To Lose Memory But Not Be Erased (Beshalach 5778)

This week I want to focus on memory. I am especially drawn to memory this week because it is the 2nd anniversary of my mom's death and the 20th anniversary of my dad's. On the Hebrew calendar, they died exactly 18 years and 1 day apart. I dedicate this week's post to their memories.*

In this week's Torah portion, there is a first of its kind mitzvah (divine exhortation) involving memory. In the Torah narrative up until now, there have been people remembering places or things that God did to help us. But this week for the first time there is a mitzvah for people to remember a person. The stage is set for this new type of memory with the dramatic parting and crossing of the sea as Moses and the ancient Israelite slaves are running from their Egyptian pursuers. Safely across the wilderness journey begins. 

Early in this journey, the Israelites are attacked by Amalek and his tribe. A fierce battle follows, which the Israelites win. Then, Torah instructs us to remember Amalek by writing his name . . . which God will erase from existence. (Exodus 14:17). This is the first time in Torah when we are told to remember a particular person. Just to observe the name being erased!?! What good is a recorded memory if it can so swiftly be erased?

A story about memory and erasing it …

Almost ten years ago this winter on an icy day in Maine, a Reform rabbi, Alice Goldfinger, slipped on ice outside her synagogue. Her brain crashed into her
skull and Rabbi Goldfinger suffered a traumatic brain injury, which severely and permanently affected her short-term memory. It impaired her ability to read, to drive, and, most of all, to remember.  

Without her memory, she had to give up her active rabbinate. It was just one of many losses she suffered after the injury. For example, if she wants to remember what she did a few days ago or who she was with, she has to use the memory of her iPhone to tell her. She can’t remember on her own. She calls her iPhone “the brain I no longer have.” It reminds her what to do, even when to eat. Few knew how to help her. Her congregation didn't know how and she lost her job. 

Lacking short-term memory was a huge struggle. As she tried adjusting to her life without memory and without a job, her mother’s yahrzeit (anniversary of death) approached. The yahrzeit is traditionally marked at the synagogue by reciting a prayer, the Kaddish. Goldfinger was not comfortable going back for Kaddish to the shul that let her go. But a local, modern Orthodox colleague, Rabbi Akiva Herzfeld remembered Alice and reached out to her. 

Alice had no memory, but she was not forgotten. 

Herzfeld knew of her wanting to say kaddish, so he invited her to his shul. It is rare for a Reform rabbi to pray in an Orthodox synagogue and visa versa. Still, Herzfeld extended himself beyond his comfort zone. He worked on having empathy trying to imagine what he would want if their positions were reversed. He reported later, “I tried to imagine what it would be like for me to be a female Reform rabbi. I thought, what if I were her and she was me? … I would want him to ask me to lead services,” said Herzfeld. That's just what he did. 

Herzfeld invited Goldfinger to lead a particular Friday night service at his synagogue. It was a part of the service that some people believe is okay for a woman to lead. But having a woman lead even this part of the service in an Orthodox synagogue is very rare, not at all expected. 

Herzfeld confirmed this, "I want you to know that I do not believe women should lead worship with men present. But one of us had to be uncomfortable. Why should it be [her] and not me?” With those words and the generous gesture of authentically opening his shul to her, Rabbi Akiva embraced Rabbi Alice's heart. Rabbi Alice later said, “he couldn’t repair my broken brain, but brought healing to my broken heart.”

My take away from this is to work harder this week remembering those of my friends who might otherwise feel forgotten; remembering those parts of their lives that others might ignore. Then to ask myself what I can do to help bring healing to their spirit -- letting them know they are not forgotten. What can I do that might be a little uncomfortable for me, but will bring great comfort to someone else. As Rabbi Herzfeld said, "if one of us has to be uncomfortable, why shouldn't it be me?!?"

Here are the links for more about, Rabbi Goldfinger and Rabbi Herzfeld

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*Rolla & Gerald Ruben, of Blessed Memory