Yesterday evening, as I was preparing for a Shiur on the Parsha, I came across a lecture delivered by Rabbi Avraham A Weingort. The Jerusalem based Rav, is also a scholar, teaching in a Paris University. The topic of his lecture was totally unrelated to my Shiur, but I was somehow attracted to read it. Here it is :
Rav Weingort starts by saying that he was asked by a resident of the town of Modiin to deliver a lecture on the topic of “Kibbud Av v’Eim – Honoring our parents”. During the course of the lecture, Rav Weingort reminded his audience of an incident that had occurred decades earlier in Berlin. Since there is nothing like a good story to concretize an idea, he related the story in the middle of his shiur.
The synagogue in question, in Berlin, was filled to capacity during the High Holy Days. For many members of Berlin’s Jewish community, this was the one and only time that they entered the holy sanctuary of a shul to pray. While prayer was not part of their daily ritual, Yom Kippur was a special day in which many secular and even assimilated jews, attended Shul. On Yom Kippur, Rabbi Dr J J Weinberg, the famous dean of the Hildesheimer Rabiner Seminar, would walk the long distance from his home to the synagogue. He wanted to be united on that day with the large community.
The service was in accordance with tradition, adhering to all of the customs of the Berlin community. It was a solemn worship service, since, after all, it was Yom Kippur.
Some time in the afternoon came that unique moment when the gabbai called out, “Yizkor!” The time had come for reciting the prayer memorializing the dead. The young people, whose parents were alive, made their way to the exits. This was a time when the senior members of the shul, those who had sustained the loss of parents, were to be alone, to pray for the deceased and be inspired by the temporal nature of life.
The doors to the sanctuary were closed, and the prayer of Yizkor was about to begin when suddenly a government limousine pulled up to shul. In front of the limousine rode two police motorcycles . The doors to the limousine were opened and out stepped Walther Rathenau, the Foreign Minister of the Weimar Republic. He was one of the most powerful statesmen of the German government. (He was assassinated on June 24, 1922 in an act of violent murder which many believe was the result of anti-Semitism due to his Jewish heritage.) The minister walked up the steps of the synagogue and entered the sanctuary. It was Yizkor. He was here to recite Kaddish and the prayer service for his Jewish parents.
A small tumult broke out in the shul. Some of the regular members were protesting: “How dare he arrive on this holiest day of the Jewish calendar year with his motorcade parked just outside the Shul”?
Walther Rathenau did not notice or care much about what some people might have been whispering. He was the Foreign Minister – a Jew like everyone else in the synagogue. He wanted to recite the prayer for his parents. It was as simple as that. As soon as he concluded his prayer, he left the synagogue, went to the limousine and was driven off.
The worshippers were in a furor. The chutzpah, nerve, of this apostate Jew: To come by car and publicly desecrate the holiest day of the year was an outrage! He had profaned Yom Kippur and humiliated the Jewish community. The chazzan, cantor, ascended to the lectern and was about to begin Tefilat Musaf, when suddenly Rabbi Dr Weinberg left his seat and
walked up to the lectern and asked everyone to be seated. A lull fell over the entire assemblage. Not a sound was heard, as everyone sat quietly to listen to the Rav.
“Rabbosai! My friends,” the Rav began, “how does it enter your minds to shame a Jew who came to shul to honor his parents? The man had no ulterior motive, other than a sincere desire to pay his respects to his departed parents.” The Rav was silent for a moment, and then he raised his voice, declaring, “Anyone who honors the memory of his parents is assured that at some stage and time, the family will return to the embrace of the Jewish people!”
With these words, Rabbi Dr Weinberg returned to his seat, and the Musaf service commenced. His words impacted the worshippers. No one would ever forget what the Rav had said.
Rav Weingort concluded the story and waited to see how it would impact the audience that had sat on edge to listen to him. Suddenly, one of the members of the audience stood up and asked to be recognised. The man was actually shaking, as he asked Rav Weingort, “The Foreign Minister about whom the Rav is speaking was my great-uncle! The parents for which he said Yizkor – were my great grandparents!” When asked how it occurred that he, the member of the totally assimilated family Rathenau, was orthodox, he explained that his grandfather became an observant Jew and subsequently went to live in an orthodox village in Israel….
Rav Weinberg’s words rang true.
For some reason – I checked the Hebrew date in which Rathenau was murdered – 24 June 1922. To my surprise, it was the very day I read the story.- 28th of SivanBy what seemed a coincidence – I came across this r emarkable story, on the yahrzeit of this man, who came to Shul on Yom Kippur to say Kaddish for his parents… So I decided to say Kaddish for him on the same day – for the Neshama of “Walther ben Emil”.
Warm regards, Shabbat Shalom and Chodesh tov!
Rabbi Chaim Michael Biberfeld