Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
The Raven

"At the end of forty days, Noah opened the window of the ark which he had made-- And he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth." (Gen. 8:6-7)
Given that the choices a person makes are often reflections of his or herself, even more-so when resources are unlimited (and within the context of the story Noah had animals of every kind in his ark), Noah's choice of sending the raven can be considered an an entry into Noah's immediate post-flood psyche.
The Midrash (Gen. Rabbah 33:5) confirms the semiotic significance of the raven quoting psalms, "He sent darkness, and it was dark." (Ps. 105:28) As an extension of himself, Noah chose a bird that would be at home in the scenes of horrific catastrophe. It is not hard to imagine the depression that being in a coffin of a boat with the world collapsing around him would create or the nightmares that he would have been continually facing. In fact, Yalkut Shemoni reports that upon being sent out, the raven found a carcass on one of the mountains and never returned to the boat (diverging from the text of the Torah). This symbolically presents a possible route for Noah, or one that he indeed psychologically followed. Coming out of the ark, his mind resting on all of the death around him made him unable to go on in the world. In fact, given his ignominious ending in the story, we wonder if the psychological state represented by the raven completely won out.
This psychological state can be further understood through the conversation that Noah had with the raven in the Midrash (Gen. Rabbah 33:5)-- the raven playing the darker part of Noah's psychology. We can imagine Noah having both sides of this conversation, a madman blurring the lines of his own consciousness and the world around him.
R. Yudan said in the name of R. Yehudah bar. R. Simon, "It (the raven) began to argue with him: ' Of all the birds that you have here You send none but me!’
And Noah replies, "What need then has the world of you? ' he retorted; 'For food? For a sacrifice?’ (Gen. Rabbah 33:5) implying of course, that he is fit for neither.
True, God saved him, but why did God send him into the unknown? What good was he? Did a God who valued his righteousness and pureness of heart expect him to fashion a world of righteousness and pureness of heart but a world also willing to accept all of this death as his God just did? Would he get any guidance how to balance all this?
Noah eventually moves away from the darkness and moves to the more pleasant symbol of the tranquil dove, sending it out not once, but twice-- persistence sometimes being necessary when trying to make lightness and goodness dominate your motivations. In the Midrash, the dove also reminds Noah of another side of his psyche (again, from the Yalkut Sheomi Noach) that his will and preferences are worth less than the will and preferences of God. The dove or the other part of his psyche says, "I would rather have this olive branch, that which is bitter, from the hand of God than something sweet from your hand."
The raven is not forever doomed to the negative images that are associated with it-- and in the Talmud there are Cassandra-ish associations (Gittin 45a), predicting doom, being ignored (but being right). The Midrash also talks about the awful way that the raven feeds it's children (from its own refuse) (Vayikra Rabba 19:1). But the ravens eventually textually emerge in I Kings 17:6 to become the feeders of Elijah, as he hides from Ahav, after Elijah pronounces a drought on the land. This future forces Noah in the midrash to have to rescind his "What good are you?" condemnation of ravens as reported in Gen. Rabbah 33:5. From this we can learn the Midrashic perspective that our purpose on earth is not always immediately apparent and furthermore that darkness can help to nourish.
My cousin Danielle suggested an entirely different possibility, one that I had not imagined: That Noah sent out a raven because the raven had a shrill call, as opposed to other birds. The raven would be best to alert survivors of the flood that other life still existed, like a fog horn or a shout in a mine.
Picture of Raven from: http://www.jrcompton.com/photos/The_Birds/J/West/_JR30131-raven-close.jpg
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
What one can get on Ebay: Jacob Sonderling and the German Jews in WWI

This picture was brought in by Joel Silberstein, a collector, historian, congregational secretary and Cohen at the BRJC. Joel, who was born in Germany and got out before World War II, often speaks of how the Jews were courteously treated in Germany and the corresponding positive Jewish attitude towards Germany during WWI and after the war. Joel's private collection of curiousities contains post cards and other print material that show Jews proud of their German heritage and demonstrate how the Germans, at that time, treated the Jews fairly as equals. Of course, Joel would insist, some of that was just surface pleasantry and that deep down there was resentment and antipathy; but at times, such as that which is depicted here, certain German institutions seemed to accommodate Jews.
This is a picture of a Jewish prayer service out in the field. One of the amazing things about, of course, is that this occurred during World War 1, in Germany. This service took place, as stated here, by order of the Army of His Magesty the German Emperor on 29/30 September 1914 which corresponds to the 10 of Tishre, 5675-- Yom Kippur. The field Rabbi was Dr. Sonderling, in Hamburg.
I am not sure what the formal arrangement was here. I am not sure if the man standing in front of Dr. Sonderling (who I assume is the man in front) was reading Torah or davenning or giving a dvar Torah. Perhaps this formation is some kind of military ritual? If anyone knows, it would be interesting to hear. If he was reading Torah, its curious that there is no one else next to him (gabbaim) and if he is davenning, perhaps he is doing so in the German Reform style instead of as many do today, facing the same way as the congregation.

Looking for more information about Dr. Sonderling, I began to learn what a remarkable life he led and what kind of impact he had in the Jewish world. I was particularly interested in how broadly he approached his Jewish life, becoming involved in scholarship, communal affairs, and even in cultural patronage.
While still in Germany, he had a synagogue in Hamburg, serving in the New Dammtor Synagogue with Dr. David Leimdorfer. He had originally worked in the Neustadt district of Hamburg starting in 1908.
According to one site (see citations below): "He was army rabbi during the First World War and after the war described the horror. He emigrated to the USA in 1921. A synagogue attender later related that the sermons of both preachers were well structured and were masterpieces of oratory. Many members of the Synagogue Society also attended the New Dammtor Synagogue to experience these sermons."
He eventually made his way to America and served as the Rabbi at Temple Beth Israel, in Rhode Island, installed around Oct. 3rd, 1929. He seemed to have been loved and revered in the Reform movement. Sometime after Rhode Island, he made his way to Los Angeles where he served at the Temple of Fairfax. There, he commissioned music to be written by Ernst Toch (the rabbi wrote the libretto), which resulted in the Cantata of the Bitter Herb. He also wrote the text for Schoenberg's Kol Nidre. (see links below if you would like to hear some of this)
Sonderling was mentioned in a commencement speech in 2004 by Alfred Gottschalk at HUC-JIR in Los Angeles:
Sondering had "a small congregation of German refugees in the Fairfax district of Los Angeles.... He died on Simchas Torah and was born on Simchas Torah some 93 years apart, hardly a coincidence..... One day, (towards the end of his career as Rabbi of Fairfax Temple, which eventually was sold with the proceeds coming to support the fledgling new campus of the Hebrew Union College going up at the University of Southern Calimfornia) Sonderling arrived at the Appian way campus, huffing and puffing his way up our sole staircase. He had in his arms a thin tall scroll wrapped in an antique frayed Torah cover. I met him as he reached the top of the stairs and he said, "This scroll it was in my ark for over forty years. Take it! Now it is yours! I give it to the college to preserve."
It was a parchment scroll of the prophets. A rarity. In the first world war Rabbi Sonderling served in Kaiser Wilhelm's army on the eastern front. He was a Jewish Chaplain and moved with the troops, one night as the army was pushing eastward, Sonderling realized he was in a shtetl. There was a light on in the small synagogue he was passing in his vehicle. He ordered hsi driver to stop. Sonderling entered the synagogue. In a corner in the dim light he saw a man cowering. Sonderling approached him and said, "Ich bin oycha yid was tust du hier is a sakanah nfashot."
The man replied, "Ich bin der shames von der shiel und wir hoben a sefer im open hakodsh."
Sonderling said, "Ich bin a rav und ich will sein shomer for seder" I am a rabbi and will become guardian of the scroll in your stead.
The Shames handed it to him carefully. Sonderling took the scroll and said to the shammes, "Yetzt loif." Run, it's dangerous here.
He once remarked, "The seminary made me a rabbi. The university made me a doctor. But my experience in Eastern Europe made me a Jew."
On Sonderling and music:
(www.jewishjournal.com/home/preview.php?id=8215)
(www.jewish-theatre.com/visitor/article_display.aspx?articleID=897)
If you want to hear the Schoenberg Kol Nidre, the Schoenberg Center has made some original recordings, with Schoenberg's voice available here: http://www.schoenberg.at/6_archiv/voice/voice2_e.htm
Gottschalk's commencement speech:
http://www.huc.edu/newspubs/GradSpeeches/2004/Gottschalk%20Ordination%20LA%202004.pdf
On Sonderling in Hamburg:
(http://www1.uni-hamburg.de/rz3a035//1vonmellepark.html)that documents old German synagogues
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Who we are: Simon Gleyzerman

These are notes from a conversation that I had with one of our gabbaiim, Simon Gleyzerman. Simon is known for his dependability and his wonderful smile. He comes Shabbas mornings to open the doors and set up the Torahs. Even when it is raining and his knee is sore, Simon makes his way to shul and then leads the congregation in Psuke d'zimra. Sometimes you can see him coming, walking decidedly from blocks away because of his distinct gray suit and hat. Simon didn't know Hebrew when he came to America in 1990, but now he davens with incredible spirit.
He said, "It was a hard life, we didn't know about the religion. They (the Russians) said that it is not right to believe in Him (he points to the sky). Everything there was athiestic. And they wanted to bring us to communism. But their philosophy was only talk. In theory, it might have been okay, but in practice it was difficult. It seemed that they only wanted us to work for nothing. Doing for nothing, that's what it was like. True, education was free. Anything that I would do, it had to be done for the collective. If I was a communist, I have to be first a communist-- not a Jew. The head of the community kept everything away so you couldn't be rich-- they tried to make everyone equal.
But if you were a Jew they would remind you that you were a Jew. Back then, they meant this as a bad thing, but now I thank them for reminding me.
I was the same people as the other people around. If they hear that I am a Jew they would say, 'You are a Jew, but you're a good man.'
I always though that Jews were smart. They have education. They are patient, polite and intelligent. Jews try and do the right thing.
I was born in Yampol Vinetzia, near the river Dnester on the border of the Ukraine and Moldova. I came to America when I was 53, in 1990. Without language, without any English. No Hebrew. For my grandson, we did a bris. He was 9 or 10 years old. It was one of the best days of my life.
Why did I come to America? My wife has a sister here who came in 1979.
Why I leave Russia? Because at this time everything was perestroika. There used to be incredible planted grapes everywhere and during perestroika, they cut the grapes. All the good things, they broke. Perestroika was breaking my heart.
I learned Hebrew when I came to Boro Park. They educated me at the center to learn English and there was also lessons on Jewish culture. The teacher started to teach us the aleph beis and the brachot of Shabbas. He did Shema Yisrael. He translated into Russian, but it would go in one ear and out the other.
So finally, my wife had a teacher from Russian who knew Hebrew from Leningrad and she had a teacher that would explain Alef Beis to the end. Then I would do birkat hamazon, the whole thing, and that really helped.
I was born in 1937. It was very bad time in Ukraine. A lot of people died. Stalin killed a lot of people. 10,000,000 died. The Ukraine had been the best place to grow up. There was everything good about it. Everything was going good. But Stalin made it so that there was nothing to eat.
I was 4 years old when my parents were killed and my sister was 13. My father and my brother went away when the war started, because they were in the military. My mom and my sister and me tried to go away from the war. The Germans came, they picked up all the Jews that were around-- this was 40 kilometers of my town. We couldn't go away. They put all the people together. 300 or more people, I don't know. They caught us in the middle of the town. They took all the Jews from all the houses. They took us out and my mom pushed us and told us to run away. They started to go to the cemetery. She pushed us and nobody caught us. We were in Tomashpol. She said go away, I go to work. But they killed her. There is a memory stone where my mom was killed. My sister took me to the town I was born, to Yampol, to my aunt. They had 5 children.
My aunt had a smaller one years boy, then me, he was three, and her daughter was-- she was a kamsamol, they said-- and they killed her. She had been married and she had child, but they didn't kill the child. She stayed with my aunt. She had one foot longer than the other. She was eventually married, she had two sons. The sons and her husband are here in Brooklyn, but I don't have contact with them. Riya Brenner, maybe, I don't know. They were Golger family. The father's name was Malamud.
My cousin used to take water from the mountains and he would bring the water. That was how he would make a living. People would pay him for the water. But the anti-semites used to take it.
When I was four, I was with my sister and she would go and work for people for food. She needed more money. I cried for 6 months. And after that I set to work. I would look in the garbage on the sidewalk and I would go and look for food with other kids. They would make potatoes and they would take off the potatoes and I bring the covers (peels) of the potatoes and my aunt she would make soup. Mostly people would throw away everything that is bitter and I would find it, but it was no good.
There were Italian soliders and Romanian soliders in this town where we stayed. The Germans went away. When the Italian soliders would eat, after what was left they would give for the chidlren. We have cans, we make handles and we go and they give us the soup or macaroni.
The soliders would throw cigartte butts and they would teach me to smoke when I was 5 years old. When my daughter was married, I stopped.
Two years, in 1944 the war was away from our town and the schools started working again. I started going to the school from September until when it got cold, when there was the frost from the cold. I didn't go to school, because I didn't have any shoes.
I remember that every once in a while, I would go out without my shoes and skate.
Simon's message for Yom Kippur--
Be patient to each other, forgiving each other and we have to keep in life our Temple. We have to raise the children the right way. And it is hard to bring them to that. I want to see our Temple in life. This is the way. You have to be full with laughing, with happiness and bar mitzvah and bat mitzvah with children. We have to raise a good community.
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