A House Without Heirlooms -- May 16, 2010

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"A House Without Heirlooms"

D'var Torah

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

Temple Beth-El Annual Meeting

May 16^th, 2010

 

Dear Congregation:

Dr. Ismar Schorsch, past chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary wrote a d'var Torah in December, 2001 on the Torah portion of Vayeshev, talking about patriarch Jacob's moving and reflecting on the moves in his own life. Born in Germany, he arrived in America in March, 1940. As his father was a pulpit Rabbi, they moved to different congregations. Being a renowned historian, Dr. Schorsch reflected on the American Jewish scene. He wrote: "We American Jews are forever relocating…Yet frequent moving puts Jewish identity at risk…The price of our celebrated mobility is a house without heirlooms."

I found his d'var Torah when I was preparing for Torah class and set it aside to write this one. What are heirlooms? Do you really need them? What do you do with them? What happens when you don't have them or discard them?

Heirlooms are physical tangible objects that have history. The dictionary definition is "a possession handed down from generation to generation." Of course an heirloom was created some time, but was added to collection which grows slowly over time. Heirlooms have meaning beyond their immediate usage. Heirlooms don't necessarily sit in a corner or on a shelf. They are used, but in their moment of usage speak by their existence of past times, past people, past moments of usage. I have many heirlooms. Sometimes they compete for my usage. I always use Ruby's grandfather's Kiddush, engraved with the town from which he came. My first Shabbat dinner at her grandmother's table, Grandma gave me that cup and said "You make Kiddush." I have used it ever after. I am still at her table. Though deceased 31 years, she lives. She lives in the Shabbat Yom Tov licht that Ruby lights, her licht that she gave Ruby when we were married. I sit in the chair that was in my maternal grandmother's tenement apartment, in which I sat as a little boy. I sit in that chair and remember her and my life then, even as I do it in here. There is an indelible, invisible, unbreakable, unending connection from Boro Park, Brooklyn, N.Y. to Richmond, Virginia.

Do I need them? My life would be empty without them. Not that they don't make pretty things now, but these objects, and many more, give depth, meaning, connection, history, purpose and illumination to me, to my life, to the deeds that I do. They add levels that would otherwise be missing and thus my life shallower, emptier. We have already handed down heirlooms to our children and grandchildren and are thrilled to see them in their places and in their usages. There is such great joy to retell the stories and passages of an heirloom to Ariel, Moshe and Raya, time after time. It is a rich weave, a luxurious tapestry.

And when you don't have them? My maternal grandmother told me a very long time ago that she brought from Europe her own Shabbat and Yom Tov Licht. I naively asked her where they where? She proudly said that she gave them away for the scrap metal drive of World War I. I never told her how disappointed I was not to have seen them, touched them, watched her light them, see my mother light them and the next generation. It was and is a void of which I am perpetually cognizant.

Heirlooms root us in being, in meaning, in purpose, in history, in relationships, in connectedness. Heirlooms are not museum pieces. Heirlooms do not sit to gather dust and be forgotten from whence and from whom they came. They are meant to be used and lived, held and kissed, cherished and hugged. We bask in their presence and they bless us.

On Friday morning I shared with our son Menachem this quote "a house without heirlooms." In the dialectic of our conversation he asked, Abbah, what about the reverse, "heirlooms without a house." I acknowledged to him to that the words written in both directions have the same implications. As Dr. Schorsch noted, particularly American Jews are very transitory. Look at our congregation. Many are from elsewhere. Many are only one generation here. We can surely take our heirlooms. But when we moved, did they have their places or did they stay in boxes, some for a long time, maybe some are still in them now? There very surely can be heirlooms without a house. Heirlooms without a house.

The synagogue is a house. A house with heirlooms.