Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

A Parable of Two Ships

Rabbinic wisdom speaks of a well known parable about two ships were sailing near the shore; one headed toward the open sea, while the other headed toward the harbor. Everyone was cheering the outgoing ship. But very few cheered for the incoming vessel. A sage observed, there is something paradoxical about all this. The outgoing ship should not be cheered, for nobody knows what lies ahead in wait for it. Nobody knows what stormy seas it may encounter; what dangers might lie ahead of the person as she continues her voyage.  But everyone ought to be cheering the incoming ship, for it has clearly reached the port safely. The ship concluded its journey in peace. Loved ones were now united; life begins anew once more. . . .

We are here to pay tribute to a most remarkable woman, Esther Avruch,  whose voyage through life was full of danger, loss, joy and triumph.  survived the horrors of the Holocaust and made a wonderful life.

Esther’s Life

Let me tell you a little bit about Esther’s life. She was born July 15, 1929, in Sochaczew, Poland, the daughter of Avrum-Scholum  and Miriam Fleischman.  She was the third youngest of ten children, Esther, and one of her sisters were the only family members to survive the Warsaw Ghetto and the Holocaust.

Like many children in Eastern Europe, religious families sent their children to Catholic schools to learn secular studies, while spending the rest of the day learning about Judaism. (My father also attended Catholic school with all of his siblings–despite the fact that they were Hasidic Jews; this was quite common in Eastern Europe because there were no public schools.) Esther learned at the one of the first Beth Ya’akob schools for Jewish girls. Esther could still remember the songs she learned in school. She dressed up like a Jewish princess whenever she attended services, which she always loved doing. Esther also learned to speak several languages that included, Yiddish, Polish, and Hebrew.

Every week, she used to clean her home for the Sabbath; she had a very happy childhood. Esther especially loved dressing up for the Sabbath in her finest clothes.

The Beginning of the War Years

As Hitler approached Poland, anti-Semites used to say, “Just wait till Hitler comes to Poland . . .” The situation grew worst in Sochaczew, and the family decided to leave for Warsaw, where they thought life would be safer.

In one of the buildings they were hiding, a German bomb exploded the building but miraculously nothing happened. This happened on September 3^rd of 1939.

One of the worst experiences occurred on Yom Kippur when all the Jews were huddled at the synagogue, when the Nazis started bombing it.  Esther’s sister Raisel, was injured in the attack; they ran away to their home where they hid in the cellar.

For now, everything was ok—or so it seemed. There was no water, and little Esther had to shlep miles  to bring just a few buckets of water. Warsaw was conquered by the Nazis, and the family had no choice but to go back to their home town. After the Nazis took over, every Jewish home was burned to the ground; the Jews had to wear armbands with the Mogen David insignia on it. As if the Nazis were bad enough, many Poles proved that they could be  just as cruel, and would beat the Jews, and seize their food and water.

Miracles

After a while, Esther and her family were reunited with their father and brothers in Warsaw. Despite the theft of their food and water, Esther did her best to survive and survive she did. When typhus broke out, it was the wisdom of their mother, who protected her children. Anyone going to a hospital, simply never returned.

Starving for food and drink, simple Polish peasants, like a miracle from God, shared their food with the family. They were friends of Esther’s father’s business partners. They acted morally and with compassion. As the war continued, the Germans threatened to kill any Pole who would dare save a Jew. The pious Polish Christian family was gunned down, one by one, for daring to save the Jews.

Esther’s mother, Miriam, always shared with what little food with others who were starving as well.

Throughout the ordeal, Esther did her best to maintain contact with her brother Scharma, who was working at a Polish factory in Warsaw. During that time, she managed to smuggle bread to her brother. At one point, she was caught and beaten by the Nazis for helping the Jews.

Another kind Polish family got her a fake birth certificate, and she then assumed the name Marsia Rakowsa. Because the Nazis never suspected that Esther was Jewish because she had blond features. This act of kindness enabled Esther to survive the war. With this birth certificate, she was able to obtain a ration card, which also helped her escaped getting arrested. On more than one occasion, Esther had to face the German officers and tell them she was an orphan, after her parents were killed in a bombing raid. She attended Church services,  sung Christian songs and nobody suspected that she was Jewish.

Just prior to the what was to be the famous Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, she found out about the plan of the Jews to fight back, and that she needed to prepare herself a special bunker where she would remain safe.  Instead, she decided to take her chances on the Polish side rather than remain in the bunker.  Esther said to herself, “If I am to die, I would rather die in the open air, than die in a bunker.”

Esther’s intuition saved her once more, for after the Germans came in and crushed the revolt, there were no more survivors in any of the bunkers. If people were not killed immediately with their families, they were shipped to the Treblinka concentration camp. She recalls that while her brothers Scharma, Yitzchak, and Benjamin were in the trains, they jumped from the train as the Germans began shooting at them, killing Isaac in the process.  Scharma was knocked out for a while, only to be robbed and attacked by the Poles in a forest nearby. That was the last time she saw her brother Scharma.  Eventually, he was captured and killed by the Nazis. Continue Reading

Childhood Memories

As a child, I used to love reading the golem stories attributed to Rabbi Judah Loew, a.k.a., the famous “Maharal of Prague” (1525-1609).  Since my father came from Czechoslovakia, I grew up hearing many family tales about the golem. These stories were especially delightful since my father was a naturally talented storyteller.  The golem was something like a medieval super-hero who protected the Jewish community from pogroms in its time.  It is interesting to note, that despite the numerous tracts Maharal wrote on various philosophical, talmudic, and mystical themes, never once does he ever refer to the golem that is associated with his name.

What is a Golem?

The term gōlem is a “shapeless mass” (Ps. 139:16), but according to Jewish folklore, a golem is a creature that is made from clay, and is animated by magical and mystical means. One of the more apocryphal stories of the Talmud relates how a 4th century scholar named Rava, magically created a man through the Sefer Yetzirah and sent him to Rabbi Zera. The latter tried speaking to him, but the poor golem could not speak. When there was no response, he declared: ‘You must be a  product of our colleague. Return to your dust!’ and so he died (BT Sanhedrin 65b).

Ironically, it is with no precedent in the Bible, except for the creation of Adam–except, now, it is man who is attempting to act as a mini-creator. How could such hubris not fail?

Indeed, in nearly all the golem legends, it appears that anytime mortals attempt to create human life, it is an activity that is fraught with danger. It seems that our ancestors felt suspicious about the full extent of man’s creative powers. In many of the stories, the golem goes out of control, destroying everything in sight.

Adaptations of the Golem in Western Literature and Cinema

The Frankenstein story is a European re-adaptation of the golem legends. In J. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, Hobbit Gollum devolves into a treacherous shape-shifter under the malign influence of the Ring, it seems obvious that the author had these legends in mind.

In Star Trek: The Next Generation, the character Data personifies  the golem legend. When attempting to integrate the emotional chip, he becomes capable of erratic behavior–even violence. Countless sci-fi films have developed this theme in numerous tales about humanoid-like robots turning against their masters, i.e., like the Terminator series. Even the X-Files had an interesting episode of a betrothed woman who turns her murdered husband into a golem, in order to avenge his death.

According to some medieval tales, the golem is indestructible; if the golem had been created by writing the Hebrew word “אמת” (emet; “truth”) on its forehead, it could be destroyed by erasing the first letter to produce the word “מת” (met; “dead”). If one had created a golem by placing the name of God in its mouth, all that was needed was to remove the parchment. Continue Reading

Purim Torah is a remarkable genre of Jewish literature. It is rabbinic satire at its best that centers around the festivities of Purim. Those individuals writing Purim Torah display remarkable wit in weaving Talmudic logic in fabricating conclusions that border the absurd and sublime.

Earlier this week, I received a delightful section of a fabricated Talmud–replete with all the Aramaic expressions one would expect to find in a Talmudic debate. The selection contains a discussion involving President Obama, Al Gore, and the debate about global warming.  Even the commentaries of Rashi and Tosfot that explained the make-believe text looked pretty authentic. The name of the tractate is Mesechect Obama Metzia (a pun on Bava Metzia).

Here is another example of Torah that almost sounds like a Rod Serling story from the Twilight Zone.

The story is well-known. Haman’s plot to destroy the Jews of the Persian Empire ended in disaster for Haman and his family. Queen Esther and Ahashverus have a conversation (Esther 9:12-14).

And the king said to Esther the queen: The Jews have slain and destroyed five hundred men in Shushan the capital, and the ten sons of Haman…Now whatever your petition, it shall be granted; whatever your request further, it shall be done.

Then said Esther: If it please the king, let it be granted to the Jews that are in Shushan to do tomorrow also as this day, and let Haman’s ten sons be hanged upon the gallows.

One might ask: Esther’s request seems somewhat strange. The ten sons of Haman had already been killed, why bother to hang them? The simple approach suggests she made this request so that everyone would know the consequences that would befall them, should anyone attempt to harm the Jews.

Rabbinic commentaries have a different spin. Commenting on the word “tomorrow,” in Esther’s request, the Sages comment:

“There is a tomorrow that is now, and a tomorrow which is later.” (Tanchuma Bo 13 and Rashi on Exodus 13:14).

From this interpretation, 20th century rabbis extrapolate that Esther was asking that the hanging of Haman’s ten sons not remain an isolated episode in history… But wait! What other “tomorrow” could Esther have been alluding to? Inquiring minds want to know!

And now you are going to hear–the rest of the story …

Rabbi Moshe Katz writes about one of the most remarkable “Torah Codes” of all time. In general, I have never subscribed to the belief in a hidden computerized message that is embedded within a biblical text. This particular interpretation is too striking  to ignore. If nothing else, it is an incredible synchronicity. He writes: Continue Reading

Purim has a “carnivalesque”  quality both in terms of its original narrative, as well as how the holiday is celebrated. Despite its joyous display of festivities and mardi gras, the holiday masks a very serious reality—the precarious nature of Jewish survival.

One of my favorite literary critics, the 20th century Russian literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin, defined the carnivalesque as a literary mode that subverts and liberates the  assumptions of the dominant style or atmosphere through humor, chaos, and paradox.

The carnivalesque vision is utopian in that it exposes the hierarchical distinctions of our social order as arbitrary, relative–a matter of social convention.  Hans Christian Andersen’s famous short story, The Emperor’s New Clothes, illustrates the carnivalesque spirit that ridicules monarchs who believe that their social position makes them inherently superior to the common person is altogether ridiculous–even illusory.

The experience of the carnival–with all the social niceties, hierarchies within a given social order, perceptions of truth, the concepts of reverence or piety and etiquettes–are profaned and overturned by normally suppressed voices and energies. A fool may suddenly appear wise, kings may transform into beggars, worlds of opposites co-mingle as if reality itself has turned upside down upon its head.

Many of Bahktin’s ideas can be seen in the story of how Esther and Mordechai thwarted a genocide that was being planned against the Jewish people.

In the book of Esther, the king’s penchant for partying, immediately displays to the reader a surreal world where the beautiful Queen Vashti is suddenly treated as  though she were a common stripper at a bachelor party. Continue Reading

The joke is as old as the hills.

A Chinese man and his Jewish friend were walking along one day when the Jewish man whirled and slugged the Chinese man and knocked him down. “What was that for?” the Chinese man asked. “That was for Pearl Harbor!” the Jewish man said. “Pearl Harbor? That was the Japanese. I’m Chinese.” “Chinese, Japanese, you are all the same!” “Oh!” They continued walking and after a while the Chinese man whirled and knocked the Jewish man to the ground. “What was that for?” the Jewish man asked. “That was for the Titanic!” “The Titanic? That was an iceberg.” “Iceberg, Goldberg, you are all the same.”

Like Haman, Hitler, Hamas, and Ahmadinejad would certainly agree. It made no difference what kind of Jew they wanted to kill. Old, young, male, female, straight, gay, Haredi, Hassidic, Orthodox, Reform, Conservative, Humanistic, Reconstructionist, Ortho-form, Re-conservadox–you name it. Our enemies really don’t care what we call ourselves.

Whenever I read about religious politics of “Who is a Jew?” in Israel, I often think about anti-Semites impassioned hatred for all Jews–regardless whether their names are “Iceberg,” or “Goldberg.” However, today it is no longer fashionable to be “anti-Jewish,” it is much more avant garde to be “anti-Zionist.”

How quaint.

Whenever you think of the 100,000  missiles in Lebanon aimed at Israel, know that Hezbollah really wants to destroy “Zionists,” and not “Jews” who live in Israel.

Whenever you hear how Iranian mullahs want to “nuke” Israel, they really want to just get at the “Zionists,” and not hurt the Jews, right?

When a terrorist attack strikes a kindergarten in Israel, the terrorists are only trying to kill “Zionists,” and not Jews, right?

Isn’t funny that in any future Palestinian State, Jews will not be allowed to live within its borders–but only Israel practices “apartheid,” right?

Nazi-war criminals lived a celebrity style of life in Egypt, like the world’s most-wanted Nazi war criminal, concentration camp doctor Aribert Heim. He died in Cairo in 1992. The report said Heim was living under a pseudonym and had converted to Islam by the time of his death from intestinal cancer.

Countless Nazi war-criminals went to the Arab countries because they were anti-Zionist, right?

As one friend of mine explained the problem:

We refuse to acknowledge the Jews as a people, and think they are only a religion. We do not have an answer to how people who do NOT practice the Jewish religion can still be regarded as Jews. But that does not mean we have anything against Jews as such. Continue Reading

Purim is here once more. For me it is a bitter-sweet holiday.

The year was 1996. Earlier that day, I went to the hospital to wish my father a “Freilach Purim” (Happy Purim).  I was reading the Megillah for my synagogue, when suddenly, somebody informed me,”Rabbi, your father just died.” Feeling stunned, I could not finish reading the Megillah.

Death is as mysterious as life; I believe we have to find meaning in the events that occur around us.  Psychologist Victor Frankl discovered in Auschwitz that a human being needs something more to live for, other than fulfilling one’s biological needs. The search for meaning  and personal fulfillment propels us toward living a more spiritual kind of life.

So I wondered . . . Why did my father pass away on this particular day? What is the meaning of this event? How is my father’s death related to Purim, a day when Haman attempted to commit genocide on the Jewish people?

The answer was only too obvious.

My father, Leo Israel Samuel, was a survivor of the death camps of Madianek and Auschwitz. Like so many other Holocaust survivors, he faced “Haman” and survived. Because of his own miraculous survival, Purim was always a special holiday for him. I suspect his soul saw something almost poetic in passing away on a day that epitomized his own life journey.

The Jewish people have a long list of adversarial foes who have tried to destroy her. Some have taken aim at destroying her spirit, through attempts to inculturate the Jews to whatever the dominant faith happened to be, e.g., Hellenism, Christianity, Islam. Other enemies tried to physically destroy the Jew, because the Jew represents hope for a more enlightened and tolerant world. Continue Reading

In the previous posts, we touched upon the dynamics of the shadow archetype that hides the inner person that exists inside us. The key to a optimum psychological state of health requires that we get understand the hidden depths of our souls and psyches. Here is a remarkable story about coming to terms with one’s shadow, compliments of  NY Times and the Failedmessiah–two excellent websites.

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From Skinhead to Orthodox Jew

Pawel in the Warsaw synagogue. A former truck driver and neo-Nazi skinhead, Pawel, 33, has since become an Orthodox Jew, covering his shaved head with a yarmulke and shedding his fascist ideology for the Torah.

By DAN BILEFSKY

Published: February 24, 2010

In 1996, I received my doctorate from the San Francisco Theological Seminary in San Anselmo (SFTS), California.  SFTS is really a gorgeous school, nestled in the foothills of Marin County. One could hardly have asked for a better place to study and engage so many thought-provoking teachers. I believe I was the first rabbi ever to go through their Doctorate of Ministry program. It proved to be a wonderful learning experience that introduced me to Biblical Greek, Christian biblical exegesis, history, ethics, spirituality, and theology.  For that, I will be eternally grateful.

By the way, SFTS is a Presbyterian seminary.

Walter Davis was one of the Seminary’s most important leaders while I was there. Walt, (who fought in Vietnam) and I became pretty good friends. I remember him taking me aside after I finished attending a lecture given by Lewis Rambo (he is no relation to Sylvester Stallone ). During one 1995 summer session, Walt said to me, “Michael, I really must apologize for the Presbyterian Church’s failure to come to the Jewish people’s aid during the Holocaust.”

Surprised, I thought about his remarks and said to him, “Walt, if you really want your Church to atone for their apathy during the Holocaust, there is something important your Church can do.” He asked, “What can we do?”  I replied, “Be a friend of the State of Israel—have your Church do everything in its power to make a difference in ensuring Israel’s health and stability. Your Church’s work would go a long way in making up what the Church failed to achieve in the dark days of the Holocaust.” Walt promised me that he would see to it that the Church would become a good friend of Israel.”

Martin Buber often wrote about the spiritual meetings people have and how they sometimes function like miniature epiphanies from God in our lives. I believe Buber’s insights are correct. I might have forgotten about this mystically-directed conversation had it none been for the Presbyterian Church’s animus against the State of Israel.

In 2004, the Church wanted to approve a policy of divestment from Israel. Unpopular with church members, it was later rescinded.

In 2008, church leaders attempted to re-engineer the Church’s Middle East policies and created a committee that unabashedly maintains anti-Israel policies. One supporter of Israel who served as a member of this committee, quit in protest after he saw their radical agenda. Continue Reading

Every Apocryphal Story Has  a Germ of Historical Truth

According to an apocryphal legend,^[1] Egyptian King Ptolemy Philadelphus (who ruled 285-246 B.C.E.) sent a delegation to a high priest named Eleazar in Jerusalem, who  organized  a group of 72 scribes  to write a new translation of the Bible for the city of  Alexandria.^[2] These men purportedly translated the Hebrew Pentateuch into Greek in only seventy-two days.

A Jewish philosopher named Aristeas, records how the scribes felt inspired and arrived at a synchronous translation. Philo of Alexandria also claims that each of the translators, working under divine inspiration, arrived at identical phraseology as though dictated by an invisible prompter (Moses, 302).

Historians know that this apocryphal tale does not represent the composition of the Septuagint that we have today. Rather, it was composed over a sustained period of time from approximately the  middle of  2^nd B.C.E. to the 1^st century C.E. In any event, the name “Septuagint,” actually derives from the Latin septuāgintā, “seventy” (from the traditional number of its translators) : septem, seven; see sept in Indo-European roots + -gintā, ten times; see dek in Indo-European roots]. [3]

Sleuthing One of the World’s Great Mysteries

Scholars and lay-people often wonder what inspired the first translation of the Bible? Why was the first translation of the Bible written in Greek? What was the motivation of the early translators of  the Bible? What did they hope to achieve?  The real story behind the Septuagint almost reads like a good detective novel.

Actually, there were many practical reasons why the Alexandrian Jews embarked on this most ambitious literary project. First and foremost, the Septuagint made it easier to educate a generation of Jews who had partially forgotten their ancestral language after having settled in Egypt. Alexandria rapidly became known as the Athens of the Ancient Near East. In fact, by many accounts, Alexandria rivaled Athens in brilliance.

Established by Jewish merchants at the time of Alexander, Alexandria became the world’s first cosmopolitan city–comparable to what Paris now is in Europe. The world’s very first university was built in Alexandria; libraries containing the works of many great Greek thinkers and other famous non-Greek thinkers found a home in a society that was remarkably tolerant of different ethnic groups. Alexandria was proto-modern in a way that was unique.

The Commonalities Between Jewish and Greek Cultures

Obviously, the Greeks and Jews of Alexandria realized that both of their cultures had much in common. Greeks believed they had a chosen vocation to spread Hellenistic culture throughout the world; the Greeks were “chosen” by the gods to achieve this task. The Jews also believed that they have a chosen divine destiny to spread ethical monotheism throughout the world. Obviously, the Greeks were very curious about the Jews and their traditions. A new translation of their works made a lot of sense.

Practical Reasons for Writing the Septuagint

For the Jews who lived in Alexandria, Greek was for these Jews much like what English is today for American Jews, the “lingua franca.” Greek was the language of commerce which made communication in the diplomatic and business world possible. Jewish masses forgot how to speak in Hebrew.

Recognizing that without a translation of the Torah in Greek, the Alexandrian Jewish community would further assimilate, something had to be done.  A Greek translation would make the Torah service at the synagogue more meaningful and relevant. With such a translation, the Alexandrian Jews now had a key to understanding their own religious heritage. The Septuagint also served as a guide for everyday instructional usage. Continue Reading

I personally know of many prodigal sons and daughters of Lubavitch, people who left the famous Hasidic movement for a variety of reasons.  Their stories are all too familiar to me. Some became disillusioned with its values and philosophy; others could no longer reconcile the contradictions of a modern vs. pre-modern lifestyle. In each of these personal narratives,  it is always the individual who redefines his or her own identity.

For members of any closed society, it is typically the community that does the defining.  To leave this kind of world within a world takes a virtual Kierkegaardian leap of faith– into the realm of the unknown, where one undergoes a new kind of genesis. Or perhaps to use a more platonic metaphor, leaving Lubavitch is a lot like the man who left his fellow prisoners in the cave, only to discover a  different kind of reality (The Republic, Book 7). Yes, life  is a series of miniature rebirths. Here is a story about one man’s rebirth that I think many of you will find fascinating.

Shmarya (Scott) Rosenberg  is the owner of the Failedmessiah website. Shmarya’s spiritual journey is a remarkable one. He, like many of us, has taken the road less traveled.  His story began when the late Lubavitcher Rebbe refused to get involved with the rescue of  Ethiopian Jews. The Rebbe’s refusal ultimately resulted in Shmarya’s exodus from Lubavitch.

In a personal letter he received from the Rebbe to Shmarya, the Rebbe wrote that “spiritually” rescuing American Jews from assimilation was an  urgent matter that took precedence over rescuing the “Jewish” community of Ethiopia. Rabbi Schneerson probably felt that  saving American Jews was a matter of triage. However, most of the other great rabbis of that era like Rabbi Moshe Feinstein and Rav Joseph Baer Soloveitchik, supported the rescue efforts regardless of the practical Halachic doubts some of them  had concerning the “Jewishness” of the Ethiopian Jews. Even as of today, Lubavitch still refuses to have any kind of outreach with Ethiopian Jews, despite the fact they underwent Orthodox conversions in Israel.

It is difficult to blame Shmarya for his animus against the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, but his alienation from the movement has led him to a renewed sense of personal and spiritual discovery. Shmarya has long since  become a voice of Jewish conscience. He routinely holds the Orthodox world accountable for its countless misdeeds and foibles.

Much in the spirit of the French philosopher and writer Voltaire, Shmarya reveals the Monty Python-esque characteristics of nearly all the great Orthodox rabbis of our present generation, and most of these anecdotes are outrageous. After reading his blog, one gets the inescapable feeling that the age of Gedolim (authentic rabbinic scholars who embody the best qualities of Judaism) has become either of thing of the past, or is an endangered species.

In a century or two from now, future generations will find this material historically valuable; students will read Failedmessiah much like we now study the 17th century diaries of Samuel Pepys from London. Anyone interested, may want to read Shmarya’s critique of Rabbi Safran, who recently blamed the Haiti earthquake on Jewish cartoonists who dared to castigate Orthodox outreach programs. His stories  on the  “holy Kabbalists” usually depict them as con-artists, who prey (pun intended) upon the gullible public. For the most part, Shmarya exposes a ruthlessness that exists within the Lubavitcher organization itself which its supporters never see. Frankly, Chabad can gain great wisdom from his criticisms.

To his credit, the Failedmessiah has literally forced the entire Orthodox world to become more circumspect and responsible with its members’ group behavior. Without his website, it is doubtful whether the yeshiva world would ever have taken ownership of the pedophilia cases that exist within their rank and file members and spiritual leadership. Really now, shouldn’t  the Orthodox members police their communities for everyone’s sake?

Historically, such issues have always plagued Jewish traditional observant communities. Prior to the Internet and blogging, these scandals would have most certainly been swept under the rug, away from public scrutiny. However, thanks to Failedmessiah and other bloggers that he has inspired, a conspiracy of silence is no longer possible.

Sigmund Freud was one of the first modern secular Jewish thinkers to see the profound spiritual and ethical disconnect of  the “religious” people of his era. He realized that it is far easier to worship God through mechanical ritual than it is to behave as an ethical human being. Freud subsequently viewed religion as a neurosis–and probably for good reason. When one observes the kind of shenanigans the Orthodox in Israel perpetuate daily in Israel, it is obvious that we do a pretty good job creating our own brand of anti-Semitism without the help of David Duke and his ilk. Shmarya Rosenberg provides an invaluable service for the Jewish community by forcing all of us to examine our shadow side. Continue Reading