I want to begin
where I left off at a talk I gave on Wednesday – on the eve of Yom HaShaoh, the
day in the year when we, as Jewish communities across the world, recognise and
memorialise the genocidal murder of our people under Nazi rule only a blink of
an eye ago. I ended my talk with a tale told by Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, Carlebach’s
a complex figure, but I think it’s a really important story, especially for
today.
Carlebach
tells his story that he was wandering through the streets of Tel Aviv and he
sees a man, bent over, a hunchback, sweeping the streets. And he wonders what there
might be to learn from such a person. So he goes over, and he gets closer to
the man he sees on his forearm the tattoos of a man who was imprisoned in a
concentration camp by the Nazis. So he asks the man, where are you from,.
And the man
responds, From Piaseczno.
Now for Carlebach
– for me also, there is a certain magic in the name of this small Shtetl about
16 km South of Warsaw. It’s the home of one of the greatest inspirations for
me, especially in a week like this, when I want to find a way to remember, to
mourn and find a way to go on in the aftermath of the Holocaust. Piaseczno was
the home of Rabbi Kalonymous Kalman Shapira – the Piaseczno Rebbe. Now before
the Nazis invaded Poland, before all the awfulness that was to come, the Piaseczno
Rebbe was already known as a great teacher and scholar and specifically a great
teacher of younger children. And the Nazis invaded Poland, and the Piaseczno
Rebbe, like so many others, was driven into the Warsaw Ghetto. And here is
where he becomes more than a great teacher and scholar and specifically a great
teacher of younger children. It’s here that the Piaseczno Rebbe becomes a hero.
In the
Ghetto Reb Kalonymous serves as a Rabbi – he’s better known as the Rebbe of the
Warsaw Ghetto - and he teaches, week in
and week out in circumstances that are, for me, for all of us, beyond belief.
He had to get up and give a sermon that gave people hope, and comfort in a
place that seemed empty of hope and was certainly empty of comfort. Eventually the
Warsaw Ghetto Rebbe was deported and taken to his the death, but amazingly his
teachings, these brave, beautiful words that he hurled against the wickedness
of his time, somehow escaped the clutches of the Nazis. In the aftermath of World
War Two, when Warsaw was being rebuilt a construction worker came across a
container buried in the earth. Inside were manuscripts in Hebrew letters. So
the worker took the container to the Jewish Historical where the following was
read;
Attention – Aufmeerkzam
By the grace of God, I respectfully
request the honoured individual that find my following writings – sermons on
the weekly portion given between 1939-1942 to be as so kind to take the trouble
to forward them to the land of Israel at the following address, Rabbi Isaiah
Shapira, Tel Aviv, Palestine. Please send this letter as well. When, with God’s
compassion I and the remaining Jews will survive the war, I request that
everything be returned to me or to the Warsaw Rabbinate. May God have mercy on
us, the remnanet of Israel, wherever we may be. May God spare us, grant us life
and save us in the twinkling of an eye.
With thanks from the depths of my heart,
With thanks from the depths of my heart,
Kalonymous.
And, after
the war, after the establishment of the State of Isarel, the teachings are
collected, translated into Hebrew, and published. I love this collection. It contains
some of the powerful attempts to speak to people in places of pain and
suffering that it is possible to imagine.
And Shlomo
Carlebach knew these teachings and that’s why hearing the name of the town,
where the street-cleaner grew up struck him so.
Did you, perhaps,
Shlomo asked the man, Did you, when growing up in Piaseczna ever know Reb Kalonymous
Kalman Shapira?
Of course I
knew him, came the response. I was one of his students, before the war, before
all this. Before the war I was a strong young man, so strong that the Nazi beat
and beat me, and that is why I am now so bent over, and broken.
And can you,
what might you be able to tell me about the Torah you learnt the Rebbe, was
there anything he taught you that you could pass on to me?
I don’t
remember much, said the street-cleaner. I remember the atmosphere, how
wonderful it was, and his kindness, how special he made us all feel. But I don’t
remember much of the content. Only this. There was one thing the Rebbe would
always say at the end of his teachings. He would always end by saying this,
Hadavar
Hachi Gadol BaOlam Laasot Tovah L’Mishehu Acher.
The very
greatest thing in the world is to do something good for another person.
He would
always end his teaching with this.
And the streetcleaner
continued to tell his story. He had been deported from Piasescna and taken to Auschwitz,
and one night had felt so desperate about his lot, that he thought of taking
his own life. And as he stood and looked out at the barbed wire of the camp he
remembered the teaching of his Rebbe.
Hadavar
Hachi Gadol BaOlam Laasot Tovah L’Mishehu Acher.
The very
greatest thing in the world is to do something good for another person.
And he
decided to find someone for whom to perform at Tovah – a good thing, a kindness.
Do you know,
he said, how many ways there are to do something good for another person in
Auschwitz?
So many
people who wanted someone to talk to, someone to share in their pain.
And it’s
still true, the man continued.
Do you know,
he said, how many ways there are to do something good for another person while
sweeping the streets of Tel Aviv?
There’s something
very special for me to be able to share this story today, on a Shabbat when we
mark Yom HaShoah, and when we mark, William, the contribution of your family to
the rescue, from the Nazis of the extraordinary Czech Memorial Scrolls.
Scrolls
whose every letter teaches us
Hadavar
Hachi Gadol BaOlam Laasot Tovah L’Mishehu Acher.
The very
greatest thing in the world is to do something good for another person.
VeAhavta L’Reacha
Camocha – we’ll read that verse next week.
You shall
love your fellow as you love yourself. Rabbi Akiva said that that verse was the
very essence of the entire Torah.
It’s all
about how you treat other people.
Now William,
you are a younger sibling, so I know you know exactly how annoying other people
can be. Actually we all know how annoying other people can be. And I don’t just
mean your sister. But here’s a thing.
What if the
other people we meet in our lives, even the very annoying ones, were
opportunities for us to the most important thing in the world?
I mean, the
remarkable thing about this piece of Torah that comes fluttering down through
time, the remarkable thing about this teaching of Reb Kalonymous is that it’
actually not hard.
Let me say something
about that Hebrew word, Tovah – the most important thing is to do a Tovah for
someone else.
The word
comes from the word – Tov – good. You can’t really translate it perfectly – to do
a Tovah is to give a moment to see what the other person needs, and find a way
to be the response to that need – what do most of us need? A chance to feel
connection, to feel listened to, to feel appreciated.
It’s an
amazing thing to do a Tovah for someone else. It changes them, it changes you.
And on the other side of something even as simple as a Tovah the world is a
better place.
Made incrementally
better each time one person performs a Tovah for another person.
A Tovah might
sound like a small, inconsequential action, but it’s not – it’s the most powerful
way in which we can mend the world, improve the world, and make a world more
fit for our future.
The most
important thing in the world is to do do a Tovah for someone. Reb Kalonymous didn’t say
the most important thing to do in the world was solve the problems of Brexit,
or Climate Change. He didn’t say that you had to make someone else’s problems
disappear in a puff of smoke. He didn’t say that you need to be able to cure
every disease. He said that you need to do a Tovah.
Because here’s
the problem.
We’ve
forgotten the most important thing. We’ve forgotten that we need to lead in
doing good in the world. Most of the time, most of us are waiting around for
someone to do something good for us before we do something good for them. Or we
spend our time looking out at everyone else criticism them, pointing out their
shortfallings and failures and, well seen like that we’ll watch out and keep
waiting and waiting. And in the meantime the world gets more and more broken.
If we want to live in a kinder, more peaceful and happier society it’s not
going to be enough to wait for other people to do good things for us, before we
do good things back to them.
That kind of
life has got us into a place where we are continually judging other people as
not worth the effort.
And the message
that somehow, miraculously, was saved from the Holocaust, is that we need to go
first.
Hadavar
Hachi Gadol BaOlam Laasot Tovah L’Mishehu Acher.
The very
greatest thing in the world is to do something good for another person.
If we go out
into the world, whether it be the streets of Tel Aviv, or St Johns Wood, and
look for opportunities to do these acts of Tovah we will build a future for
ourselves and our children that, please God, will never know the destruction of
the century now passed. If we go out into the world and look for opportunities
to do these acts of Tovah, we can build a world of kindness and goodness. A
world we would all wish to live in,
Shabbat
Shalom
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