I’m saddened to announce the passing of my friend, mentor and predecessor at New London Synagogue, Rabbi Reuven Hammer. Reuven was diagnosed with a brain tumour earlier in the year and has passed away in Jerusalem. He was a giant of Masorti Judaism in both the States and Israel. And the fact that he wasn’t a giant in this country speaks only more highly of a remarkable man and wonderful Rabbi.
Reuven studied for Rabbinic ordination and gained a PhD in Midrash at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. He served as a congregational Rabbi at Rodef Shalom and Beth Hillel and published a number of both scholarly and more popular works, becoming President of the International Rabbinical Assembly – the ‘trade union’ of 1,500 Masorti Rabbis worldwide.
His proudest claim, however, is of being a founder of the Israeli Masorti Movement. As a scholar, popular teacher and leader, he gave the nascent Israeli Masorti movement a depth and courage it needed to begin to make its mark in Israel – a country he and his wife Rachel loved deeply. He published prolifically; his most well-known books are Entering Jewish Prayer (about which Louis wrote ‘Reuven Hammer has achieved brilliantly what many thought impossible – an inspirational guide to Jewish devotion wedded to impeccable scholarship’) and Entering the High Holydays. He wrote for the Jerusalem Post and combined his popular work with more scholarly endeavour, serving as a member of both the Israeli and the American Committee on Jewish Law and Standards. Perhaps his most important legal contribution is the 1992 responsum written in support of the ordination of women by the Israeli Masorti Seminary, Machon Schechter.
Following the retirement of Rabbi Louis Jacobs, Reuven accepted an invitation to serve as interim-Rabbi at New London. It was a difficult time for the community, with membership dwindling and some suggesting we had no future. Reuven did far more than steady the ship. He gave the community confidence in its future. He lifted our heads up and calmed un-easiness. His initial contract was for a year, and we turned to him to extend for a second year, but Reuven never sought to build the community in his own image. He was a perfect interim Rabbi, confident, warm-hearted and able to cut through seemingly impenetrable barriers to a future without causing distress. He loved to teach about Israel, he loved to teach about Rabbi Akiva (about whom he published a wonderfully readable book). I remember well the Rabbinic retreat where a number of colleagues shared Torah and I was struck at the depth of his scholarship regarding a tiny point of detail in the Amidah – he could teach the general public and the scholar with equal insight. He also succeeded in that most challenging role of rabbinic leadership – finding and supporting his successor. I loved Reuven and owe him a great deal. In the months when I was thinking of applying to New London, always tempted, but intimidated and nervous, he provided great wisdom, never over-playing his hand, but always letting me know I had his support. He made me feel I could do this. I think of Reuven often, valued my time with him dearly and mourn his passing.
Reuven exuded a joy. It’s what drew so many to him as Rabbi. But, as much as he loved our faith and tradition, I think the real source of this joie de vivre was Rachel. They were a tremendous team. So obviously in love, even as they celebrated anniversary after anniversary. Together they took unbounded delight in their family, collecting, marking, noting each grandchild, and great-grandchild, their birthdays and their achievements.
I remember being in the pews as Reuven, as Rabbi, shared a MiSheberach with a member celebrating what we refer to as a ‘special birthday.’ He shared the concluding verses of the Psalm for Shabbat, ‘The righteous will flourish like a palm tree, still bearing fruit in old age, still fresh and full of sap.’ I’ve often borrowed those verses in blessing others, but they certainly applied to Reuven, well into his 80s.
‘Entering Jewish Prayer’ concludes with a chapter on Rites of Mourning. “When confronted by death,” he wrote, “especially of those with whom we had special ties of love, we need not be told what do in order to mourn. What need is there, then, for rites of mourning, for special words to say and actions to take? Would we not be better off simply expressing ourselves spontaneously or experiencing these feelings within?” He goes on to share this answer, “Yet there are times when the grief remains so deep inside that it finds insufficient outward expression and cannot be dealt with in a way that helps the bereaved to find his or her way back to the path of living. The Jewish tradition has evolved a liturgy of mourning that permits the expression of natural feelings and yet channels them into the process of healing. As a religious tradition, it endeavours to help the mourner place the experience of grief in the context of belief.” “Perhaps,” the chapter ends, “our suffering – and the death of a beloved person is a source of great suffering – causes us to question and not merely to accept passively what has happened. Our belief is called into question, our concept of God becomes problematic, yet reflection enables us to come to terms not merely with reality, but with our values. At the end, we may find ourselves able to say the same traditional words that we have questioned. Yet their meaning is not exactly what it was prior to this experience. Now we can find a source of strength in their new and deeper meaning at a time when it is badly needed. Even at such a moment, we reaffirm value and meaning. With all the doubts and hesitations we have, we bless the name of the Lord.”
I share my deepest prayers for comfort and consolation with Rachel and all the family. May Reuven’s name always be for a blessing.
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