Eulogy for Temple Warden, David Hart z”l

By Rabbi Yael Splansky

December 28, 2020 / 13 Tevet, 5781

“Uma’asei yadeinu kon’nah aleinu.  Uma’asei yadeinu kon’neihu.”

            “May the work of our hands endure for us, O God. May the work of our hands endure.”                                                                                                              (From Psalm 90)

David was a Scout Master.  His life was shaped by the scouts’ motto: “Be prepared” and by the scouts’ oath: “To develop myself to so that I may better love and serve my God, respect and help my fellowman, honour and render services to my country.”

David was a mechanical engineer by training and by profession.  His first job was on the Dominion Bridge.  He designed machinery and molds to create everything from screws to stereos.  But his true vocation was volunteering.

David was playing catch with young Murray on the front lawn one day when a car pulled over and the next thing he knew, David was coaching the Fast Ball League.  It was the biggest thing going in Bathurst Manor in those days.  David tried to get a Girls’ League going, but it didn’t take.

There was hardly a Holy Blossom committee on which David Hart did not serve.  Religious School Committee with Heinz Warshauer, alav HaShalom.  The Social Action Committee with Milton Cadsby, alav HaShalom.  He and Murray helped to sponsor Vietnamese Boat People.  They kept contact with a number of families to this day.  David was Brotherhood President, a labour of love.  Unlike Margaret, Ron, and Jill who sang together in the Choir, David wasn’t much for services.  But he often served as an usher at the main doors to greet the congregation he treasured.  With very deep roots in Canadian Jewish History, David was Chair of the Temple Archives for decades.   I went with him once to our previous Temple on Bond Street.  He lit up like a kid, jumping around the sanctuary, telling stories of his earliest childhood memories of Rabbi Eisendrath and how on Sukkot, all the students would bring baskets of fruit to decorate the bimah.  They would then be donated to the hungry and the poor.  Thanks to David we have one of the original pews of Bond Street on display at Holy Blossom today.

Like his parents before him, David was a very proud Canadian and proud of their early Jewish roots in this country.  This pride and sense of belonging, gave rise to David’s leadership in interfaith work.  For decades, if anyone wanted to know about Interfaith Relations – which at that time meant between Christians and Jews – they’d call Holy Blossom Temple.  And when they called Holy Blossom Temple, the office would call on David Hart.  He believed in grassroots dialogue and arranged for small groups of lay people to meet and learn from one another.  He became the first Jew appointed to the Board of Christian-Jewish Dialogue of Toronto.  With Rabbi Fields, of blessed memory, he helped to lead the first interfaith trip to Israel with Timothy Eaton Church.

Normally, David would highlight the commonalities among the ethical monotheistic religions, but if ever a hint of anti-Semitism came up in conversation, David could be fierce.  Once, when visiting an Anglican Church, he picked up a prayerbook and publicly asked the priest about the page with the prayer calling for the conversion of the Jews.  Just last year, that prayer was officially replaced with a prayer for “Reconciliation with the Jews.”  On the occasion of the 40^th Anniversary of Vatican II, David was awarded by Cardinal Cassidy a special honour for his decades of Interfaith work.

For all these countless contributions to Holy Blossom Temple, David was given the high honour of the title of Temple Warden.  Not long ago, the family brought David to see our completed Renewal Project.  Although it was somewhat disoriented by the changes, David did give his nod of approval and was pleased to catch a glimpse of Holy Blossom’s future.

Just look around this historic cemetery.  David could tell us the history of its purchase and about many of the good and great people who are buried here.  But most importantly, today David is being laid to rest nearby to his parents, Alfred and Minnie, and beside his dear Margaret, who is also remembered this day.

Margaret told the real story of how they met.  She spotted him at a Holy Blossom Singles event.  Her friends told her to keep her distance.  Later, she saw him on the streetcar.  He went to the back where a bunch of younger kids were sitting and in a matter of minutes, he had them playing a game.  Margaret said, “I thought I saw something different in him.”

Perhaps because David was an only child, he loved kids.  Aaron, Michael, and Jessica were the greatest beneficiaries of that love.  Jessica says, “He made each of feel special in our own way.”  Shabbat Dinners began with a treasure hunt of chocolates and hockey cards hidden around their home.  He was expressive with them. He told them how much he loved them.  He came to every graduation, every dance recital, every hockey game.  David kept a jar of two-nies to give to the kids to buy drinks after the hockey games.  Everyone on the team called him Gramps.  There were sleepovers and thousands of hours in the car, driving the kids from here to there to anywhere just to be with them.  He built them two playgrounds in the backyard.  Jessica was the first Hart granddaughter in one hundred years.  David built her a dollhouse and gave her his mother’s Shabbat candlesticks.  David built a rocking horse when Aaron was born and as the oldest, Aaron was entrusted with the family’s metals for service in WWI and WWII.  Michael shared David’s interests in math and science.      David was heartbroken when Michael died.   He created a poster of photographs of Michael for his apartment and spoke of him often.  David admitted that saying goodbye to Michael was the hardest thing he ever had to do.  Murray recalls the poignant words his father spoke at the bedside.  David was the last to leave the room, when Michael called out, “Grandpa!  Thank you.  I love you.”  This family was David’s greatest pride and greatest joy.  May you take comfort in knowing Michael, Margaret, and David are now united in God’s Eternal Presence.

“Be prepared and be of service.”  After his bi-pass surgery, David volunteered to meet with families preparing for the same.  Even after he gave up driving, into his late 80’s and 90’s David would take a cab to go to the downtown hospital volunteer and offer support.

When he could no longer volunteer, David would sometimes wonder what was his purpose.  His sense of self was defined by his contributions of time.  Murray awards his father the title: “Philanthropist of Time.”  Aaron says: “He had faith in humanity.  Assumed the good in people and was willing to confront people when he believed that assumption was being challenged.”

This was a hard end.  Murray and Jill, Aaron and Jessica would have to have their visits with David over the telephone and through the window.  The isolation was painful for everyone.  Ron was the designated family representative.  Ron visited with David every single day until David had to go to the hospital.  Ron would bring him fresh laundry and be David’s constant companion.  Ron, just as you were the family representative there at David’s side for so many months, now Murray is your representative here at the graveside.

David Hart’s life motto was: “Be prepared and be of service.”

So it is the motto of a Jewish life of meaning and sacred purpose:

“Uma’asei yadeinu kon’nah aleinu.  Uma’asei yadeinu kon’neihu.”

“May the work of our hands endure for us, O God. May the work of our hands endure.”                                                                                                               (From Psalm 90)

Zichrono livrachah.  May David’s memory be a blessing for our congregation, for all who loved him, for all who were loved by him.

The Minyan that Wasn’t

Our Torah portion is set to the tense moment when Abraham questions God’s judgement over the future of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.  Our Patriarch stands before God and demands: “Will You sweep away the innocent along with the guilty? What if there should be fifty innocent within the city; will You then wipe out the place and not forgive it for the sake of the innocent fifty who are in it? Far be it from You to do such a thing, to bring death upon the innocent as well as the guilty, so that innocent and guilty fare alike. Far be it from You! Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?”

God agrees to the terms.  “If I find within the city of Sodom fifty righteous ones, I will forgive the whole place for their sake.”

The negotiations continue.  “What if the fifty righteous should lack five? Will You destroy the whole city for want of the five?”

God answers: “I will not destroy if I find forty-five righteous there.”

Abraham: “What if forty?”

What if thirty?

OK.

What if twenty?

OK.

Finally, Abraham asks: “Let not my Lord be angry if I speak but this last time: What if ten should be found there?”

And God answers, “I will not destroy, for the sake of the ten.”

And that is where the negotiations end.  Both God and Abraham seem to agree that ten is the minimum number of good people who can hold a far fallen society together.  Ten, a minyan, is the smallest unit of human goodness that makes a civilization salvageable.  Ten is the remnant strong enough to hold a frayed people together as one fabric.

What are the attributes of that minyan that would have been enough?  What are the qualities of righteousness?  And how do we ensure that we can be counted among them?

As ballots are still being counted across the United States, our neighbours to the South are divided on much more than a political candidate; they are divided on the definition of “righteousness.” There are two different understandings of the reliable minyan; two different visions of who is good and who is trustworthy.  The whole world is watching the debate, not between two men, not between two socio-economic classes, not between established citizen and newcomer, not between black and white, but between two different outlooks, two distinct understandings of who can be counted among the righteous.

In the end, there was no righteous minyan to be found in the city of Sodom.  Our Sages teach that the omniscient God knew that all along, of course.  So why engage in the negotiations with Abraham?  Why indulge his passionate debate?  Because God was training Abraham in the ways of justice.  God was testing Abraham’s resolve, teaching him in how to be hopeful and how to never give up on humanity.

We are descendants of this Abraham.

Let us always be counted in among the minyan that sustains.

Shabbat Shalom.

 

A Post-Election Prayer
By Rabbi Dr. Andrea L. Weiss

No matter what happens, this we know:
we must recalibrate our national compass
and reconfirm what matters most:
“one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
How do we get from here to there?
The Torah guides our way:
It is not enough to “love your neighbor as yourself”;
you must love the stranger as yourself. (Lev. 19:18, 34)
The prophets tell us what to do:
“Let justice roll like water
and righteousness like a mighty stream.” (Amos 5:24)
The Psalms remind us:
“The night may be dark,
but morning always comes.” (Ps 30:6)
May we each do our part
to bring about the dawning of a new day.

“Waters Rising”

The Noah Story, read this week, is the story of civilizations eroding and being washed away.  Who among us sees the waters rising?  Who among us is flooded with anxiety and fear?  Who among us is looking for safe shelter from the threatening storms?

I’ve been reflecting on our congregational experience of the High Holy Days.  It was extraordinary in every way.  Why were thousands drawn to the screen?  Why did some go to such great effort to call the helpline for personal instruction to join in the virtual services?  Why did 439 people take the time to fill out the post-High Holy Day survey to express their feedback and gratitude?  I don’t think it was simple inertia, dictated by the calendar.   I think we were climbing into a kind of ark – two by two, one by one, family by family.

Have you ever looked up at the ceiling of our Main Sanctuary? Every time I look at it now, that’s all I can see – an impressive, hand-crafted container, strong enough to carry us all, wide enough to hold our cargo of heavy hearts laden with heavy prayers while the winds grow more threatening outside.

Society is beginning to splinter.  The wooden beams are beginning to bend.  If we are listening, we can hear them crack under the weight of it all.  The winter storms are brewing now.  There’s no denying it.  So we close our windows and lock our doors and self-isolate as we must, but it’s lonely in our own hiding places.

Upon reflection, I believe we joined in such great numbers throughout the High Holy Days because — just as instinctively as the animals of Noah’s time — we decided it was time to leave our own burrows and caves and to climb onto the ark instead.  Individual needs gave way to a greater collective event.  With a little imagination, we could take spiritual shelter in the Temple and emotional comfort in one another.  We were each a part of something larger.  Our own lives, which had grown smaller, were invited to expand again.  And it felt good – uplifting, important.

As Shabbat Noach is about to begin, please remember that the door to this Temple-ark is always open to you.  You have a standing invitation to take your place among our sacred congregation through prayer, sacred study, purposeful volunteerism, and meaningful connection.  Even now.  Especially now.  No one should have to ride out this storm alone.  We don’t know when the thunder will roll on or when we will be able to come to rest on dry land again.  But God did promise never flood the earth again.  This too shall pass.

Shabbat Shalom.  In honour of Shabbat Noach, all pets are welcome to join us in the Virtual Atrium tomorrow after services.  See you there.  Click here to join us.

In the Final Hours of My Wilting Sukkah

One mitzvah of Sukkot is to “dwell in sukkot;” another is to “rejoice.”  So what if the roof of the sukkah leaks rain into your soup and invites cold wind or mosquitoes to join your festive meal?  What if your festival isn’t so festive because of the threats that come in the “natural world”?   Our Sages teach that the greater mitzvah is to “rejoice” and so you are permitted to go indoors for your festive meal.

The mitzvah challenge, however, is to find a way to rejoice despite such exposure to the elements, to feel the embrace of God’s shelter.  It would be cruel to expect this of a person who is without a home, but for those who are only without a reliable roof for a few days of the year, it is a good lesson.  How to rejoice internally even when the physical world is threatening?  This is the spiritual challenge of this year’s Sukkot, Festival of our Rejoicing.

God’s Sukkah

In Israel, it is common for palm branches to be used for schach (thatching for the roof of the sukkah).  In Canada, pine.  In Indiana, corn stalks.  A California vintner, Benyamin Cantz, uses the old vines from his vinyard.  He asks, if we use the leftovers from our fields and forests for schach, what does God use for the roof of God’s sukkah?  (This playful question is in keeping with the Talmudic inquiry into what is written inside God’s tefillin.  Of course, God doesn’t wear tefillin or sit in a sukkah, but our Sages were willing to go there in their imagination.)

Cantz suggests that perhaps God uses the discarded human sins leftover from the Ten Days of Repentance to cover the room of God’s sukkah.  Nothing goes to waste and nothing is without a purpose.  Even the husks of our transgressions are made holy and given purpose.

This raises another spiritual challenge for this season.  We might ask ourselves:  What human transgressions can be reworked and put towards a positive outcome?  What lessons have humanity learned in recent months?  There are many hard lessons learned in the areas of environmental health, systemic racism, civic engagement, and gender equity.  How can the sins of the past be transformed and reconstructed into a canopy of protection for all?

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach!