Do You Know this Wealthy Jew?

A quick Web search of the Detroit Jewish News Archives from the past two decades will yield a handful of covers featuring head shots of some of our Jewish community’s most successful businessmen who are remembered for their generous charitable contributions. These individuals were mega-wealthy, but they were glorified for their mega-philanthropy. What many may not realize is that the founder of our faith was a wealthy businessman too and the Torah’s first Hebrew might serve as a paragon of virtue for today’s mega-wealthy.

In this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Lech Lecha, Abraham is commanded by God to "lech lecha," that he should leave his ancestral land and travel to a new place that God will show him. Right after this divine order, we are informed about Abraham’s financial status. V’Avram Kaved Meod (Abram was very rich.” Our patriarch was rich in cattle, silver and gold. There is much to be learned from this word kaved, or rich. The word most often used for rich or wealthy in the Torah is ashir. So we must be curious about the choice to use kaved here.

In modern Hebrew, we use the word kaved to mean heavy, as in a physical weight, but it can also mean a burden. Rashi mentions this meaning in his commentary on the verse, and adds another meaning of kaved that we are familiar with from the fifth commandment of the Ten Commandments -- kabed et avicha v’et imecha (you must honor your parents). Similarly, from the same root is the word for an honor that is given out in synagogue, a kibood. Finally, the word kaved also means liver, which is the heaviest part of our body. So, in the Torah portion, we learn that Abraham is very wealthy and that the term used to demonstrate his wealth is an unusual choice.

"Kaved" is used to tell us that Abraham was weighted down with many possessions because of his wealth showing that it can be a challenge to have a financial fortune. In the very next verse, we learn that Abraham traveled from the Negev desert to Beit El “in stages,” which Rashi explains as meaning that Abraham took the same route on his return staying in the same places he had lodged on his way down to Egypt before he had wealth. This means that while Abraham is wealthier now, he has retained his humility and doesn’t choose to stay in nicer places. Abraham, our patriarch, was not altered by his accumulation of wealth. Recognizing the tendency to be burdened by money and possessions, Abraham maintain his kavod (honor) when he became kaved (wealthy). This is not always the case.

We tend to only see the positive side of enormous financial wealth. But, having power and wealth can be burdensome, it can be a challenge. In our society, such a vast possession of wealth requires much responsibility and integrity. It catapults people into the public eye, living life in a fishbowl, having every business decision scrutinized, every investment maneuver questioned. There are many advantages to a life of wealth, but it must be done while maintaining kavod.

There is much to learn from our patriarch Abraham. He was wealthy, but he was also well respected and humble. A model for us in modern times, Abraham possessed the dignity to keep him from a life of over-indulgence in material wealth. Many of the mega-rich tycoons in the corporate world of the 20th and 21st centuries were not paragons of virtue. Their wealth became burdensome, they became greedy and many ultimately got into legal trouble before their ultimate downfall. Such has not been the case with the Detroit Jewish community’s leaders over the past century. By and large, our community has been blessed with a disproportionate number of mega-philanthropists who have used their fortunes for the common good, bolstering noble causes in our community. Like our patriarch Abraham, the pillars of our dynamic community have maintained their kavod while being kaved.

For further discussion:

1. Have you noticed behavioral differences in friends or relatives who have become wealthy suddenly?

2. What are ways we can teach our children to make philanthropy a priority in their lives?

Originally published in The Detroit Jewish News

Planting Trees for Future Generations

A few weeks ago one of the directors of Michigan BBYO (B'nai Brith Youth Organization) contacted me. She explained that as part of an upcoming retreat, the Jewish teens in BBYO were interested in planting trees near their BBYO Bittker Retreat Center and then dedicating each tree in a ceremony. She had heard that I used to lead such activities for Camp Tamarack in Ortonville, Michigan and asked if I would share my resources. Of course, I sent her my files from several years of these tree planting ceremonies and told her how meaningful they were. 

A week later I was asked to contribute a piece for "The People & The Book" section of the Jerusalem Report magazine that drew inspiration from the Torah portion Kedoshim. Knowing that mitzvot (commandments) for planting trees are given in this parashah, I began writing about my own tree planting experiences, discussing those ceremonies at Camp Tamarack. What follows is my contribution to the Jerusalem Report:

Trees for Grandchildren

The joy of planting for future generations

If I had to guess the first time I ever planted a tree, it was likely as a young preschool child on the playground behind Adat Shalom synagogue in Farmington Hills, Michigan. I don’t really recall planting that tree, but I know that it was an annual tradition for the little five-year-olds at the shul’s nursery school in the early 1980s.

The next time I was supposed to plant a tree was at a tree planting ceremony outside of Jerusalem during a teen tour following my graduation from high school. However, rather than actually planting trees, we instead donated money for trees to be planted on our behalf the following year since that year was a shmita year, meaning the soil of Israel was being left fallow in a seven-year cycle.

Sheryl Sandberg's Wise Words in the Face of Tragedy

One of the most challenging aspects of being a rabbi, in my opinion, is finding the right words to bring comfort to those mourning following the tragic death of a loved one. Aside from the traditional Hebrew phrase we offer mourners, I often find myself left with only four words to offer to those grieving: "There are no words."

After my infant nephew died and people were at a loss for words, I simply uttered, "There are no words." Truthfully though, there are words. And the words aren't necessary from those who are offering comfort. Sometimes the most meaningful words are from the mourners themselves. Those who are in pain from grief can actually find tremendous comfort in their own words.

This was not the case in the Torah following one of the biggest tragedies. After the sudden death of two of Aaron's sons, the Torah explains how the father handled his grief. Using only two words, we are told "Vayidom Aharon," Aaron was silent. So often, silence is the most natural way for mourners to deal with the shock of a sudden death of a loved one. However, after time ones own words may bring comfort.

Credit: Scott Eells/Bloomberg via Getty Images

Such was the case today with Sheryl Sandberg, the Facebook executive whose husband, Dave Goldberg, died suddenly last month. In a Facebook post today on the occasion of the completion of the sheloshim (30-day) period, Sheryl posted a beautiful and inspirational message on her public Facebook account. Her aim was to give back some of the words that were most helpful to her during her period of immense grief. She writes that she received wisdom and advice from close friends and strangers alike. She specifically singles out her close friend and Detroit native Adam Grant, who taught her three things essential to resilience. Sometimes rather than try to come up with the right words to offer to a mourner, we should just listen.

Sheryl's Facebook post has already been shared close to 40,000 times and major media outlets have helped circulate it. Mark Zuckerberg, Robert Scoble, Randi Zuckerberg and many other leading technology executives have commented on her post as well. Sheryl's words are too important and impactful not to share:

Sheryl Sandberg:

Today is the end of sheloshim for my beloved husband—the first thirty days. Judaism calls for a period of intense mourning known as shiva that lasts seven days after a loved one is buried. After shiva, most normal activities can be resumed, but it is the end of sheloshim that marks the completion of religious mourning for a spouse.

A Very Jewish Jeopardy!

I'm a big fan of Jeopardy! and try to watch every episode of the long running TV game show. I rarely watch an episode of Jeopardy! live, but make it a point to tune in to the episodes I recorded on my TiVo Roamio Pro.

Since Monday was the second day of the Shavuot holiday, I didn't watch that evening's episode until today. I started off doing very well getting the first dozen questions correct, but that's not what led me to blog about this episode of Jeopardy!

One question made me curoius as to whether they intentionally used this question on the episode that aired on Shavuot. The answer was the famous quote from The Book of Ruth in which Ruth says to Naomi, "Wherever you go I will go..." to which one of the contestants correctly provided the question, "Who was Ruth?" I thought to myself, I can't believe Jeopardy! used a question from The Book of Ruth on Shavuot.

Robin Williams, Jacob in the Torah and Depression

I’ve never cried when a celebrity suddenly dies. It has always seemed like something that just happens. Certainly, it’s a sad day when an actor or musician, athlete or politician has “cashed in their chips” early. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’ve been shocked and saddened when I’ve learned of the lethal overdose of a promising young athlete or when the news breaks that a famous actor has lost his battle with cancer. But Robin Williams wasn’t just any comedian. He wasn’t your typical actor or entertainer. Robin Williams was the textbook definition of “comedic genius.”

Robin Williams grew up in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan only a few miles from my childhood home and, while not Jewish by birth, he was widely known as an honorary Jew – both for his brand of humor (always peppered with a Yiddish expression and Jewish inflection) and for his unwavering commitment to Jewish causes. I’ve cried several times in the past couple of days since hearing of his untimely death. He was a brilliant at entertaining us.

Like most of my generation, I was first introduced to the silliness of Robin Williams as a young child tuning in to every episode of “Mork and Mindy.” It was my mimicking of Robin’s goofy antics in kindergarten that led the teacher to tell my parents I was a “class clown.” And then I found my father’s audio cassettes of his standup routines, “Robin Williams: A Night at the Met” and “Reality… What a Concept.” I listened to those tapes dozens of times and brought them with me to summer camp to entertain my friends. The counselors told my parents I should be a standup comedian. Not long after that my dad took me to see “Good Morning Vietnam” in the theater and then I bought the video tape as soon as it came out, memorizing long segments of the movie and then performing them in front of my class at my Jewish day school. The teacher told my parents that I should tone down my R-rated humor.

What Do We Think About When We Study Torah

When my eldest child turned 10-years-old earlier this year we began a weekly ritual of Torah study on Shabbat afternoons. These 30-minute learning sessions have quickly become my highlight of the week as they are an opportunity for me to teach my son Torah and also gain from the new insights that he shares from his own perspective.

This past Shabbat we delved into Parashat Metzora, the Torah portion that continues the ancient ritual of dealing with one who was afflicted with the skin disease known as tzara'at in the Israelite camp during our ancestors' sojourn in the desert. As we took turns reading the Hebrew verses and their English translations, I began thinking about my late grandfather, Dr. David Gudes. A well-respected dermatologist in Detroit, Michigan, my Papa was an expert on various skin ailments and I often think about him each year during the time we read the Torah portions of Tazria and Metzora.

Our little Torah study session provided me with a wonderful opportunity to reflect on my Papa's life for my son who never had the chance to meet him. He died almost twenty years ago on October 6, 1994 (Rosh Chodesh Cheshvan). Today, April 7, would have been his 94th birthday.

Leading the Passover Seder with my grandfather (early 1980s)

What do we think about when we study Torah? Yes, our thoughts very often transcend to a time long ago when our biblical ancestors lived. But oftentimes the text of the Torah takes us to other places. Reading of a biblical character may cause us to think of an individual who possessed similar character traits. The interaction between two characters in the Torah may set our minds adrift as we think about a similar interaction in our own time. And a theme of the Torah, like the leprosy-like skin ailment of tzara'at, may force us to reflect on a loved one who is no longer with us in the Land of the Living.

Talking with my grandfather, Dr. David Gudes, the day before my bar mitzvah (1989)

It is a tradition to begin the Torah education of children with the third book of the Torah, Leviticus. Many have theorized that we initiate children with Torah study using this book rather than with Genesis, the first of the Five Books of Moses, because Leviticus is so complex with its minutiae of priestly laws. Whatever the rationale, I'm grateful to have studied from Leviticus this past Shabbat with my son because it allowed my Papa to join our weekly Shabbat Torah study. You never know what you're going to think about when you study Torah. For me, the details of a biblical skin disease brought my beloved grandfather back to life for the generation he never met.