Temple Emanuel Religious School: The Year In Review

Each year, we create a video with pictures from the past year of Religious School.  I wish that we could go week by week, highlighting every class.  Our theme this year was - Hineini: Here I Am!  I hope that you enjoy this look at the year that was and have a great summer.  We look forward to seeing Religious School students and families throughout the summer and again next fall!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrnsjGyLdx4&feature=em-upload_owner

LITTLE TORAH IN SPACE - The Rest of the Story

This Shabbat, Feb. 1, 2013, marked the 10th year since the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster.  Ilan Ramon z"l was the payload specialist on this fated mission.  He was not only an Israeli hero, but also a hero of the Jewish people.  

Ilan Ramon was the subject of my Friday night sermon.  I had the honor of speaking about him and telling a modern midrash composed a decade ago by Cantor Melanie Fine which I had saved among my files.  The central idea of this story links the Torah that Ramon brought into space with the history of our people.  It reminds us that we are blessed to carry Torah wherever we go, in times of celebration as well as in times of horror.

As I prepared to speak this Shabbat, I happened across another file.  This one contained a sermon I had delivered roughly 6 years ago at the start of 2007.   It is the next step in the story of Ilan Ramon and Torahs in space.  Whether or not you were at services then or at services last night, I encourage you to read on.  As Paul Harvey would say, here is "the rest of the story..."

 

Tonight, I want to share with you a beautiful story – a true story, a Jewish story – from this past year (2006).  This is about a little Torah that went into outer space.  It was not the first Torah that left the earth’s atmosphere.  That Torah, also a little miniature Torah, was brought into space by Israel’s first astronaut Ilan Ramon.  Ilan was part of the seven-member crew of the Space Shuttle Columbia.  They traveled into space almost three years ago but did not return to earth safely, their mission ending tragically when Columbia broke apart while reentering the atmosphere.

My story tonight is about another little Torah, the second Torah to go into space, and it belongs to a dear friend of my wife’s family, and someone whom Michal and I knew quite well during our years as students in Cincinnati.  Even though he was a professor and many years our senior, we spent lots of time with him and his wife over the years.  What was also nice was that we counted his children among our closer friends in Ohio.

His name is Henry, Henry Fenichel.

A few facts about Henry...  First, Henry is a very happy man.  He is the type of person who you just can’t help liking; always smiling, always thoughtful, always kind.  When we knew Henry, he had fiery red hair – as the years passed, it has turned grey.  For decades he taught physics courses at the University of Cincinnati.  His specialty is optics and he would do cool things with light including creating holograms, a trick that used to wow his students.

But Henry had a deeper story and, from time to time, he would share bits and pieces of it.  He was born into a Jewish family in the Netherlands.  When he was in preschool, he was forced to wear a yellow star by Nazis marking him, as it did so many others, for ridicule, isolation, and eventually death.  His story has many parallels to Anne Frank’s story – he was hidden as a 2-year-old, his father died at Auschwitz.  Luckily, Henry’s fate was different.  He survived the Bergen Belsen concentration camp, escaping death together with his mother on a difficult, 10-day train ride to British Palestine in what was called "Transport 222." This unique exchange of Germans for Dutch Jews was his lifeline.

Until recent years, though, Henry was reluctant to speak in any detail about this side of his story.  Gradually, he came to the understanding of the importance of being a personal witness.

So, last April, Henry participated in a video conference between schoolchildren in Cincinnati and Israel.  He brought something special with him, a miniature Torah, to help him tell his story.  On the other end of the conference link was Rona Ramon, the widow of the Israeli astronaut who died in the Columbia tragedy.  Was it a coincidence?  Could it be?  Here was a man holding a miniature Torah scroll, a gift from cousins who had escaped Nazi Germany. It was amazingly similar to the one that Ilan had taken with him into space on Columbia’s ill-fated mission nearly three years ago.

Ilan Ramon had taken the original miniature scroll into space as a tribute to Israel, to the Jewish people, and to his mother, a survivor of the Auschwitz death camp. Rona Ramon remembered how, when she and Ilan first held the tiny Torah in Houston before the Columbia liftoff, their hands shook.  What a holy opportunity.  What a way to demonstrate how ideas such as brotherhood, and cooperation – ideas central to the Torah – are elemental to our future; how they truly encircle our world.

That 4-inch, handwritten Torah belonged to Joachim Joseph, an astrophysicist at Tel Aviv University. In 1944, as a Dutch child in the concentration camp of Bergen-Belsen, Joseph had studied secretly for his Bar Mitzvah using the miniature scroll that a rabbi smuggled into their barracks.  After the ceremony, the rabbi handed it to Joseph, hoping that the boy would survive to tell the story.

In a nearby barracks was a red-haired, freckle-faced 6-year-old — Henry Fenichel.

Rona Ramon couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Henry during that video conference.  “There was this modest man, a Dutch survivor of the Holocaust, holding a small Torah that was like a sister to the Torah that Ilan took up in space,” she recalled. “I knew that I needed to ask him for a very big favor — to allow his Torah to go up in the next shuttle, and make the return back to Earth — for Ilan’s sake, for his memory, to complete his mission.”

Knowing that another Space Shuttle mission was coming up, she called a close family friend, Canadian astronaut Steve MacLean, and asked him if he might take the Cincinnati Torah on NASA's Atlantis shuttle this past fall in memory of her husband and the Columbia crew.  She contacted Henry and he agreed.

The Atlantis mission to the International Space Station returned safely on Sept. 21 with Henry Fenichel's tiny Torah in its payload.

There is a Hebrew word – shaleim – which means “being complete.”  I can’t help but think about how many times I have heard the story of Ilan Ramon, and hoped that it would end differently.  That this Israeli pilot, astronaut, and hero, would return safely.  Thankfully, he held many interviews from space, speaking about what he saw from his window, commenting on the issues that should really matter for the inhabitants of our world.  He noted how the Middle East, from space, has no borders.  It looks peaceful.  Were it only the case that the reality on the ground paralleled that view from heaven.

When Atlantis returned safely, Canadian Astronaut MacLean made the following observation about his role in escorting this second Torah into space: "The entire mission that I just did was completing Ilan's mission..."

As 2006 ends and we think about closing out one year, we should also think about the stories that require our efforts to continue into the coming year.  In 2007, what will we do to make something, some place, some one, a little more shaleim – a little more complete?

The Hebrew word shaleim – being complete – is related to the Hebrew word shalom, meaning peace.  When asked about his little Torah that reached the stars, Henry Fenichel remarked that it symbolizes "a hope and future for mankind."  Even though he was so brutally touched by the inhumanities of the Holocaust, his optimism – the Jewish people’s optimism – still shines through.  A newspaper article quoted Henry as saying that “the Columbia Torah — and by extension my Torah, — the Atlantis Torah — represents the survival of the Jewish people and the hope for the future, as well as the ability to rise from the anguish of the Holocaust, and to reach for the stars.”  But he also noted that these Torahs “went up in … spacecraft(s) built by Americans and an international community, together."

It is this togetherness – this vision of shalom – that we hope will prevail in the coming days and throughout the coming year, and years to come.

May our world and our people be blessed with completeness and peace – may this be God’s will – and together let us say – AMEN.

6 points on 6 Points

Learn more about this amazing camp - an article co-written by me, Rabbi Steve Weisman, and Robin Shuler about our time as faculty at the 6 Points Sports Academy:

http://blogs.rj.org/6points/2012/07/20/6-points-on-6-points-2/

6 Points - Recommended reading about this incredible program!

This blog entry was written by Avram Mandell, a Jewish education director from LA, who is on faculty for 6 Points' first session:

http://blogs.rj.org/6points/2012/06/26/sold-on-6-points/

Following Torah study last Shabbat morning, I walked across the street and caught the last 30 minutes of services at 6 Points.  I also had lunch there and returned for an evening faculty get-together.  6 Points has grown so much since it began 2 years (3 summer seasons) ago.  The staff is larger and there are more faculty.  But, most impressive, is the number of campers and their ruach!  The energy is contagious.  I start my faculty stint there next Tuesday.

2012 Summer Camps Are About To Start

My kids finish school tomorrow (June 7, 2012).  Many others are out of school already or have only a few days left.  I read that the staff of the 6 Points Sports Academy, the Union for Reform Judaism's newest camp, will be arriving in Greensboro any day now.  6 Points is starting its third year and, in a short period of time, has become THE place for Jewish athletes to spend their summers.  I am looking forward to being one of the Camp Rabbis on faculty this summer, having done so since 6 Points opened.

6 Points' program has many strong elements.  Sports are not "activities" but rather are one of two central parts of the camp.  When I was growing up, we would play softball for an hour, then volleyball, then swim, then arts and crafts or nature.  There were activities that we loved and activities that we attended only because we had to.  Campers who attend 6 Points are there because they want to be.  A 12 year old playing Little League baseball, a high school girls lacrosse player, a competitive swimmer all know that they will spend the better part of their day for the duration of camp focusing on their selected sport.  Clinics in the morning and evening range from drills to skills; it is not uncommon to see scrimmages, games, and competitions just like you might find at Spring Training or at elite preseason camps.

The second, but by no means second-class, major component of 6 Points is Judaism.  As one friend put it: "those who come to 6 Points have 2 religions - sports and Judaism."  Jewish values are central to each day - and a range of values are presented and highlighted throughout each session.  For example, the value of Kavod (Honor) might be highlighted during morning assembly and breakfast.  Coaches on the fields then reinforce this value, referring to it time and again (in English and in Hebrew) during clinics, games, etc.  An interactive evening program helps to reinforce this value.  There may be videos shown, stories told, quick activities, all designed to make Jewish learning and living a seamless part of each day.

On my own blog, I have often posted about Jewish values and how they play out in the world of sports.  Here are a few additional links:

Kavod - Greensboro's Golf Tournament Names Its First African American Co-Chairs, Henry and Shirley Frye (local civil rights and civic leaders)
http://www.news-record.com/content/2012/06/04/article/hardin_historic_day_for_triads_golf_tournament
or this story about helping an opponent finish a race - which positive Jewish values does this incident exemplify?
http://espn.go.com/high-school/track-and-xc/story/_/id/8010251/high-school-runner-carries-fallen-opponent-finish-line
or this Sports Illustrated story about the good that Phil Mickelson is doing off of the golf course - what can athlethes and so many others learn from this example?  again, which positive Jewish values does this story illustrate?
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1197997/index.htm
As stories and other examples come my way, I will post them throughout the summer.  Ideas and thoughts are always welcome.

Tebow & Van Halen: Two Stories of Tzedakah

Rick Reilly's post I Believe in Tim Tebow arrived in my Google Reader at the same time that another article did about Eddie Van Halen's recent gift of 75 guitars to the Mr. Holland's Opus Foundation.

Here are two guys, an athlete and a rock guitarist (one of my favorites, I must admit), who have had their share of successes and criticisms.  It cannot be easy to be a celebrity.  These days, everyone is under such scrutiny.  Time and again, we see how people who have achieved so much either crumble under the immense weight placed on them or they fall off of the unrealistically high pedestal they are placed on.

It is nice to see an article catching people as they are doing what is right.

The word for doing what in right in Hebrew is "tzedek."  When we help others and "right" the world, we refer to this as "tzedakah."

Tzedakah isn't only what is expected of those in the spotlight.  It is expected from everyone.  What I found especially refreshing about these articles is that they remind us of this.

Way to go Tim Tebow!  Way to go Eddie Van Halen!  More than any game or album, these gestures will be your lasting legacies.  This is true for anyone who gives, helps, or volunteers.

Repost: Greensboro soldier last Iraq casualty

Ever since the 1,000th US military casualty in Iraq, Temple Emanuel of Greensboro has read the names of the week's fallen soldiers each Friday night and Saturday morning prior to the mourner's prayer.  Rabbi Fred Guttman and I decided to start this after a local TV station refused to air a special on the war which would scroll all 1,000 names at the end of the broadcast.  They claimed it was unpatriotic.  Unpatriotic?  Years later, this is hard to believe or understand.  Those of us who have been to a military funeral, as Rabbi Guttman and I did at a local church, know that remembering and paying tribute to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice cannot and must not be taken lightly.  Had there been more reports of casualties, had the names scrolled nightly on major networks as they did during my earliest years when the Vietnam War was being fought, perhaps the Iraq War and the war in Afghanistan would have been more in the public conscience than it has been.  This may be the first time in American history that our country waged war while the vast majority of the public paid little or no attention to what was going on.

Not at our Temple.  Reading names was not a political statement.  It was a sacred reminder that those sacrificing their lives were not just other people's family: brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, partners and friends.  They were part of our larger American family.

In recent years, there have been fewer killed in Iraq and many more killed in Afghanistan.  We continue reading names each week with the hope that the day will come soon when "nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." (Isaiah 2:4)

For all of our soldiers who died in Iraq we say thank you for your service and sacrifice.  Zichronam livracha, may their memories always be a blessing.

Greensboro soldier last Iraq casualty

Monday, December 19, 2011

By Tom Breen and Don Babwin,  Associated Press

Seth Perlman (Associated Press)

Photo Caption: In this photo taken Wednesday, photographs of Marine Pvt. Jonathan Lee Gifford, who was killed just two days into the Iraq war, sit on display at the home of his mother, Vicky Langley.

GREENSBORO — As the last U.S. troops withdrew from Iraq on Sunday, friends and family of the first and last American fighters killed in combat were cherishing their memories rather than dwelling on whether the war and their sacrifice was worth it.

Nearly 4,500 American fighters died before the last U.S. troops crossed the border into Kuwait. David Hickman, 23, of Greensboro was the last of those war casualties, killed in November by the kind of improvised bomb that was a signature weapon of this war.

“David Emanuel Hickman. Doesn’t that name just bring out a smile to your face?” said Logan Trainum, one of Hickman’s closest friends, at the funeral where the soldier was laid to rest after a ceremony in a Greensboro church packed with friends and family.

Trainum says he’s not spending time asking why Hickman died: “There aren’t enough facts available for me to have a defined opinion about things. I’m just sad, and pray that my best friend didn’t lay down his life for nothing.”

 

He’d rather remember who Hickman was: A cutup who liked to joke around with friends. A physical fitness fanatic who half-kiddingly called himself “Zeus” because he had a body that would make the gods jealous. A ferocious outside linebacker at Northeast Guilford High who was the linchpin of a defense so complicated they had to scrap it after he graduated because no other teenager could figure it out.

Hickman was these things and more, a whole life scarcely glimpsed in the terse language of a Defense Department news release last month. Three paragraphs said Hickman died in Baghdad on Nov. 14, “of injuries suffered after encountering an improvised explosive device.”

He was more, too, than the man who bears the symbolic freight of being the last member of the U.S. military to die in a war launched in the political shadow of Sept. 11, which brought thousands of his fellow citizens out into the streets to oppose and support it. Eventually, the war largely faded from the public’s thoughts.

“There’s a lot of people, in my family included, they don’t know what’s going on in this world,” said Wes Needham, who coached linebackers at Northeast when Hickman was a student. “They’re oblivious to it. I just sit and think about it, the courage that it takes to do what they do, especially when they’re all David’s age.”

And they were mostly young. According to an Associated Press analysis of data, the average age of Americans who died in Iraq was 26. Nearly 1,300 were 22 or younger, but middle-aged people fought and died as well: some 511 were older than 35.

“I’ve trained a lot of kids. They go to college and you kind of lose track of them and forget them,” said Mike King of Greensboro Black Belt Academy, where Hickman trained in taekwondo for about eight years. “He was never like that. That smile and that laugh immediately come to mind.”

The pain is fresh for people who knew Hickman. But the years have not eased the anguish of those who lost loved ones in the war’s earliest days, when funerals were broadcast live on local television, before the country became numb to the casualty count.

Vicky Langley’s son, Marine Pvt. Jonathan Lee Gifford, was killed just two days into the war. More than eight years later she sits in her Decatur, Ill., home, surrounded by photographs of him and even a couple of paintings of him in his dress uniform that total strangers created and sent her.

She said she doesn’t concern herself with thoughts about the cost of the war and whether it was worth the life of her son and all the others who died.

“Only the Iraqi people can answer that,” she said.

She thinks of her son constantly. She recalls the first day of kindergarten and how she came home and “turned on every appliance I could (because) it was just so quiet without him.” She remembers how as a young man he would call her, without fail, when the first snow of the year started to fall. She still hears the knock at her door at 11 at night, and the chaplain telling her that her 30-year-old son had been killed in Iraq.

And she sees him in the 4-year-old daughter he left behind, who is now 12. Lexie Gifford’s thin frame and face are miniature versions of her father’s, her smile a replica of his. She has the same slow, I’ll-get-there-when-I-get-there walk.

And who, for a reason nobody understands, a while back started popping frozen French fries in her mouth just like her dad used to do.

As the last troops prepared to leave Iraq, Langley was getting ready.

“I’ll probably sit and cry,” said Langley, 58. “I’ll be happy for the ones you can be happy for and sad for the ones you are sad for.”

Langley’s life has been one catastrophe after another since her son died. The next year her husband died. Then months later, doctors told her the reason she was feeling poorly was that her kidneys had shut down. That was followed by a fall and a broken back. Today, as she waits for her name to come up on a list for a kidney transplant, she gets around the house she shares with her mother in a motorized scooter.

The one thing she doesn’t have, she said, is guilt. Though she talked her son out of enlisting in the military a couple of times over the years, the reasons began and ended with concerns about the safety for her only child.

But after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, she knew there would be no talking him out of enlisting. Besides, she said, “If I was young enough I would have gone in, too.”

And even though the country’s mood was much different in 2009 when Hickman joined the Army, he had no doubts about his decision, Trainum said.

“When I talked with him on the phone a week before, he wasn’t unhappy about where he was or regretting being there at all,” Trainum said. “It was just going to work for him, and he was looking forward to getting his work done and getting home.”

Hickman, Gifford and the others left behind parents and spouses and children such as Lexie, whose memories of her Marine father are what one might expect of a girl who was four when she last saw him.

“He popped out of a Christmas box,” she said, of the Christmas just before Gifford was deployed, when he hid inside a large box to surprise his daughter. “He was tall. He had brown hair. He was nice.”

The losses linger for people who saw the flag-draped coffins come home.

“I used to watch all the war stories on TV, you know,” said Needham, Hickman’s old coach. “But since this happened to David, I can’t watch that stuff anymore. I just think: That’s how he died.”