Dear Friends,
There are two declarations hanging on the south wall across from Shahrzad’s desk in the main office, one commemorating the twenty-fifth anniversary of our congregation’s founding, the other our fiftieth anniversary, each signed by members who were present at the respective celebrations. Hanging between them are six photographs of buildings our congregation occupied in the course of our history. Most of the signatures on the earlier declaration have faded, while the ones on the latter are lightening. As for the buildings, only a handful of us can recall any ‘home’ before Willow Street in Roslyn, which was our address when I came to the congregation in the summer of 1981. What had been the gym/cafeteria/auditorium became our sanctuary, which was just right for Shabbat services, but too small for the High Holidays. We rented space at the Unitarian Fellowship on Plandome Road for Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur at the beginning of my tenure. I never imagined then that Plandome Road would become our address a dozen years later.
We graduated to new venues for the High Holidays, which included Adelphi University and New York Tech prior to our move to Plandome. What was constant in those years of wandering were us, the members of our congregation, and Michael Kligfeld who served as our cantor for the Yomim Noraim. We had no canter at that time. It was the rabbi accompanied by Sam Blumenthal on the piano who led the congregation in song every Shabbat. But the leading of services for the High Holidays required a person who was trained in hazzanut who could sing their way through the vocal marathon. Dr. Michael Kligfeld – Mike to all of us – a psychiatrist whose work was with children and their families, was our guy for decades. Mike had a profound commitment to and love for Judaism and the Jewish People. Judy Eisenstein had trained him to be the voice of the Holidays. His annual trek from Connecticut with his wife Caryl and, in the early days, with his children Jennifer and Adam was something we all looked forward to. A soulful tenor who was Hebraically knowledgeable, Mike communicated the meaning of the prayers without having to read a translation. Though my senior in age and in his tenure with the congregation and much beloved by all, Mike insisted on deferring to me as the rabbi of the congregation. That’s not to say that he ever hesitated to give me what-for after my address, but it was never in earshot of any member of the congregation. I always felt honored that he was listening.
I learned about Mike’s death a fortnight ago. Mike had succumbed to a recurrence of a virulent form of lymphoma over which he miraculously triumphed twenty years ago, I write about Mike, a largely unknown ancestor in our congregation’s history, for the same reason we hang the declarations of our anniversaries in the office even as the names of those who were present continue to fade. It’s to show that our congregation is comprised of people who come for a while to contribute to generations that they will never know, generations that will not know them by name but will benefit from their long-ago efforts. We all fade into a collectivity that is greater than the sum of our parts. That’s the Jewish way, isn’t it? That’s what we mean when we talk about the unity of the Jewish People and about our eternality.
This lesson was brought home again when I heard about the death of Charli Golden a few days ago. Charli and Elliot along with their three daughters were active members of our schul before their move to Florida almost a decade ago. Charli did what she could to bring art and justice to our community by engaging in social action projects and by enriching our after-school program. Her skills and her enthusiasm to be part of this community, which she and her family so treasured, are a part of who we were and who we continue to be.
Let’s all rejoice in contributing to the ALL of us. Let us remember the Mikes and the Charlis who can be counted as community ancestors on whom RSNS been built.
With deep appreciation,
Rabbi Lee
