“RABBI’S MUSINGS (& AMUSINGS)”
Erev Shabbos Kodesh parshas Shelach
24 Sivan 5781/June 4, 2021
Mevorchim Chodesh Tamuz
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לרפואה שלימה נטע יצחק בן רחל
A CROOKED LETTER
When anyone asked “why” in her
presence, my Bubby, Rebbitzin Fruma (Frances) Kohn would repeat the quip, “Why
is a crooked letter!” However, with her European accented English it would come
across as “Vy is a crooked letter.” The irony and G-d’s humor was that for the last
decade of her life, Vy was the name of Bubby’s Latin-American caretaker. Every
time I went to visit Bubby and she called Vy I had to restrain myself from
repeating the quote I heard from her so often…
In retrospect I have come to realize
that the humorous quote is actually quite profound. My Bubby was part of a generation
who did not have the luxury and could not afford to ask why (or vy).
Bubby grew up in a small Polish village
called Tarnogrod. She recounted that she had a wonderful childhood, and her family
was somewhat wealthy, which was recognizable by the fact that they were one of
the few homes in their town to have indoor plumbing. But then the dark clouds
of World War Two rolled in. Her family escaped the Nazi massacre of their village
but eventually were deported to Siberia by the Russians. The only one to avoid
that fate was her one married sister who would send care packages to the rest
of the family. That ended when the Nazis killed her sister, brother-in-law, and
their infant child.
After eighteen months in Siberia the
family was released. They traveled southwest and ended up in Samarkand in
Uzbekistan. There Bubby met my Zeide, married and had their first child, my Uncle
Shmuel. When the war finally ended, they ended up in Paris and from there they
came to the United States.
When she would recount some of her
experiences from those dark and painful years, Bubby would note that she sometimes
felt like she was talking about someone else’s life. It was hard to imagine
that she had endured and survived those terrible experiences.
On one occasion when I was in
graduate school pursuing my master’s in social work, I was paired up with fellow
students to discuss our family background and how and when our ancestors
arrived in America. I was speaking about my Bubby and Zeide and referred to their
coming to America after the war. One student asked me, “You mentioned the war.
Would that be the Civil War, Korea, or Vietnam?” I apologized for my lack of
clarity and explained that among Jews we take it for granted that when anyone
refers to “the war” it’s referring to the Holocaust and World War II when our
people were targeted for merciless and baseless genocide.
I read an article a few years ago in
which the Novominsker Rebbe discussed the need to teach about the Holocaust
from a Torah perspective in our yeshivos. The rebbe noted that for the first
decades after the war those lessons were not included in the yeshiva curriculum
because it was too raw and too painful. At that point, the mission of the Torah
world was to rise from the ashes and to look ahead with confidence at the formidable
task of rebuilding and thriving. They could not afford to dwell on the unbearable
pain of what had occurred.
However, as the years and decades wore
on, and the number of living survivors continues to wane, we have an obligation
to preserve the dark memories of what happened. We have to give our children a framework
and perspective to understand the judgement of Hashem and to remember the calamitous
events that occurred. We must speak of the heroism of the faithful and the
uncanny mesiras nefesh to preserve mitzvos under the worst of circumstances.
Those lessons must be preserved now before the opportunity is lost. Years ago,
we could not afford to speak about it. But now we cannot afford not to.
A month ago, on Lag Baomer, we heard
about the terrible tragedy that occurred in Meron with the tragic death of 45
precious Jews. One of those 45 was Donny Morris. Anyone who has attended Camp
Dora Golding the last few summers is well acquainted with Donny’s radiant smile,
easygoing personality, and excitement for davening and Torah learning.
At her son’s funeral Donny’s mother,
Mrs. Mirlana Morris, eulogized him with tears in her eyes: “I have so many
questions, but so few answers.” She then added, “But what I know for sure is that
you were loved by so many. The impact you had on hundreds is remarkable. Daddy
and I couldn’t be prouder to call you, our son.”
Her painful yet powerful words
contain what has often been the cry of our people. So many questions and so few
answers. Yet, we are so proud of our mission and accomplishments, and know that
our impact has changed the world.
Next week, 30 Sivan, our family
marks Bubby’s second yartzeit. It’s an appropriate time to remind ourselves that
although we cannot know the Vys of the world we remain faithful to our destiny,
knowing that it is the only hope to straighten all that’s crooked.
Shabbat Shalom & Good Shabbos,
R’ Dani and Chani Staum