This post is dedicated in memory of Shlomo ben Aryeh Zalman. May it be an aliyah for his neshama.
By Elisheva Maline
Parshast Bamidbar, the fourth book in
the holy scriptures, begins with Hashem (G-d) instructing Moshe to,
“Take a census of the entire assembly of the children of Israel
according to their families and according to their father's house
(i.e. lineage)” (Numbers 1:2).
Jews, as Rabbi Leib Kelemen so
eloquently put it, are kings at keeping track of the teacher to
student turned teacher to student relationships chaining down through
the centuries. They're also careful to give credit where credit is
due, heaping honor upon donors who magnanimously opened their pockets
to worthy causes like yeshivot (institutions for the increase in
talmud and gemara studies), girls' schools, orphanages, non-profits
etc. etc. by placing written records of their charitable actions in
public places.
Not much has changed since our forty
year stint in the desert. Just as G-d determinedly kept track of each
and every Jew numerous times, counting us like a money hungry man
lovingly looking over each and every coin in his treasury, we're
still keeping track of our more than 3,000 year old lineage.
If you haven't experienced either of
the above suggestions as legitimate, just flip open to the
introduction in the sefer closest at hand; it'll give you a brief
history of the author's life as well as who his influences and
teachers were. Then, look for that teacher's sefer and then look for
his teacher's sefer etc. until you date it all the back... You can
also take a stroll to your local synagogue or religious institution:
they're usually peppered with the plaques and/or public
commemorations of their donors.
Solid evidence of our good deeds are
not the only monuments which encourage the warm and fuzzy feelings
that we're a close nit group looking out for one another. Statistics
say that Jews make up less than one percent of the world population;
that kind of number could inspire, not surprisingly, a powerful bond
between brothers. Us clan members gotta stick together. I once
experienced this truth on a very concrete level when an Arab
Christian from the north of Israel asked me what it was like being
Jewish in America. At the time, I was volunteering in a pluralist
organization for adults with mental disabilities and my workplace
kowtowed to people, worker as well as clientele, of all stripes and
colors. Mystified by the question, I asked Kiara what she meant about
'what it's like being Jewish in America?'. In a heavily accented
English, she replied, “Do you know the Jews where ever you go?”
Disarmed by her curiosity, I answered
honestly that no, Jews did not instantly recognize Jews from far
flung states as brothers and sisters or long lost relatives but –
and I made sure she understood that I was speaking for myself and not
the entire nation when I added this – but I did feel a strong
connect with whomever I discovered was of my ethnicity. There's an
understanding there that goes deeper than words. And like all things,
the more emotionally and spiritually connected one is with his
national history, the stronger the bond between people who share the
same history. “Also, part of that bond has to do with something we
call Jewish geography,” I went on to explain. “Although I may not
know the particular person I'm speaking to, if we go at it long
enough, we'll discover a friend or relative in common.”
I was surprised by Kiara's response:
the expression on her face was beatific. She smiled so happily at the
idea and looked so charmed that I was affected. For one of the first
times, I felt how lucky I was to be born into what I can only refer
to as family.
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