Monday, May 01, 2006

Back to Life?

This past Shabbos, I went on a small NCSY Shabbaton. It was my first volunteer/organizational work in quite awhile. And it felt really nice to be back in a "people" role. All NCSY politics aside for now, it was fun having a purpose to a Shabbos beyond my own growth. It was a relaxed atmosphere, the kids were fun, and I'll even admit to socially appreciating the opportunity just to meet a few new peers in my age bracket.

But a wanted to share an additional part of the story, a piece that only one of the other kids shared in.

This past week, Yom Hashoah was commemorated. It's a time to remember the barbarism of the Holocaust, but also all travesties of human behavior, past and present. Soviet Russia was just another sad moment in the course of human history. Jews, among many other peoples, were persecuted for their differences. The Soviet government flexed its very powerful muscles against any group that was capable of fragmenting communist unity, and the Jewish religion suffered deeply as a result. Teaching Judaism become intolerable and practicing it became stifling. The Soviets were nearly successful in their attempts to snuff out all remnants of Jewish life, using the heavy hand of the totalitarian regime to deadly result.

There was one Jewish man, in his mid 50's, who was no different than the rest. His traditions and religion had been ripped away from him, and by this point in his life, he knew almost nothing of his spiritual inheritance. He didn't practice any aspects of the religion, and barely identified as Jewish. But one Rabbi, a forgotten profession in those parts, wouldn't let him slide into oblivion. One day, this Rabbi slipped him a piece of paper, a small sheet that had been ripped out of a worn book. It was the Kaddish, the prayer for the deceased, and the Rabbi beseeched this man that he do his best to find a Minyan to pray with once a year to commemorate the Yahrtzeits of his ancestors.

Fast forward twenty years. The man has made his way to America, to quiet suburbia, where he need not choose between his freedom and his principles. But communist Russia has taken its toll, and he still remains largely ignorant of his Jewish heritage. However, every year he has made it to a synagogue, where he pulls out a yellowed piece of paper, carefully creased and placed in his wallet, and recites the Kaddish prayer.

But this year, he shows up at the synagogue, but its doors are locked. This shul doesn't have a Minyan on Shabbos afternoon, the day his Yahrtzeit fell out this year. But before he leaves, he is admitted to the shul, by a child of 15 years. His luck has won once again- a group of students is holding a prayer service in the sanctuary and he is invited to join and say his Kaddish. He opens his wallet, and pulls out a crumbling piece of paper, with the words of the Kaddish carefully typed out in Russian, without any Hebrew. He gently unfolds the fraying prayer, and utters the timeless prayer, "Yisgadel V'Yisgadesh..."

That was the story of the elder gentleman davening behind me at the Shabbaton this weekend.

Comments:
Beautiful story. It gave me chills to read it.
 
agreed - beautiful story, Josh. the sefardim this semester love to say the kaddish more than any other jewish group i've ever met. it has a hallowing effect every time on me that screams/cries/comforts..reminds. ki hu hakol yachol.. to find this same effect in others is a wonderous thing.
 
Touching stories like this keeps the fire fueled to continue in the tradition of our ancestors... in this time that we live in where it has never before in history been easier to be a free-practicing jew....

Thank you for sharing, Josh. And I am also glad you enjoy things as fulfilling as this.

You do mention NCSY politics, so whats your beef ;-)
 
it's such a zechus on your part that you were standing in front of this amazing person, and were told his story.

it reminds me of two things -the first is that you never know what small action on your part can lead to. the second is that i know someone who, as an older man, lost his wife and began going to shul to say kaddish for her, a place he had previously reserved only for yom kippur. when the year of aveilus ended, he felt he could stop going, except for one thing -he got used to going to shul. he became friends with the frum members. he liked the kiddush they served on shabbos. so he kept going -not every day, but he started going to classes, began keeping shabbos, and is now remarried to a very nice frum woman.

you never know what'll light a spark:)
 
Very emotional, good job.
 
Sho-ana, Sh, EC, and SFM - Thanks for your feedback, I'm glad you benefitted from the story.

DG - It is amazing how fast we run to test the waters "out there," when we have so much to learn about our traditions ourselves. Sometimes we just don't find that person, that inspiration, that lets us open up, and ask the questions and answers that we need. But blogging seems to be that outlet for me. So hopefully it'll be my Jewish mark that can never be erased.

FG - Unfortunately, so many people view Blatt Gemara as the only way for guys to connect to Yiddishkeit (and I suppose Tehillim for girls). But sometimes we don't take the time to just read stories and inspire ourselves. I don't think many children are turned on to the rational. They like to see the faith, the emotional satisfaction. That's what will drive them to continue the tradition. But it may surprise you that this is partially my beef with NCSY. It's a bit of an emotional brain wash, and lacks on the content. But I agree with the fundamental, give them a nibble, and they'll come back for a bite.

OK - I hope my whole life can carry that spark. I've never been into formal education, but interacting with those around me, and hopefully making an impact, that's what keeps me going.
 
Y - Sefardim have an amazing faith. I feel that even the most secular Sefardi has more Emunah than I do.
 
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