On any given Shabbat morning, anywhere from a dozen to three dozen members of this community (and some interested non-members) gather for Torah study. Most do it “religiously”, building it into their weekend schedules as a not-to-be-missed part of their week and/or their experience of Shabbat.

I have led Torah study in our congregation for the past twenty-two years. Over the course of that time I have cycled through the Torah at least four times, either portion-by-portion or verse-by-verse. One might think that I’d get tired of doing so. The truth is, I have always looked forward to Torah Study with our “regulars”, some of whom are seasonal attendees, some of whom have departed for Torah Study experiences elsewhere and some who have simply departed this life (and who may yet be studying Torah…who knows?!)

One constant through the decades has been the Torah commentary we have used: The Torah: A Modern Commentary whose General Editor and Chief  Author was Rabbi W. Gunther Plaut (z”l) This marvelous compendium of erudite scholarship, critical essays, and helpful footnotes served a great need for a modern, liberal Torah commentary when it was first published around 1980. It sources draw from a variety of academic disciplines: biblical criticism, archeology, psychology, anthropology, physical sciences, etc. A revised edition, published within the past few years, has allowed this marvelous guide to Torah to remain vital and informative.

Rabbi Plaut died on February 8 at the age of ninety-nine. In his memory, and in deep appreciation for his intellect and energy that led to the creation of The Torah: A Modern Commentary, I want to share the following insights into his life written by Rabbi David Ellenson, President of the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion:

“Rabbi Plaut was an unparalleled scholar, leader, and rabbi of our Reform Movement and our People.  HUC-JIR will be forever blessed that it had the zechut to bring him from Germany to our Cincinnati campus during the 1930s and save him from destruction during the Shoah.

Born in Germany, he studied at the Universities of Heidelberg and Berlin, and received the LLB (1933) Doctor of Laws (1934) from the University of Berlin.  He fled from Hitler in 1935 for the United States, and found a safe haven at our Cincinnati campus, where he was ordained in 1939.  He served as a chaplain with the Infantry during World War II, was present at the capture of the first concentration camp in Germany, and was decorated with the Bronze Star.

Rabbi Plaut served as a rabbi in Chicago, St. Paul, and, from 1961 on, at Holy Blossom Temple in Toronto. He retired from his post as Senior Rabbi of Holy Blossom Temple in 1978 and was appointed its Senior Scholar.

He published over two dozen books on theology, philosophy, and history, as well as works of fiction.  His best known work is The Torah — A Modern Commentary, of which he was editor and chief author.

Known as an uncompromising enemy of all manifestations of racism, he was the founder of Toronto’s Urban Alliance on Race Relations; a founding member of the North York (Toronto) Committee on Community, Race and Ethnic Relations, and he served as a one-person federal commission to redraft Canada’s refugee legislation (1984-85). From 1978 to 1985, he served as Vice-Chair of the Ontario Human Rights Commission, and upon leaving the Commission served for a number of years as a Board of Inquiry (Adjudicator).  All of his decisions have been published.

A leader in the Jewish and larger community, he served as the President of the Canadian Jewish Congress, President of the Central Conference of American Rabbis, and Chairman of the Toronto Jewish Appeal.

Rabbi Plaut served on the HUC-JIR Board of Governors and was honored by HUC-JIR with the Doctor of Divinity, honoris causa, in 1964, and the Doctor of Humane Letters, honoris causa, in 2003.  He also received honorary doctorates from the University of Toronto, York University, and McMaster University.  He was a Companion of the Order of Canada and received the Order of Canada Award, the highest award given by the Canadian government.

In his scholarship, congregational calling, and his life, we will not see his like again.  Baruch dayan emet.”

Tomorrow morning, as we begin our Shabbat encounter with Torah, we will pause to honor the life and the contributions of Rabbi W. Gunther Plaut.

Reb Elias

My father, Dr. Alfred Toby Lieberman (of blessed memory), was a physician. He was, to be precise, an “otorhinolaryngologist” (a word I learned to pronounce as a very young child)–an “ear, nose and throat” specialist. He graduated from the University of Cincinnati Medical School and went on to Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore to pursue his residency training, the first Jew admitted to that program in Johns Hopkins’ history.

During the Second World War my father served in the Army Air Corps and was stationed at Wright-Patterson Airfield in Dayton, OH. (Dayton was my father’s hometown and he would regale us with tales of his daily walk past Orville & Wilbur Wright’s bicycle shop when he was a boy.) He was involved in medical research examining the inner-ear problems encountered by pilots flying at high altitudes that sometimes led to loss of consciousness. His work contributed to successful solutions to this vexing problem.

In his private practice my father saw a variety of patients. He was known, admired and loved for his gentle touch and demeanor as a physician. He was a surgeon who frequently performed delicate inner-ear surgery. One of my cherished memories is sitting alongside my father as he performed one such operation. I viewed his actions through an ancillary microscope viewing tube. I was quite in  awe of his skill at manipulating surgical instruments in the tiniest of spaces.

One of the ironies of his life was that, as he aged, my father began to suffer a serious loss of hearing. This was, in part, caused by exposure to airplane engine noise during the war. My father used two hearing aids which were far less sensitive than those available today, but which did help him to function. Toward the end of his life, his hearing loss was so great that, to effectively hold a conversation with him, one would need to speak into a microphone that fed the audio signal directly to his hearing aids. I must say that my father dealt with his disability with patience and an admirable lack of self-pity.

I think of my father often but always when I am in a situation where someone present has a hearing disability. I do my best to not only speak loudly and clearly for that person’s benefit but to encourage everyone else present to do so as well. Few of us, I think, can fully appreciate the sense of isolation and disconnection imposed by hearing loss.

I share these memories ands insights because February is Jewish Disability Awareness Month. The mission of Jewish Disability Awareness Month is to unite Jewish communities and organizations for the purpose of raising awareness and supporting meaningful inclusion of people with disabilities and their families in every aspect of Jewish life.

This can be a time when we deepen our understanding of what it means to live with a disability and how much still remains to be done–in our society, in our communities, in our synagogues–to help ensure that everyone feels maximally included and involved. For a variety of helpful resources, I suggest that you do an Internet search under “Jewish Disability Awareness Month”.

My beloved father died in 1988. Among the many blessings bequeathed me by him is a sensitivity to the challenges of hearing loss and deafness. May each of us find inspiration to increase our ability and commitment to respond to those with disabilities and to advocate for a society that recognizes and meets the needs of all people.

Reb Elias

As I anticipate our nation’s observance of the birthday of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the word “legacy” has been on my mind. One definition for that words supplies us with this: “anything handed down from the past, as from an ancestor or predecessor.” The English word “legacy” is derived from the late 14c., “a body of persons sent on a mission,” from Old French legacie “legate’s office,” from Medieval Latin legatia, from Latin legatus “ambassador, envoy”.

Dr. King was, indeed, an envoy…an ambassador for righteousness bearing a message of truth that was often uncomfortably received. The legacy of Dr. King’s life and his passionate commitments are still being debated, some forty-three years after his assassination in April, 1968 in Memphis, Tennessee. Had he lived, what might Dr. King have done, what causes would he have embraced, what strategies would he have employed? Would Dr. King recognize in the Occupy Wall Street movement the legacy of his Poor People’s Campaign? Would he have agonized over U.S. involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan with the same fervor that he was bringing to his opposition to the Vietnam War when his life was snuffed out? We can only speculate.

“On the last Saturday of his life, sitting in his study at Ebenezer, King fretted and contemplated a fast–a genuine sacrifice for a man who joked about how his collars were growing tighter. He mused about getting out of the full-time movement, maybe becoming president of Morehouse College. Then his spirits started to rise. “He preached himself out of the gloom,” says Jackson. “We must turn a minus into a plus,” King said, “a stumbling block into a stepping-stone–we must go on anyhow.”

[From an article by Vern E. Smith and Jon Meacham, published in Newsweek in 1998,  found here.]

Anyone who has studied Dr. King’s life, replete with the challenges and contradictions to which every human being is prey, cannot but conclude that Dr. King–had he lived–would have found a way to “go on anyhow”.

Looking at our fractious society with its ever-expanding wealth disparity, at our environmentally-challenged planet, at the seemingly intractable conflicts that erupt in violence and bloodshed, we are ever mindful of the need for the precious legacy that Dr. King bequeathed us….the sacred obligation to “preach [ourselves] out of the gloom” and “turn a minus into a plus”.

I hope that you will avail ourselves of these opportunities to celebrate Dr. King’s birthday and to tap in, once again, to his inspiring legacy.

Reb Elias