Eighth Night of Hanuka

As we had the previous two years, we displayed Avi's hanukia ("menorah") along with the two hanukias that we lit.

Once again, we set up the candles each night in Avi's hanukia.
Once again, the candles remained unlit.

Not a single person yesterday...

...during or after Shabbat morning services mentioned Avi, even though most knew the reason for me chanting the Torah.

Congregants and staff were probably reluctant to talk about Avi, lest they upset Susan, Chana or me.

On the contrary, Susie and I would have welcomed remembrances of Avi.

I recognize that no one who was present yesterday has taken a pastoral counseling or CPE course, either of which would have provided some insights and supervised experience with grief counseling. Such courses are required of rabbinical students in the Reform, Conservative and Reconstructionist movements of Judaism. In the Orthodox world, some institutions like Yeshiva University and Chovevei Torah have requirements, but Haredi yeshivos generally do not.

Clergy who have not taken pastoral counseling o0r CPE are not only short-changing their congregants -- they are short-changing themselves.

The Fifth Night of Hanuka

Tonight is Avi's Hebrew birthday.

Exactly five years ago this morning, we marked Avi's bar mitzvah.

Avi led Shacharit and read the special Chanuka reading from the Torah. Two days later, Shabbat, he chanted the weekly Torah portion, Mikketz, the portion for the final day of Chanuka, the haftarah for the second Shabbat of Chanuka, and Musaf.

As I have the previous two years, I will read Avi's Torah portion.

Avi knew enough to teach at my night school.

I got a preview tonight of an upcoming course in Web design.  Avi had HTML, the primary language of Web design, mastered; he could have taught the class.  

He would have wizzed through as a student in the other courses, especially network security.

And, I bet that he even would have done his homework!

But...  

What a waste...

Avi would have been 18 years old today.

Rabbi Adler's Eulogy

I noticed that the original link on the right to the eulogy no longer works. Rabbi Adler's eulogy is no longer among the Beth David website files. So, until I create a new link, I'm posting the text without the Hebrew here.

When Avi and his family celebrated his bar mitzvah, the parsha was Miketz; and it began with the words “And it was at the end of two years”. Today is another miketz in the saga of the Lapidus family and the spiritual journey of their beloved Avi; but today we translate the words as “it was at the end of too few years”.

The outpouring of love, affection and concern for Avi and his family is one that will be remembered long after the wounds of pain begin to heal. Every single one of us is here today with many more questions than answers, knowing that the answers will remain forever elusive; yet we are gathered as a community that has chosen to stick together, cry together and support one another.

Little did any of us ever think that we would live to experience the lesson taught several times over across the Talmud. It is the tragic story of a boy who was walking with his father among the trees. The father saw a nest with eggs and asked his son to climb carefully to retrieve the eggs. In the fulfillment of that one request, the boy was given the opportunity to fulfill two commandments for which the Torah provides the explicit rewards of arichut yamim and tovat yamim, length of days and goodness of days. One mitzvah was that of kibud av v’eim (honoring one’s parents), the other was shiluach hakan (shooing a mother bird away from her nest before snatching her eggs or her chicks). Before the boy could complete his tasks, he fell from the tree and expired on impact. When the rabbis came during Shiva to console the grieving parents, the father quoted the verses and demanded an explanation.

The rabbis replied that the goodness of days and the length of days was a reference to the world to come, Olam Habaah. Rightfully and emotionally, the father challenged the rabbis. My family’s pain is here and now, Olam Hazeh. Don’t preach to me about Olam Habaah. How do we console a family in our midst, a family we love, a family that has just experienced one of life’s worst nightmares?

Some people need 120 years to accomplish their work on earth, there are others who need very little time. Who could have known that Avi Lapidus was one of those gifted souls who could accomplish in fifteen years what others cannot accomplish in 120? He was his mother’s absent minded professor. On his face he always wore a smile; yet, one could never know for sure whether it was laughter or mischief that was dancing in his eyes. One thing was for sure, though. When he walked into shul on a Shabbat morning, he went around the sanctuary, smiling and wishing everyone a “Shabbat Shalom”.

His most precious possessions were his Kiddush cup, and the computer that he built from scratch. His personal website, that he was designing on his own, from scratch, will live on his computer as tesimony to his inquisitive sense of perseverance. He was the little brother who was determined to prove himself and earn his place. His place was right next to his father, every Shabbat they davened side-by-side. Avi enjoyed math and Judaic studies; and I knew that I was in for a “stump the rabbi” question when Avi would come to Friday night services with a volume of Talmud under his arm.

A requirement for every student at the Hebrew High School is to perform a certain number of community service hours every year. Avi’s favorite venue to volunteer was the Hebrew Home. It gave him a sense of purpose and he believed that his time was making positive differences in the lives of the residents.

His last outing before he got too sick to leave his home was to Sunday morning minyan to be the tenth man. There was a worshipper who needed to recite Kaddish; and even though Avi was already not feeling great, he came out to make that Kaddish possible. Now, it is the community’s responsibility to Avi to be there for him with kindness and holiness.

On the morning of Avi’s bar mitzvah, Jay addressed the congregation as he spoke to Avi. “Avi, you don’t have to grow up knowing how to interpret dreams; but let those who are impressed with your synagogue skills, intelligence and sense of humor come to be impressed as well with your ‘wisdom of derech eretz.” You’ve acquired a deep love of Judaism and mitzvot. The ‘wisdom of derech eretz’ requires you to share your Jewish knowledge with others humbly and respectfully.”

In his final act of humanity, Avi has indeed taught us with humility and dignity. He accepted his fate with submission and at peace. He has taught parents and children to hug a little tighter. He has taught all of us to value every day because we simply cannot know what tomorrow may bring. He leaves parents who begin a search for answers, a brother and sister who are mourners at much too young an age, grand parents who deserve better, a family that has rallied, school mates who did not realize until yesterday how much they loved him; and a community that has responded with strength and capacity that it might not otherwise have known that it had.

Avi has taught us well. His life is complete.
Tehi nishmato tzerurah bitzror hachayim.
May his soul be bound up in the bond of life eternal.

Due to Shabbat coming in a few hours, the family has requested that Shiva visitations not begin until Sunday. The minyan schedule for services will be - Sunday morning at 9:00am, and Monday through Thursday mornings at 7:15pm. Evening minyanim Sunday through Wednesday will be at 5:30pm. Beth David and the Hebrew High School are seekling volunteers who are willing to study mishnayot in Avi’s memory, with the goal of completing the Six Orders of Mishneh, Shisha Sidrei Mishneh, in conjunction with the conclusion of the Sheloshim perioid of mourning. Volunteers are asked to call me at my office or Rabbi Loew at HHNE.

Internment, immediately following the conclusion of this service, will be at the Beth David Memorial Park in Wethersfield.