. Especially if there is a belief in an existence for the soul after death, this will bring a small smile to the faces of the loved ones to imagine their beloved moving towards “infinity and beyond” holding the hand of one whom they had lost before.

With that image in mind, my perspective on the last scene changed completely and I think that, even though I didn’t realize it until a day or two later, that was where my tears came from.

As the credits rolled, they were interrupted by brief vignettes of life after this big transition. The final one showed Bonnie’s new favorite toy, Forky, meeting another toy like him with a look of love in his eyes. It was an unmistakeable statement that life for the family goes on and that the legacy Woody had left would inspire and guide those who came after him.

What a wonderful movie! And the ending led me to think about decisions I have made in my life and times of great emotion that I have had the privilege to experience with others.

Thank you to the writers of Toy Story 4. You really made us all think about real life and the transitions we all face.

                

         The Titanic hit an iceberg and sank on April 15, 1912. Five days later, Fenway Park, the oldest ballpark still in use in the major leagues opened its doors for the first time. 

         Fenway Park is a Boston institution. Like many other ballparks, it is an integral part of the atmosphere of the city. Located a couple of miles from the center of town, the Boston Common, Fenway is in bustling Kenmore Square, right near the campus of Boston University, several other colleges and many of Boston’s famed hospitals. Fenway’s beloved unique angles and features are evidence of the fact that the park was designed to fit into the geography of the streets which surround it. 

         A day at Fenway is not only about seeing a ball game. It is an experience of camaraderie and a celebration of a city and of New England. To see a game at the ballpark is to celebrate a heritage passed down from generation to generation of Bostonians and New Englanders.

         In 2012, Fenway Park celebrated its 100^thanniversary. The Red Sox offered an opportunity to fans to purchase a commemorative brick to be placed in the concourse within the stadium. My brother and I, the children of two loyal Red Sox fans, decided to purchase a plaque in memory of our parents. 

         We were sent a replica of the brick for display at home. The wording we chose celebrated our parents’ love of the Red Sox and the fact that my father, Manny Dobrusin, was always “being Manny”. That’s a reference to an ex-Red Sox player, Manny Ramirez, who was had so many idiosyncrasies that his acts were referred to as “Manny being Manny”. That phrase became popular only after our Dad died or we might have put it on his headstone as Manny Dobrusin was every bit as idiosyncratic in an endearing way. 

         So, last Wednesday, my cousin Dave and I met at Fenway Park to see a game together. It was the first time I had been at Fenway since 2011 and the first time Dave and I saw  a game there together since the 6^thgame of the 1975 World Series which was the most famous game ever played at Fenway Park.

         I had never seen the commemorative brick that we bought so I planned to look for it before the game. But, when the day came, I had forgotten all about it until just before game time when I suddenly remembered. 

         With the first pitch fast approaching, Dave and I hustled over to the Right Field concourse and found the section of the concourse where the brick had been placed. The only information we had was that it was in the “Dave Roberts” section, named for the Red Sox player whose stolen base in the 9^thinning of game 4 of the 2004 League Championship Series was the turning point in a tremendous comeback against the New York Yankees. Later that month, the Red Sox won their first World Series since 2004. 

         So, there we were, searching madly for a brick on the ground. People were walking all over the section of bricks and I had to ask several people to move so that I could look where they had been standing. The sun was bright and the engravings were a bit worn so it was not easy to read them. Time was passing and the first pitch was approaching. 

         Suddenly, I looked down and was stunned. 

         There, right underneath my feet was a brick that stopped me cold. It wasn’t our brick but it was one placed in honor of a man named A. Arthur Giddon who was chosen to be an honorary bat boy for the Red Sox on his 100^thbirthday. He had been a bat boy for the old Boston Braves in the 1920s and the Sox honored him by bringing him onto the field in tribute to his being a life long baseball fan. 

         It’s a beautiful story, written up in several newspapers including the New York Times. But what made it stunning was the fact that A. Arthur Giddon was my father’s first cousin. His mother and my maternal grandmother were sisters and while I never met his mother, my father’s Aunt Sadie, I had heard many stories about her including the fact that she used to walk, with her rabbi, to Braves Field on Saturday morning after services to watch the Braves play. It may be an apocryphal story but, as with all great family stories, it’s worth retelling.

         As I took pictures of the Giddon brick, I started to back up a bit to get a better view and then turned around and saw, right under my feet, our plaque. It was only a few bricks away, on the same line, in the same section. 

         Family is family. 

And members of a family have a unique bond which can transcend time and space.

         I’ve had reason over the past year to see many of my cousins, some for the first time in many years and the feeling of standing with them, talking with them, hugging them and laughing with them has been so refreshing since we have no close family in Ann Arbor. 

Even after many years, family is family.

A few years ago, my mother-in-law came to visit us in Ann Arbor for the first time since we adopted our dog, Sami. Sami loves everyone but the minute my mother-in-law walked in the house, Sami behaved like she had never done before, not only greeting her, but sitting beside her and looking right into her eyes.

Even our faithful pup knows that family is family.

         No one on the Red Sox staff knew that the Giddons and the Dobrusins were mishpacha but I have to thank them for placing the bricks right near each other and for giving me a moment to reflect once again on the magic of family.

   In memory, and even more so, in life, family is magical. 

I posted this on facebook this morning:

Packing to go away overnight and made sure to pack my toothbrush and toothpaste and other toiletries. It made me think again. I’m privileged to be able to buy these items to stay healthy. But, staying healthy under someone else’s care is a right not a privilege. How can this nation be so cruel and heartless to deny toothbrushes and soap and clean diapers to little children and babies under our supervision? This is despicable and has to stop.

I can not adequately convey the disgust that I feel when I read the accounts that are coming out of these “detention centers”. I don’t care what words are used to describe them or any comparisons, accurate or otherwise, which are made. I only care about the fact that this is an absolute abomination for the United States.

The immigration issue is not a simple one. Traveling to the border back in November, I saw a lot of different sides to the issue. But one part of the entire situation is quite simple: denying children- or adults for that matter- the bare necessities of cleanliness and personal care is horrendous and heartbreaking.

This has to stop.

The Torah portion which we read this coming Shabbat, Shelach Lecha, tells the story of the 12 scouts sent by Moses to scout out the land of Canaan and report back to the people on how beautiful it is.

The entire mission turns into a disaster as the scouts return with glowing reports of the beauty of the land but 10 of them make it clear that the land is inhospitable and could not possibly be conquered by the Hebrews. Upon hearing the report, the people side with the 10, against Joshua, Caleb, Moses, Aaron and God and express a strong desire to return to Egypt.

The sins of rejecting the land and expressing a lack of faith in God and in themselves results in God’s decision that this generation would not enter the land but would wander in the desert for 40 years.

The story is fascinating especially when read with the rabbinic commentaries. It becomes, for many commentators, a story about self-image and self-respect. It becomes a story about the leadership decisions of Moses and Aaron and the qualities of the land itself. Just how serious these commentaries are taken is reflected in the fact that it is one of the only stories from the Torah in which midrashei aggada, commentaries on a narrative in the Torah, are found in one place in the Talmud as the entire story is interpreted verse by verse in the middle of a discussion on another subject in the Talmudic Tractate of Sotah.

So, it’s a great story with many serious implications.

But, I want to look at the story a bit differently here. A few years ago, I gave a much more “playful” sermon on Parashat Shelach Lecha, taking a break from the more serious issues to talk about summer vacations. It occurred to me that we could learn five important lessons about vacations from the text and the commentaries of this parasha.

So, as we enter vacation season, here are the five lessons:

Lesson number 1: The story begins with the words Shelach Lecha. God says to Moses: Shelach Lecha, “You send scouts”. The word Lecha is superfluous. It is unnecessary in the Hebrew. The commentaries say that it implies that the sending of the scouts was for Moses’ benefit. Do this, says God, for your benefit.

That is the first point about vacations. You deserve them. Take time away for your benefit. Enjoy them and don’t feel guilty.

Second point: The Torah says that the scouts came up to the land as a group but then, curiously, it says, that “he” went to Hebron. While it is easy to conceive of the “he” in the singular as meaning “the group”, many of the rabbis say that the singular refers to Caleb, one of the 2 loyal scouts. The tradition is that he, Caleb, broke away from the group which he sensed was going to undermine the conquest of the land and went alone to Hebron to pray at the grave of the Patriarchs hoping that they would protect him.

It’s a great story and it can teach us that all of the planning of our trips shouldn’t prevent us from making spur of the moment decisions to break away from a planned itinerary to do something a bit “out of the box”. A few years ago, when our family took a trip to South Dakota, we were sitting in a restaurant before doing what we had planned for the afternoon when our waitress casually mentioned that it was only a 2 hour drive to Devil’s Tower in Wyoming. How could we resist? Every plan we might have had for that afternoon disappeared and off we went to see this fantastic place, so central to my favorite movie: Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It was one of the highlights of the trip.

Lesson 2: Don’t stick to the planned script. Break away from your plans and follow your instincts.

In the Torah story, the spies come back and say: “It is a land which devours its inhabitants.” According to the commentaries, the scouts say that every town that they went to was having a funeral when they got there. God was furious at this because, say the rabbis, God had meant this all for good and they had interpreted it as a negative. God had arranged to have a leading figure in each town they went to die just before their arrival so that they could scout surreptitiously while everyone else was at the funeral.

Regardless of what you think of that story, it can teach us a very basic lesson. If something happens to disrupt your trip (hopefully something less catastrophic of course), look at it as the possibility of an adventure rather than complain about it. This takes tremendous patience but being re-routed or getting lost may give you a great story to tell

I still remember a trip we took when we were kids. My father took a wrong turn off a highway and we ended up in a small town in upstate New York. As he was trying to find his way back to the highway, my father suddenly gasped and slammed on the brakes. He pointed to a sign on a building nearby which said: “Dobrusin real estate agency”. My father just was elated as it led to more attempts to unravel our family history when we able later on to contact this person and try to piece together the connection.

Lesson #3: Don’t begrudge the minor (or more major) interruptions to your trip. Sometimes, great things can come from them.

Next, when the scouts return, they bring back a huge bunch of grapes (you’ve seen that image most likely on Carmel wine bottles or the Israel Tourist Bureau).

So lesson #4: Bring back souvenirs!

In addition to whatever we bought in overpriced gift shops, I always managed to bring back simpler souvenirs: newspapers, menus, maps etc. They are great reminders of where you were and can bring back the spirit of a trip. Now, as we are going through some initial steps at downsizing (giving away or throwing away clutter), it is those souvenirs which I am finding it hardest to part with because they remind me of great days of traveling together as a family.

Finally, in the Haftarah reading for this week, Joshua sends scouts to Jericho and the entire mission has an air of secrecy about it. He learned his lesson from the disastrous mission of the 12 scouts. Moses apparently charges the scouts in public with their mission and they report back to the people in public. This was a horrible mistake as mob psychology took over.

So, learn from this that you should resist any temptation to gather everyone you’ve ever known to tell them about your great trip at great length. In all likelihood, that will be a disaster. Just smile and say; “It was great, you should go there and see for yourself”. That will prevent any mass rebellions among friends and family.

This is a great parasha with so many critical things to consider.

But, on this beautiful Michigan summer morning, it’s worth thinking about one of the simple pleasures of life: the summer vacation and realizing that the Torah can teach us about that too.

Nesiah Tovah! Happy journeys!

There are many issues that are on my mind these days. From the terribly restrictive abortion laws being passed in so many states to the increasing threat of anti-Semitism in Germany and throughout Europe to the overwhelming concerns of climate change, there is so much to think about and so much to speak out about.

And I have done and will continue to do that.

But, this morning, there is something else on my mind.

It has to do with a school building that I have seen literally thousands of times but never entered.

The school is called the Edward Devotion school and it is located on Harvard Street in Brookline, Massachusetts. The reason that I have seen it thousands of times is that it is located directly across the street from the synagogue I grew up in and the Hebrew School I attended five days a week during elementary school and beyond.

Now, it turns out that the person for whom the school was named, Edward Devotion, owned a slave in the 18th century and a decision has been made to change the name of the school.

Changing the names of schools or other facilities because of the history of the person for whom it is named is a rather controversial issue. But, in this particular case and for the purpose of this piece, I will push aside that aspect of the discussion and focus instead on the other question facing Brookline’s decision makers. Assuming the name is changed, what will it be changed to?

There have been several suggestions made for a new name for the Devotion School and among those, there is one that is fascinating to me and, while I don’t live in Brookline and there have no real say in the matter, I would vote for the school to be named after this individual.

Her name was Ethel Weiss.

Who is Ethel Weiss, you ask? I have written about her on several occasions and dedicated a few paragraphs of my book to tell her story. But, it deserves some elaboration.

Ethel Weiss died a few years ago at age 101. Back in the 40s, she and her husband opened a small candy and toy story across the side street from the Devotion School. The store, Irving’s, was a focal point of the community, especially for the kids from Devotion School and Kehillath Israel Hebrew School until it closed after Ethel’s death. Irving’s was such a constant part of our lives.

The store was small, just a proverbial hole in the wall kind of establishment selling penny candy, soda, snack items, greeting cards and simple toys. But, Ethel’s love of her customers, particularly the children, was so remarkable that anyone who frequented Irving’s will never forget it.

Ethel showed patience and care for each customer. She reinforced the students’ math skills while helping them make change. She knew so many by name and encouraged them when they had had bad days. She loved her work and loved her store and all that it represented in the community.

And, she had a phenomenal memory.

When I stopped by Irving’s with a group of friends as we toured Brookline on a break from our rabbinical convention during the 90’s, she recognized me and stunned me and my friends by calling me by my last name. It had been over 25 years since I had made my daily visit to Irving’s to buy a snack before Hebrew School but she knew my family from the synagogue and connected me with them with ease.

Several years later, I brought my own kids into Irving’s to buy something and to stand with them in this place that had meant so much to me.

What makes a place special?

A place is special when it is a place where you feel honored, respected and cared for. A place is special when it finds a spot in your memory that can’t be swept away.

Irving’s was that kind of place for me and Ethel was what Irving’s was all about.

So you wouldn’t think that this is only this writer reminiscing about his lost youth, take a look at this video. Ethel was featured a few years back on a national news program: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnzF2Rjtje8

In the long run, naming a school after a woman who ran a candy store may not make the most sense. But, naming a school after a woman who personified love, respect for kids and an amazing energy and dedication to those who counted on her may in fact make perfect sense.

I assume the school will not be named for Ethel Weiss.

But, I hope the powers that be in the town of Brookline will find a significant place to name after her. But, one way or the other, she will hold a place in the hearts of thousands of grown up kids.

May her memory be for a blessing.