Clergy Sermons

               I adored my mom.  She was fun and full of life.  She was kind.  She was present.  She was grateful for anything and everything someone did for her. She lived life with genuine love that lifted me, and everyone who knew her, up. She let me know that she admired and respected me. I am heartbroken.

There is a line in the Eshet Chayil prayer which is recited on Friday nights in traditional homes about Jewish women:  Kamu baneha v’ashru’ha – Her children come forward and praise her -rabot banot asu chayl, v’at alit al kulana – many women have done superbly, but you surpass them all.  This verse captures how I feel about my mom. The word hayil which is translated as superbly, actually means strength – many women have done strength – but you surpass them all. Strength is the right word for my mom: Strength of conviction, strength of commitment to family and friends, strength of caring for my dad in their home, strength in her classroom, grit, determination, and independence.  Rabot banot asu chayl, v’at alit al kulana, - she surpasses them all.

Her character, values and example have shaped me. She and I were both wired with joy.  Her ready smile and infectious spirit mirrors pieces of me.  She used to say that I came out of the womb with a smile and happy.  What a nice trait to get from you, Mom!

Mom taught me to treasure people.  She treated people with dignity and care.  If you were a friend, she was loyal and would always be there for you.  Mom created a home where everyone felt accepted, welcome and seen.  Friends felt a sense of home because of our mom.  She nurtured eclectic friendships over the years and invested in them with time, love, devotion and care.  Her friend, Dinah, gave her a plaque she used to keep in the kitchen which said, “Friendship doubles our joy and divides our pain.”  It’s how my mom taught us to live.

My mother believed in showing up. Not just to the big things, but everything. When I hear myself teaching my community to go to Bar Mitzvahs, weddings, graduations, celebrations, shiva, even if it is inconvenient or uncomfortable, I can feel my mom teaching together with me. When I had a student High Holiday pulpit in Flagstaff, Arizona, there was my mom in the front row after having dragged my father along for a twelve-hour car ride.  There are so many stories of mom being there.  She was so happy to be at Mike and Emily’s wedding eight months ago.  The best love is presence, all of those shared moments weave a beautiful tapestry of shared life.

Mom especially showed up for family.  My mother was devoted to my father.  I once asked her what attracted her to him, and she replied: “He was funny, handsome and smart.”  They had some wonderful times together and supported each other in difficult times.  In the last decade as he declined cognitively, my mom was fierce in trying to keep him at home and care for his every need.  When we told him that mom died, a tear came down his cheek.  He understood. He was blessed to have had her as a wife.

Mom and her sister, Rachel, were so close and devoted.  Both of them were teachers, so we would all spend summers together.  We had such fun adventures with Mom and Auntie Rae.  Mom missed Rachel so much after she died. For the last several years, Mom loved having a Zoom with her cherished nieces, Karen and Nomi.

Each grandchild felt treasured by Bubbe. She saw you for who you were and delighted in your uniqueness.  She found ways to connect with each of you in the ways you needed.  I loved watching how much each of you love her.

As I mention family, I want to lift up my sister, Leyne, and Eric, who were there every day doing everything she needed.  You embodied her devotion to family in your love of mom.  Thank you!

Mom instilled in us a love of Judaism.  She shared that her dear friend, Michelle, once asked her what the most important things she wanted in life. My mom thought about it and responded it was that her children be Jewish, and she set about making that happen.  We joined Mosaic Law Congregation.  Hebrew School was non-negotiable.  Passover meant matza sandwiches for school lunches. Extracurricular activities were no excuse for missing Jewish life.  Even if a football practice, necessary to play in the game, was in the afternoon of Yom Kippur after synagogue ended, my mother drew a line amidst protests. The woman who knew nothing about sports quoted how Sandy Koufax didn’t pitch on Yom Kippur.  Damm Sandy Koufax!  But in retrospect, those lines helped shape the knowledge that conviction requires commitment.

Mom chaired the Youth Commission and served on the Mosaic Law Board. She encouraged us to be active in United Synagogue Youth, chaperoned events, sent us to Camp Arazim, began Shabbat dinners when we saw how beautiful it could be when we visited the Feuer’s. For a while mom and I would go to Friday night services followed by a trip to Dairy Queen where we had hot fudge sundaes. (We were eating and dieting buddies.) She made Judaism part of our souls.  She loved that I became a rabbi and made Beth Jacob a home where she formed beautiful connections. The last four years, she would be on our Zoom Shabbat service every week.  It was a great chance to acknowledge her and sometimes tell a sweet Bubbe story.  She would call in the afternoon to tell me how brilliant I was.  I would say, “You have to say that; you’re my mom.” She would protest, “Oh no, that was objectively brilliant.” How can you argue with that? My love of Judaism in many ways a tribute to my mother. 

Mom taught us to love books.  Books are windows to life. I love holding, reading and being around books. We had a room in the house I grew up in on Sierra Oaks Drive that was floor-to-ceiling books.  To this day, places with books feed my soul.  The day before her stroke we had a great trip to Barnes and Noble; there is nothing better than a bookstore with people you love.

My mom taught me to pursue social justice.  We walked precincts for a variety of candidates.  She thought that people would be less likely to close the door in the face of a seven-year-old boy as we campaigned for George McGovern in 1968.  We protested the Vietnam War, marched for Soviet Jewry and rallied against racism.  On the peace march in San Francisco, the crowd was chanting: “One, Two, Three, Four, we don’t want your bleeping war. We asked Mom if we could say the F-Word.  She responded, “Just today.”  Ah, Bubbe wisdom!  We screamed the word, but we learned that you march for what is right.

Mom was devoted to equal rights for women and when we asked where she would like for us to donate as part of our Afikomen ritual, she asked for us to give to Planned Parenthood.  She passionately rejected racism and taught us to love all people.  A piece of my pull to become a rabbi is the call to pursue justice, human dignity, equality and act to make the world a better place.  Mom taught me to pray with my feet.

My mom believed in serving community.  She chaired Hadassah’s women’s health conferences with her friend, Sima.  She helped found Shalom School. She helped her friend Liz with the Central Valley Holocaust Education Network. She supported efforts to instill Jewish identity in youth. She volunteered at the archives of Bnai Israel and other places.  She was a doer who left a legacy.

Mom was an extraordinary teacher who found a way to each student’s heart.  She was an innovator who pioneered integrated curricula. There was a pencil holder on her table that said: “You don’t just teach, you inspire.”  That was my mom.  My favorite part of being a rabbi is teaching.  My mom had an amazing emotional intelligence.  She was people smart, something I hope I have learned from her.

My mom was creative and artistic.  I love that we found many of the invitations she made for family weddings, Bnai Mitzvah and other celebrations. Her artwork makes our house a home.  She taught us to take care of our health.  She was doing aerobics and yoga before it was popular. We have fun memories of attending classes with her.

There is so much to praise about my mom. She was a wonderful, extraordinary woman.  At the bookstore last Sunday, she insisted on buying me a birthday gift.  I chose Anne Lamott’s new book called Somehow - Thoughts of Love.  How fitting that her final gift to me summarized her impact, a life of love.  Here’s a quote: “One day at a time, and somehow one hour at a time, love will be enough to see us through, get us back on our feet and dust us off. Love gives us a shot at being the person we were born to be.” My mom gave me the love that helped me become the person I am meant to be.  I can’t think of a better tribute.  I will miss her. May she rest in peace.