Remembering Rabbi Dow Marmur z”l

Remembering Rabbi Dow Marmur z”l

By Rabbi John Moscowitz, Rabbi Emeritus

The young Dow Marmur emerged from the ravages of mid-century Europe, just ten years old when the War ended, but already on his way to becoming a largely self constructed man— one who bore, both on his face and within his soul, the tragedies and triumphs of the Twentieth century.

For even at the beginning, even while within the clutches of the Soviets, but especially once in Sweden, Dow was amongst those determined to put back the broken pieces, both personal and communal. He would do so on three continents  — and, invariably, with substance and clarity of purpose, for that was Dow’s way.

No surprise that soon enough he would earn a place among the generation’s leading rabbis.

This well constructed life because, once having escaped the Whirlwind, Dow Marmur was hardly about survival alone—“Beyond Survival” was his consciously chosen path, a worldview in fact, decades before it was an early book title.

How did Dow construct a unique life? And how exactly did he put his imprint on a post Holocaust Jewish world?

Permit this suggestion of three primary factors: His drive, relentless but measured, a drive possibly born of being a child catapulted into the abyss, and subsequently intent on making meaning of the chaos; second, his orderly and probing mind, one honed by books and teachers and reflection;  and, perhaps, most of all, by the love of a beautiful young woman, one Fredzia Zonabend, whose devotion made a refugee almost at home in the world, a world soon enough made more whole by Fredzia and Dow’s children and grandchildren

It’s not an oversimplification to suggest that Dow’s biography was his Torah. Yes, he taught philosophy and theology in a Jewish key. And, to be sure, Dow Marmur learned the sources, invariably employing them with panache. But he was a reader and thinker before he was a darshan.

Regardless, the Torah of Dow Marmur was written black on white and within the spaces of a world gone mad, now to be put right, in part, by Dow’s highly ordered mind and learning.

And, after all, this was a serious man. No phony put-on, cheery stuff. For, unlike many rabbinic colleagues, Dow refused to smile when that wasn’t called for.  He wasn’t, as he was wont to remind us, “an American”.

So, upon my own arrival in Toronto in the late eighties, when one day someone criticized me for my lack of smiling from the bima, saying “My God, you remind me of Marmur!”—-nothing brought a bigger smile to my face, and even more so to his, when I told this to Dow!

I’ve said three factors made a young Polish Jewish refugee into a loving husband and father, and an effective rabbi.

But, there was a fourth matter, perhaps the most important one. One that Dow held paramount, though he didn’t necessarily speak about it all that much— even as he was daily familiar with its ironies and unpredictable nature

He wrote almost in passing in his memoir that it was Divine Providence— unpredictable, unfathomable, but real— that brought Dow’s survival and that of his parents.

And thus was born— or perhaps, was made—a believing Jew, and one who would live that faith without ever showing it off.

Finally, this: It’s no secret that Dow Marmur wasn’t always easy; he could be quite critical, including of his colleagues. But it’s also the case that his colleagues, and I’d guess about most everyone else, esteemed him so that we sought his approval—and shrunk some when that wasn’t forthcoming.

Consider that the first couple times I read Torah in his presence, let’s just say that I made a couple of mistakes; Let’s even say that it was more than that.

After the second time, Dow, in pretty typical fashion, tore into me: “ Don’t embarrass yourself, don’t expose your weakness— from now on I’ll do it!”

That wasn’t going to happen. Assigning Torah readings beyond the B’nai Mitzvah and such was my job,  and from then on, I would take the opportunity to get it right— and along the way to prove the Boss wrong.

So I kept assigning the extra readings to myself. Three years or so went by, several dozen Torah readings, with nary a mistake.

Neither one of us said a word about it— until one Shabbat morning, I got one word wrong. Once the Torah service was done, unhappy with myself, I’m now seated back next to Dow. After several moments I turn to him and say, “The word was tsuvaiti wasn’t it?”

Dow smiles and says, “It was, but I must say you do that awfully well.”

You see, as much as anything, Dow Marmur was about redemption— and not just theological, but also personal. Generous man that he was, Dow thrilled to the success of others, that of his colleagues  and congregants, his friends and family.

For in the end, as in the beginning, Dow Marmur was a living reminder of God’s salvific , if mysterious, ways. Dow Marmur’s death does not obscure this truth from us; it actually reinforces what our teacher’s life was about.

The Book of Judges teaches that, especially those who’ve known affliction often become “Those who love God (and)are like the Sun rising in power.” ( Shoftim 5:31)

Dow Marmur’s Sun rose in power for near nine decades, and we can now have faith that its light will not soon wane.

Because, after all, that, too, is the meaning—mysterious, real and potent as it is—of “Beyond Survival”.

John Moscowitz
September 11, 2022