by Leon Hoffman, delivered at Minyan M'at

When I responded to Binyamin's request for people to give a dvar torah today, I did not know the contents of today's parsha. I just knew that we would be in town today and in shul.

On a first glance and then a first reading, I regretted volunteering because the topic just did not sit right with me—if you follow my commands you will be blessed and if you don't you will be cursed.

The opposite of good child rearing.

A child learns about right and wrong from his or her parents. He or she wants to please the parents—that is, wants to do good, even if he or she cannot perform or is forced by whatever issue not to perform in a way that pleases the parents. As the child grows he or she wants to please other adults. And, eventually, in most of us, most of the time, these strictures are internalized and we want to please ourselves by doing good.

Back in the old days, the example of a child doing good was the boy scout helping the old lady cross the street and the little girl brownie selling cookies for a good cause. But, certainly it is usually not wise for a parent to rub it into a child's face: follow my rules or else!!!!

To go back to another rationale for giving a dvar torah today.

When I did volunteer and Binyamin accepted, Anne and I spoke about this dvar being in memory of her father, Maurice (Mosheh), who died suddenly, unexpectedly, and tragically, on the 22 of Av exactly 30 years ago (this past Wednesday being the yarzeit.

He was a very good man who was an attorney and who defended those people who needed defending—whether from the outside they looked good or bad; whether they would have been judged by the “one who sees all” as evil or as good. One can just imagine the upbringing and the parenting some of these people had.

Maurice was a quiet man—well read, the strong silent type. I only saw him in court once—and the transformation was remarkable. His authority with the judge was incredible. And, I have another memory from that summer—the Watergate hearings—he expressed his vehemence against Nixon in a very dramatic way.

But who are we to judge anyone's particular actions? Of course, we do. But is the Christian motto, of "turn the other cheek" a way to live. Of course, not!!

How do we respond to aggression that is inflicted on us? Currently we debate: Should we have gone into Iraq or not? Who really knows the right answer? Should we get out? Again, how do we really know prospectively? Only, retrospectively will we know. And, then of course, this parsha reminds us of the hagim. How many of us realize consciously that hag and haj are identical words? Our most bitter enemies our closest kin.

Truly like Jacob and Essau.

What are we to do when our sisters and babies are bombed? What are they to do when their idols (whom we consider villains) are slain by us? Are those of us who preach non-violence correct? Or, are those of us who preach that might is the only way to act correct?

On NPR yesterday morning I heard about the 40th anniversary of Martin Luther King's leadership and the March on Washington. At that time, I was not one of those who was an activist—in fact, I never became a political activist. We all know that famous picture of Heschel marching with King. Yesterday I learned that in the negotiations for the march, President Kennedy wanted to make sure that it was not an all-Negro march, and thus urged others, including Jews to participate.

I remember watching and feeling sad that I did not go. My heart though was on beginning medical school in a couple of weeks Who was to know that in three short months the world would change on November 22, 1963?

Which takes me back to the beginning. Are the ones who follow the rules blessed and the ones who don't cursed? Again—Who is to know?

My parents certainly were ones who followed the rules, obsessively I would say. They were blessed in many, many ways but they were also cursed. They lost all of their families (and a certain amount of their joy of life) in Poland and they had to emigrate. I mention them because on August 26, if they would have been still alive it would have been their 69th wedding anniversary. I also thought of them because in cleaning out my office for a paint job, I came across a copy of the Tlumacz Memorial book published in 1976. Tlumacz was the town of my father's birth in Galicia.

In the book, my father ends his contribution with the following paragraph.

"Thus I reminisced and remembered things long gone, on the other side of the world, across the ocean, the little town of Tlumacz, with its hills and river, where our beloved lived and worked and thanked God for the little they had. Then came the tragedy that wiped out all of them, leaving us the memories and the commemorations. Yet these bind us together, me and my classmates, one now in Australia, another in Chile, the third in Alaska, the fourth here in New Jersey and another in Israel. We grieve and we pray that the death of our townspeople was not in vain, that their blood would in time purify the world which shed it."

Shabat Shalom

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