In Memory of Alan Weinkrantz

About 5 years ago I was in New York City to speak at a technology conference called #140edu. It was one of Jeff Pulver’s 2-day conferences sort of modeled after the TED Talks. On the evening before the conference was to start, Jeff hosted a meetup for the speakers and select guests. I arrived unfashionably on time and there were only a few others at this trendy NYC bar/lounge. A gentleman named Alan Weinkrantz walked up to me and said, “So, you’re the tech rabbi?” We talked to each other for most of the rest of the evening.

I was intrigued by the work Alan was doing in the tech world – both in the U.S. and in Israel. He tried to convince me to come out to Texas for SXSW later that year (and each year ever since). What I liked most about Alan was that in that first conversation, he seemed to get me. He thought it was just so cool that a rabbi was so entrenched in the technology world. He peppered me with all sorts of questions about how rabbis and other Jewish educators were using social media and mobile apps. He wanted to know which applications I used for Torah text and for reading other Hebrew documents. He asked which social networks I recommended to synagogues and how they should be using them.

At the end of the evening, Alan told me he was creating YouTube videos of all of the speakers at the conference and asked if he could do a video interview of me the next morning. I explained that I was set to speak on the second day of the conference and actually had little idea about what I’d be saying. Somehow he still convinced me to do the interview… and I’m grateful he did.

Alan’s questions – both before he began recording and during the actual interview were essential to helping me construct my talk at the conference. Alan helped me frame my views of technology and social media that would allow me not only to deliver a more thoughtful speech at that conference, but Alan also helped me formulate the basis for my outlook regarding the intersection of Judaism and technology over the past few years.

A friendship with Alan Weinkrantz was formed at that conference in NYC that allowed us both to challenge each other and think deeper about the world of technology, social media and startups -- especially in the Jewish world and in Israel. The best part of meeting Alan for me was that he totally got me. When I explain to some people that I am both a rabbi and a technologist, they just look at me quizzically. Alan, however, just seemed to understand what that entailed and he thought it was so interesting how I managed to intersect those two worlds.

Alan would interview me again a couple years after that initial conference. We were both in Las Vegas for CES and Alan asked if we could meet up so he could ask me some questions about the Israeli startup companies that were exhibiting at CES. It isn't easy finding a mutually convenient time to meet anyone at CES and it isn't very easy to coordinate meeting locations because of the throngs of people in attendance. However, Alan and I were able to find some time (and find each other) so he could interview me for a Times of Israel video series he was doing on technology. It was great to see him and catch up. That was the last time I would see Alan although we corresponded by email and through social networks all the time.

On Saturday night as I was about to go to sleep in a hotel room, I got word of Alan's untimely death. He had been at an outdoor cafe in Tel Aviv (where he was spending more time lately) when a driver had a heart attack and drove full speed into the diners at the cafe. Alan and two others were killed. I immediately went to Alan's social networks to see recent photos of him. It was eerie to see the photo of his final meal that he had posted on Instagram, likely only moments before his demise. A friend of his posted that he had called her to join him for dinner that night, but she said she was too busy. As I perused the early responses on social media from friends who had just heard of Alan's tragic death, I was feeling intense grief, but I was also intrigued by the way we mourned this sudden loss through social media. And then I realized, that this was exactly a discussion that Alan I would have had.

I will forever miss Alan Weinkrantz, a visionary who was so amazed by technology. More than anything, Alan was a mensch. I'm grateful I got to become his friend, even if it was only for a handful of years. Yehi zichrono baruch, may the memory of Alan Weinkrantz be for blessings for all who knew him.

The Buddy Bench in Memory of My Nephew

Today is a difficult day for my family. We should be celebrating the first birthday of my nephew, Rylan Foster Gelb, but sadly his brief life was cut short on his eleventh day from a rare genetic disease called Galactosemia. I never had a chance to meet Rylan or to hold him and that makes the grieving process all the more challenging for me. So today, instead of eating cake and opening birthday presents, we are mourning this baby boy.

However, as much as Rylan's death has been cause for grief and despair, it has also been the impetus for kindness. In the months following his death, my sister-in-law Stephanie and her husband Hylton, while deep in their own grief, desperately searched for ways to keep Rylan's memory alive. They came up with a few wonderful ways for people to perform acts of loving kindness and then pay those good deeds forward. They have used the tragic death of their newborn son to improve the lives of thousands of others in such a short time.

Stephanie and Hylton Gelb with their newborn son Rylan

In addition to creating the Kounting Kindness website in memory of Rylan and setting up a scholarship fund at The Galactosemia Association of Midwest America (GAMA), Stephanie and Hylton, together with our family and their friends, have dedicated a Buddy Bench at the elementary school behind our home. This Buddy Bench sits prominently on the playground of Forest Elementary School in Farmington Hills, Michigan (the same school that both Stephanie and my wife, Elissa, attended as children) and helps to eliminate loneliness and foster friendship among the young children.

Stephanie Lorfel Gelb stands behind the Buddy Bench, dedicated in loving memory of her son Rylan

The Buddy Bench helps spread the message of inclusion and kindness, allowing Rylan's memory to be kept alive through the increased joy of young children. What's so special for me about this Buddy Bench is that it can be seen from the windows of my home. Already in the few short weeks since it was dedicated, I have stood in my kitchen and looked outside to see many children taking advantage of the Buddy Bench. A child sitting alone on the Buddy Bench signals to others that he is lonely and needs a friend to play with. It also encourages children to perform a good deed by including others in their activities at school recess.

Children at Forest Elementary School sit on the Buddy Bench, dedicated in memory of Rylan Gelb

The Buddy Bench has the opposite effect of bullying because it strongly encourages children to be inclusive and kind to others. Just this past Shabbat, a six-year-old girl approached my wife and I to let us know that she found a new friend by going over to the Buddy Bench when she saw a little girl sitting there waiting for someone to approach her. What a significant way to bring more kindness into the world.

It's remarkable how the tragedy of an infant's death can bring about mitzvot. These acts of kindness have helped to bring a touch of joy to the memory of my nephew Rylan. It's a challenge to find ways to turn such a negative event into many positive initiatives -- especially during the grieving process -- but I give my sister-in-law and brother-in-law tremendous credit for what they have done. The kindness that Rylan has brought into this world is exponential and will only continue to grow. May the short life of Rylan Gelb continue to bring blessings into our world and make it a kinder place for everyone.

Mourning 11 Days of Unclehood

I hadn't planned to walk 3 miles this past Sunday morning. It was not because I don't enjoy exercise. A 75-minute Spinning class is part of my typical Sunday morning routine. But on a cold and windy late April morning in Michigan, my wife, three children and I completed a 3-mile trek along a nature trail an hour from our home. It was an annual fundraiser walk to benefit the March of Dimes. My family unfortunately got to know the importance of the March of Dimes' newborn screening program late last year.

I've been a fan of SavvyAuntie.com since its early days on the web and always dreamed of being a Savvy Uncle though I know it doesn't quite roll off the tongue like "Savvy Auntie". While I have three wonderful children of my own, I have always looked forward to becoming an uncle. When my wife's sister announced she was due with her first child about a year ago, my excitement level rose. Unclehood was within reach.

Rylan Foster Gelb 12/3/2013-12/14/2013

On December 3, 2013 I became an uncle. I was ecstatic. On my personal blog I wrote about what a blessing it was for me to become an uncle. That might sound silly since I was already blessed with my own awesome and healthy biological children, but I enjoyed a wonderful relationship with my own uncle during my childhood and I was eager to try to replicate that special bond with my new nephew.

Sadly that high was short lived. Only a few days into my new role as an uncle I learned that my nephew Rylan Foster Gelb had been born with a rare genetic disorder. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law would come to learn more about that genetic disorder only because it was diagnosed through the newborn screening, which is a test researched, funded, and advocated by the March of Dimes. Tragically, my nephew was simply too sick to recover and he passed away on his eleventh day of life. He never left the hospital. He died cradled in his parents' arms. He died looking like a perfectly healthy baby.

Enough Senseless Tragedies Like Sandy Hook

A movie theater. A Sikh house of worship. An elementary school.

How long until we say enough gun violence in our nation? These tragic events get the media coverage because they are the result of gun violence on a large scale, but there are horrific murders and suicides in our nation all the time which are the result of guns and bullets.

Earlier today I took part in a conference call for rabbis about the recent tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Rabbi David Lerner, founder of Clergy Against Bullets, and Rabbi Jeffery Silberman, a chaplain and Director of Spiritual Care at Danbury Hospital in Connecticut (ten miles from Newtown), both spoke to the more than 100 rabbis on the call. There were Jewish texts that were cited, but ultimately the discussion turned to the need for comprehensive gun reform in our nation.

London Olympics, Munich 11 and Tisha B'Av

This Saturday night begins the sundown to sundown Tisha B'Av fast. It is a longstanding tradition marked by a day of communal mourning and reflection.

I wasn't around 2,000 years ago when my people's Temple was destroyed and thousands perished.

But, I am around today and that is why I will take the time to honor those who lost their lives in that tragedy.

Today begins the Summer Olympics in London. It is a longstanding tradition marked by 17 days of athletic competition among nations.

I wasn't around 40 years ago when 11 Israeli men lost their lives at the Summer Olympics in Munich.

But, I am around today and that is why I will take the time to honor those who lost their lives in that tragedy.


Shame on the International Olympic Committee for not recognizing the importance of memorializing this tragedy. Please take a minute today during the Opening Ceremonies to remember The Munich 11.

Torah From Terror

Following the Jewish High Holiday season in 2001, I decided to collect the sermons that rabbis had delivered about 9/11. I knew that on September 11 most rabbis already had drafts of their High Holiday sermons completed, but after the attacks that day these rabbis would have to rewrite those sermons. That tragic day left us speechless, but rabbis had to come up with the right words to bring comfort to those sitting in front of them on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in the days following 9/11.

The tragic events of September 11, 2001 cast a dark shadow on the Days of Awe 5762. Many rabbis, after discarding their already prepared sermons, found their voices and were able to construct the appropriate words to bring a sense of comfort during those uncertain days.

I was in rabbinical school at the Jewish Theological Seminary at the time and I told my teacher, Rabbi Neil Gillman, about my idea for a project. Rabbi Gillman agreed to be the co-editor of the "Torah From Terror" project and we sent out requests to Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative and Orthodox rabbis asking them to submit a sermon from either Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur that dealt with the 9/11 tragedy. Immediately, the sermons began pouring in. I organized the sermons into the Torah From Terror website.

On this, the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks I have decided to reformat the Torah From Terror website. The sermons are now available at http://torahfromterror.blogspot.com. Now visitors are able to leave comments on the different sermons. Also, the search capability is much improved from the original site.

I hope you will visit the Torah From Terror website, and through those words of wisdom you will find comfort and hope. May those words be a remembrance of that horrific day in our nation's history and may we continue to find inspiration in words of Torah.

Our world has changed immensely in the past decade as a result of the terror attacks on September 11, 2001, but we continue to pray the memories of the victims will be for blessings. God bless America.

In Desire of a Less Political 9/11 Anniversary

Last week, I was asked by the Detroit Free Press to submit three paragraphs reflecting on where I was on September 11, 2001 and how my life changed as a result of that day. The irony for my wife and for me is that we made the conscious decision to go ahead with our plans of moving to Israel for the year even though there was violence in Jerusalem throughout the summer of 2001. It wasn't until the terrorist attacks of 9/11 occurred here in the U.S. that we made the difficult decision to alter our plans and not move to Israel.

This year, the anniversary of 9/11 was a collision of religious events as it fell on the Sabbath following Rosh Hashanah -- a fast day were it not the Sabbath -- and on the Muslim celebration of Eid al-Fitr -- a holiday marking the end of the holy month of Ramadan. 9/11 was turned into a political storm as a result of the explosive debate surrounding the planned Islamic cultural center and mosque just blocks from Ground Zero.

There are some similarities between the planned building of Park51 (formerly known as Cordoba House) two blocks from the Ground Zero site and the potential building of a convent near the Auschwitz concentration camp in 1989. However, Anthony Stevens-Arroyo, writing in the Washington Post, explains that the lesson taught by Pope John Paul II in not allowing the nuns to move their convent to that site is not necessarily what the "'move the mosque' spokespersons would want to hear."

More than the debate on whether to allow the Islamic cultural center and mosque to be built so close to Ground Zero, what has surprised me is that the family members of the victims from the Twin Towers have not voiced loud opposition to the fact that their loved ones' graves will become a shopping mall. The lower floors of the rebuilt World Trade Center will be stores. Some will argue that this displays our resolve to rebuild that site as a place of commerce. Others will recall the debate, again at Auschwitz, of constructing a shopping mall in a building once used for storing hair and possessions from murdered prisoners of the camp. A mile from the Auschwitz camp, the site of the proposed shopping mall had been a disco until it was forced to close.

All of this controversy comes down to the issue of space and how we seek to sanctify it. Ultimately those who argue that a mosque would desecrate the hollowed ground of Ground Zero, the burial spots of thousands, and attempt to prove their point by burning copies of the Koran are just as guilty of desecration. I'm hopeful that in the end, calmer heads will prevail, and the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks will be a more civil display of remembrance rather than a petty political debate. I'm nostalgic for the passionate displays of patriotism that prevailed in the weeks following the attacks in our country.

Here is the unedited reflection I submitted to the Detroit Free Press last week:

My life was in limbo on September 11, 2001. My wife and I had spent our first two years of marriage living in a small apartment in Manhattan, just twelve blocks from the Jewish Theological Seminary where I was studying to become a rabbi. We planned to relocate to Jerusalem after the Jewish holidays where we would experience life in Israel for the year and I would continue my rabbinic studies. In the week prior to Rosh Hashanah, I traveled by plane to Chicago to visit my friend who had just moved there. Little did I know I would be stranded in Chicago and our plans to move to Israel would be canceled.

I woke up on the morning of 9/11 in my friend’s Chicago apartment. Jeremy told me to turn the television on to the Today Show on NBC because a plane had just flown into one of the World Trade Center towers. I couldn’t believe my eyes and then we saw another plane fly into the other tower. The world would change forever, and so would the way people talk about that date in history. My flight was canceled, but I was able to take a train back to Michigan a couple days later. Air France, with whom we had booked our flights to Israel, decided they would no longer fly to Israel and immediately refunded our money. We made the difficult decision, along with many of my classmates and their spouses, to stay in the U.S. for the year rather than spend it in Israel. Ironically, it was a choice we made because of the terrorism in America and not because of the scary terrorist acts that had plagued Israel all summer long.

My wife and I had already rented out our New York City apartment so returning there wasn’t an option. Instead, we took our possessions out of storage and moved to Caldwell, NJ – close enough to commute into Manhattan and live in a vibrant Jewish community where I would intern at the local synagogue. For us, 9/11 altered our plans. We never had the chance to live in Jerusalem for a year (at least not before children), but that is certainly no comparison to the way so many lives changed dreadfully as a result of the horrific events of that day. We made the best of a change of plans, while so many families will never be the same. Our country will never be the same after being shaken from the acts of 9/11 – as much as we came together as an American people in the weeks that followed, the events of that day have also torn us apart.