The Wisdom of the Heart -- 9/20/61

Happy 100^th Birthday Rabbi Sidney Ballon!!! Would that he were here today in good health to hear these words. Would that we would have had an additional twenty-six years to hear his words. Taken much too early in his life, and certainly in the lives of those of us who loved him. It has been a source of some consolation to drink in the words he left on thousands of aging pieces of paper, and to have the privilege of sharing them with other avid readers. Even more so, having them share their memories of him with us.

For this special day, the one-hundredth anniversary of his birth, I selected a Yom Kippur sermon from 1961. Sidney Ballon was a person of great intellect, logic, and discipline. These qualities were present even when he argued with passion for Jewish values, Jewish causes, and for the very survival of the Jewish people. Like certain rocks to which he refers in this sermon, that appear ordinary until viewed in ultraviolet light and then glow with color, this sermon reveals, perhaps more clearly than any other, not only his intelligence, but his spirit. He is seen in a different light herein. Even the title, The Wisdom of the Heart, seems to reveal a side of Rabbi Ballon that may have been ever present, but less visible at times—the sweetness of his spirituality.

May we find lasting inspiration in the experience of this day. May its recollection be a support to us through the year to come, and may we so live as to reflect a constant awareness of the reality of God among us.

Throughout the years Rabbi Ballon judiciously “recycled” sermons that he had delivered at previous congregations. Upon arriving at his semi-retirement position at Temple Beth Tefilloh in Brunswick, Georgia in 1974, he had his entire career’s archives at his disposal. Interestingly, when he dipped into his file of High Holy Day sermons this was the one he selected to deliver at his first and what became his only Yom Kippur there. Perhaps it was for the clarity, simplicity, and the power of the message: listen to your heart, and believe!

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There is no holy day on our religious calendar that is more emotionally charged than the Day of Atonement which we now observe. It begins with the awesome tones of the Kol Nidre[i] chant. It continues through a day of fasting, of solemn prayer and meditation on life and death. It ends in a spirit of deep humility with the concluding service of Neilah[ii]. And from beginning to end there is a feeling of being in the presence of what a noted religious philosopher has called the mysterium tremendum, a term which practically explains itself, the great mystery, the indescribable and unknowable power that permeates the universe. It was, indeed, after visiting a Yom Kippur service in a North African synagogue that Rudolf Otto[iii] conceived of the idea of the mysterium tremendum and wrote his book in which he called it the central factor of all religion. There is a touch of mystery inherent in Yom Kippur. Everyone present in the synagogue, I venture to say, senses it to some extent at least, and it is even possible to have one’s entire life changed by it.

One man whose life was changed by his Yom Kippur experience was Franz Rosenzweig[iv]. I wonder how many of you have heard of him. Franz Rosenzweig was a young German Jew with a brilliant mind. He possessed a deep knowledge of philosophy, but knew very little about Judaism. One day he came to the conclusion that he wanted to become Christian, and he was encouraged in this by several friends. But he decided to go about his in a strange way. He said he did not want to enter Christianity as a pagan, but rather like its founders as a Jew. He, therefore decided to subject himself to a Jewish experience in preparation for his becoming a Christian, and so on the High Holy Days of 1913 he attended services in a synagogue. His attendance on Yom Kippur was thus supposed to be a sort of leave-taking of this people, after which he was to be converted. He was truly converted on that day. It was however, a total conversion to Judaism. When the Neilah service had ended and the final cry of Shema Yisroel[v] was pronounced, Rosenzweig was wholeheartedly a part of the congregation, and he joined with them in this declaration of faith. He had been recaptured by the magnetic mood of the day, and sometime later in a lecture he said,

Anyone who has ever celebrated Yom Kippur knows that it is something more than a mere personal exaltation or the symbolic recognition of a reality such as the Jewish people—it is a testimony to the reality of God which cannot be controverted.

Rosenzweig in the years subsequent to this significant visit to Yom Kippur services became one of the most creative Jewish thinkers of the century, a Jew whose faith remained firm and unshakable, even through long suffering from the effects of a crippling paralysis, which caused his death in his early forties.

Another man whose life was profoundly changed by a Yom Kippur service was not Jewish at all but rather a young French Catholic who had been planning on entering the priesthood. His name was Aime Palliere,[vi] and in his autobiography entitled, The Unknown Sanctuary he tells us of a strange incident which occurred when he was seventeen, which kept him from fulfilling his plan. While he was on vacation in 1902, he just happened to be passing by a synagogue with a friend. His friend had heard that the Jews were observing a great festival that day and suggested they go into the synagogue. Palliere had been raised in a very religious atmosphere and a pious Catholic would not ordinarily go into a synagogue, but he, nevertheless, yielded to the suggestion. It was the time of the Neilah service, and that unique moment changed his life. Palliere tells us that he cannot fully explain what happened to him. He calls it an unfathomable enigma. Actually there was no sudden flash of transformation, but the effect of that moment influenced his thinking and feeling to such an extent that his whole life took a different turn. Palliere had no background whatsoever in Jewish matters. He could not understand the service nor interpret what was going on. It was for the moment a confused experience for him, but the electricity of the occasion communicated itself to him. What he sensed particularly, he says was the mystery of Israel as reflected in two characteristics that were revealed to him. One, he says, is the form of collective priesthood[vii] which is basic to Judaism, that is, the equality of all Jews. All Jews are priests. And two, the spirit of expectancy, the faith in the future, which is the special seal of Judaism. Judaism was an ancient religion, but he noted that it, nevertheless, did not look to the past, but in a living and dynamic manner still hoped for achievement in the future. On that day, he said, he first beheld the people to whom the nations had been ungrateful, who had survived despite all things. While the other great peoples of antiquity had disappeared from the face of the earth, Israel had been preserved for providential ends. Aime Palliere did not formally convert to Judaism, but his visit to the synagogue on Yom Kippur, the insight that he gained at that Neilah service, moved him to study Judaism thoroughly, to love it and to live it to the same extent as if he had, indeed, been fully a Jew.

We, who sit here tonight in this sanctuary, will probably not find the direction of our life so dramatically changed by this Yom Kippur service as were the lives of Rosenzweig and Palliere but even if we are not like them in that respect, I believe that we are like them in that we, too, on Yom Kippur sense something of the mystery of God and Israel. For us also Yom Kippur is a moment to truth when our emotions overcome our sophistication, when our enslavement to cold reason is temporarily suspended, when there is a surge of faith within us and we feel that somehow we have glimpsed something holy and meaningful, have drawn near to the sacred and divine.

And assuming all this to be true, I present you with a simple plea this evening. Believe in yourself at this moment, and do not later repudiate what you now feel. Do not think that this reaction to Yom Kippur is mere sentimentality or the result of nostalgia. Do not be ashamed of it or embarrassed by it. Do not reproach yourself for having been touched by the seemingly irrational, but rather accept these intuitions of the heart as a meaningful experience. Trust these intuitions of the heart as a clue to ultimate truth and allow the memory of them to sustain you in later moments when you may possibly be susceptible to doubt and questioning.

In this scientific age so many of us tend to disparage our religious emotions and to believe in only what we can prove by the logic of the intellect or the testimony of the five senses. But man’s intellect and senses do not necessarily tell us all that there is to know about reality, and the admonition of the poet[viii] is in order,

O WORLD, thou choosest not the better part!

It is not wisdom to be only wise,

And on the inward vision close the eyes,

But it is wisdom to believe the heart.

In this scientific age we are so enamored of the achievements of man’s mind and the truly magnificent progress that has been made in adding to our knowledge of physical things, that even in religious matters intellectual proof is expected, and we ask, “How do you know, can you prove it?” But religious problems cannot be handled in quite the same way as the problems of the physical world. We cannot depend altogether on rational proof. We cannot prove in a scientific sense the answers to the religious questions of God and Immortality and Human Destiny and such. We can only, even as we do on Yom Kippur, stand in awe before the mysteries of life and place some trust in the revelations of the heart. This is not to say that reason is to be excluded from our religious searching. Certainly in Judaism reason is never repudiated, but reason must be supplemented and cannot by itself help us find our way.

Many are the mysteries which reason cannot now and never will be able to unravel alone. There is the mystery of why there is anything in existence at all. There is the mystery of our own individual, unique, never-to-be duplicated self. There is the mystery of what is life, what really is man who is able to conceive of beauty, goodness, and truth. There is the mystery of the universe, its order and regularity, its infinite space and there is indeed, the not insignificant mystery sensed by Palliere in the synagogue, that of the people of Israel who have lived through centuries of hardship and frustration, who have been able to recover from the cruelest tragedy imaginable and go on new achievements. Einstein once said that to feel the mystery of all existence is the fairest experience of man and “he who knows it not and can no longer wonder can no longer feel amazement is as good as dead.”[ix] But our intellect will not answer the questions this experience of mystery poses. The answers—or more accurately some small insight into the answers—can come only from the revelations of the heart. It comes as Abraham Heschel says, only in the feeling that all existence is embraced by some spiritual presence we call God, although we cannot always describe it or define it.

Prof. Henry Overstreet has told the story of how he once stopped at a collector’s shop in Tucson, Arizona where many kinds of minerals and stones were on display.  In the course of his visit he was taken into a small room where rocks were laid out on shelves. They were quite ordinary looking rocks. Had he seen them elsewhere he probably would not have given them a second glance. But the man in the shop closed the door so the room was in total darkness and then turned on an ultraviolet lamp. Instantly these ordinary rocks become transformed and brilliant colors of indescribable beauty were seen upon them. It made him realize what hidden realities there are all around us not perceptible to our ordinary vision, but which need some special power to make them evident.

This day of Yom Kippur releases such a special power which enables us also to sense the presence of hidden realities which are not always evident to our senses, and just as the colors remained inherent in the rock when the ultraviolet was dimmed, so what we feel here tonight remains real and true though our emotions may wane when we turn again to our daily routine. May we find lasting inspiration in the experience of this day. May its recollection be a support to us through the year to come, and may we so live as to reflect a constant awareness of the reality of God among us.

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[i] Kol Nidre, (lit. all vows) is an Aramaic declaration recited in the synagogue before the beginning of the evening service on every Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Though not a prayer, this dry legal formula and its ceremonial accompaniment have been charged with emotional undertones since the medieval period, creating a dramatic introduction to Yom Kippur.

[ii] Neilah, (lit. locking, as in locking the gates of prayer) the concluding service on Yom Kippur is the time when final prayers of repentance are recited.

[iii] Rudolf Otto (1869–1937) was an eminent German Lutheran theologian and scholar of comparative religion.

[iv] Franz Rosenzweig (1886–1929) was an influential German Jewish theologian and philosopher.

[v] Shema Yisroel (or Sh'ma Yisrael) ("Hear, [O] Israel") are the first two words a verse of Torah that encapsulates the monotheistic essence of Judaism: "Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is one," found in Deuteronomy 6:4.

[vi] Aime Palliere (1868-1949) was a French Catholic, who became a Noahide, a non-converting adherent to Judaism.

[vii] Exodus 19:6, “and ye shall be unto Me a kingdom of priests, and a holy nation. These are the words which thou shalt speak unto the children of Israel.”

[viii] O World, Thou Choosest Not by George Santayana  (b. 1863)

O WORLD, thou choosest not the better part!

It is not wisdom to be only wise,

And on the inward vision close the eyes,

But it is wisdom to believe the heart.

Columbus found a world, and had no chart,

Save one that faith deciphered in the skies;

To trust the soul’s invincible surmise           

Was all his science and his only art.

Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine

That lights the pathway but one step ahead

Across a void of mystery and dread.

Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine

By which alone the mortal heart is led

Unto the thinking of the thought divine.

[ix] Albert Einstein, The World as I See It, Secaucus, New Jersey: The Citadel Press, 1999, p. 5. “The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. He who knows it not and can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as good as dead, a snuffed-out candle. It was the experience of mystery — even if mixed with fear — that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which are only accessible to our reason in their most elementary forms-it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man. I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes his creatures, or has a will of the type of which we are conscious in ourselves. An individual who should survive his physical death is also beyond my comprehension, nor do I wish it otherwise; such notions are for the fears or absurd egoism of feeble souls. Enough for me the mystery of the eternity of life, and the inkling of the marvelous structure of reality, together with the single-hearted endeavor to comprehend a portion, be it never so tiny, of the reason that manifests itself in nature.”

Tributes

Over the years I have written various tributes to my dad—on my blog, http://yesh-indeed.blogspot.com/; in my poetry book, Salt & Pepper; and in my ethical will, Blessings—all of which can be accessed on my website, http://yeshaya.net/.

Clearly this blog is an indication of the love and respect I hold for him. Those who knew me as an adolescent rabbi’s kid know what a struggle that was, and that I had barely turned the corner toward adulthood and some semblance of maturity when he was gone. As a consequence I missed the opportunity to have much adult dialog with him, and for decades after his death that breach remained intact. 

It was the Spring of 1991, twenty-one years ago, when that serendipitously shifted. Two specific events led to this. The first was when asked by a therapist how it felt to be the rabbi’s son I blurted out to my own surprise, “I hated it!” Somehow those three words—understood by all my friends I later learned, but hidden to me—magically unraveled the knot that stood between me and truly embracing my father. Supporting that was the discovery of Robert Bly and the Men’s Movement that gave me greater insight into father/son relationships and a new vocabulary with which to reconnect with my father.

Accessing and reading his sermons this past year has provided, at least in part, the dialog that had been missing for so long.

Were I able to sit with him on his 100^th birthday what would that be like? Other than giving him a Mounds Bar, his favorite candy, I can only imagine that I would hug and kiss him, that I would thank him for being the person he was—a man of great integrity, passion, strength, leadership, Yiddishkeit, and love—and for leaving such a clear legacy. I would pledge to him to do whatever was in my power to pass on this legacy, to preserve not just Jewish values, but the Jewish people upon whom those values depend. I learned from his words that our people have given much to society including many of the ideals of democracy. If we have been a light unto the nations it has been with careful guarding of the source of that light, the spark of Judaism that has prevailed for thousands of years despite many attempts to extinguish it. This is no time to let that flame flicker. 

So happy birthday, Dad! God willing, in another hundred years your descendants will read your words and draw as much inspiration as I have.

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Below are a few tributes and reminiscences that we have been blessed to receive from friends and former congregants. You are invited to add to these directly on the Rabbi Sidney Ballon Facebook page.

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For my Rabbi – my memories of Rabbi Sidney Ballon

Submitted by Rick Ehrlich

I am familiar with the names and families posting on this blog as my family belonged to Nassau Community Temple and there was only one Rabbi as far as I am concerned – Rabbi Sidney Ballon. Whoever came after Rabbi Ballon retired does not linger in my memory and is unimportant to me.  To say that Rabbi Ballon was a central part of my life would be a gross understatement.

My first and earliest memory of meeting Rabbi Ballon was at age 4 or 5 when he came to our home. I was sliding down the stairs in my underwear while Rabbi sat nearby in the living room and talked with my mother. Somehow I recall asking Rabbi about life and death and he responded without hesitation to satisfy my curiosity. I remember that he talked to me about Adam and Eve, or enough to satisfy my questions.  We were new to the community in the mid-1950s and my life consisted of going to temple and years of religious school from Consecration to Bar Mitzvah, Confirmation, and graduation from the religious school.

After my Bar Mitzvah Rabbi Ballon was my teacher in the high school years and my memory of Rabbi is that he was always “on-duty”.  It was while at Joseph Eisner Camp Institute in Great Barrington that I actually got to see Rabbi Ballon in a more relaxed atmosphere and he seemed fully at ease, or “off-duty” My early years at the camp were times with Rabbi Ballon’s children Jeff, Muff (Martha) and Doug. I know that I saw more of the Ballon family (with exception of Rabbi Ballon) at Camp Institute. One day, word got around the camp to the few of us from Nassau Community Temple that Rabbi Ballon was at camp. This meant that Rabbi was actually at the manor house which was used for retreats and seminars on the property of the camp. No sooner than the word circulated through the dining hall about the presence of Rabbi Ballon in camp, that a group of us ran to the Manor House in order to have a few minutes with him. This of course was all “unauthorized behavior” without permission etc., but while at camp it was in fact de rigueur for adolescents to think for themselves and deal with consequences later.

Running across the space of what was known as the “universal lawn” to the manor house was a snap and it was with great pleasure to find Rabbi Ballon standing outside the manor house, resplendent in a summer outfit made him appear to be most relaxed and enjoying himself.  It was a marked difference from seeing Rabbi at temple.  Instead of a jacket and tie with the shirt buttoned up and tie knotted fully, he was relaxed, smiling and equally pleased to see us as we were to see him, surrounded by the beauty of the Berkshires. It was a delicious moment.

If there are any regrets on my part, it is that I did not have more moments like these to hang with Rabbi Ballon. There were plenty of times that I saw Rabbi at temple, both in and outside of services but he was always the adult and elder to me.  Occasionally in religious school, I would see him relaxed and smiling but there would never be any mistake about Rabbi Ballon. He was ramrod tall, to the point, full of knowledge, and always in charge. A memorable moment occurred when Rabbi seemed to be relaxed and energized was upon his return from Israel, he surprised us by suddenly and unexpectedly entering the classroom and proclaiming “your commander in chief is back!” in that great sonorous voice of his. The big smile on Rabbi’s face was greeted with applause and laughter as we were all put at ease.

Rabbi Ballon was family to the members of NCT and those who knew him. I was stunned to hear of Rabbi Ballon’s passing shortly after he retired.  To me, Rabbi Ballon was the Nassau Community Temple. Cantors would come and go, but Rabbi Ballon was a constant from my earliest memory of the Quonset hut on Woodfield Road, with the goat farm across the street.  And when the temple moved to the new building on Hempstead Avenue, Rabbi Ballon did more than serve the community and the temple, he was the temple and the rock of the community.

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Shalom to the community of the late RABBI SIDNEY BALLON—

Although Rabbi Ballon was not my rabbi—he was the father of my best friend—he influenced me in a profound way—as did my own Rabbi Harold Saperstein Z"L—who was his colleague and friend on the south shore of Long Island in the heyday of the great suburban baby boom generation.

Rabbi Ballon personified the great generation of reform rabbis. He was dignified, Judaically and secularly highly educated. Most of all, he stood for something and was not afraid to speak his mind to high and low alike. That generation will not come again.

I could never aspire to be like him or Harold; however, his example guides me in my best moments and humbles me when I fail to be like him, which is often.

Zichrono livrakha—his memory is a blessing.

James Mirel, Rabbi C'74

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Hello Doug (the name we know you by)

It was touching and meaningful to have your email forwarded to us. We remember you as a bright, bouncy young boy, young man. And the memories of your Mom and Dad, of blessed memories, are many and beautiful.

Your Dad officiated at our son's Bar Mitzvah in 1968. We remember so well  the encouraging and admiring words he uttered to Douglas that day. Among them were the following as best we remember, "Douglas, you see these grey hairs on my head? Some of them are due to you." Linda's Hebrew Recognition and Confirmation were bestowed by your Dad. Rabbi Ballon was an inspiration to both Linda and Douglas. Stanley has memories of meaningful retreats (in Chappaqua?) that he attended with your father.

Though many people addressed your Dad as Sidney, I could not do that. To me it seemed a breech of respect for your father who was a leader, a scholar, a teacher who inspired and encouraged us all. We are blessed to have had him in our respective lives.

Susan & Stanley Kolker

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I have attached a photo of Rabbi Ballon officiating at our wedding in 1974.

Rabbi B was a dear friend of my parents, Marge & Howard Fener, and agreed to marry Leigh & me in their backyard in Hempstead. Additional photos in my album show both him and your mother laughing with their friends and other guests at the reception.

Rabbi B was a family friend all through my childhood and I always enjoyed his warm smile and acceptance.

Leigh & I moved to Boston that same summer we wed and I did not have the chance to see the Rabbi again.

It is a pleasure to remember his twinkling eyes and smile, and his sincere wishes for my benefit each time he lifted his arms & closed his eyes in benediction. I can clearly picture him now in my mind's eye.

I hope you get many more testimonials to this decent, generous man.
With appreciation,
Judy (Fener) Peritz

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Dear Doug,

My memories of your father are as follows:

It was more than your father. Our families were very similar only my Mother did not speak with a Southern accent.

We had two boys and a girl as did your family. I was closest to you. Your brother was a bit too old for me to know really well and your sister Muff was similar in age to Meri. I think I linked Jeff to Lucy Jordon, who was probab ly the same age.

I don’t think I realized that your father was 6 years older than my father. They were both GOOD men, they were both tall, and kind and, frankly, I thought of your father as a surrogate father in the best sense.

My first memories were when the Temple was in the old Quonset Hut, which now I think is a milk and food store. The chapel was in the main part of the Quonset Hut and I have memories of meeting my lifelong friend, David Jordon that time when we were in Kindegarten at the Temple together. We then had classes where the milk store is now. I remember one teacher who was built a little like a football player, and he discussed that our first loyalty was to the United States and then to Israel. That was important to him. I went to religious school all the way through till 9th grade.

I have vivid memories of your dad as Rabbi raising his two hands at the end of his service to give the benediction of Peace. It was a comforting ritual that accompanied every service and it stays with me still.

It always amazed me that the anti-Semites were so stupid. All or our prayers aspired towards the idea of world unity and a world of Peace. Not much reason to be so angry with.

I thought I was the first boy to be Bar Mitzvahed at the new Temple, but it turns out, your Bar Mitzvah, Doug preceded mine by several months. I remember that your father had a lot of books in his office. I remember that his sermon had a fable or story to end with each Friday night and that was my favorite part of his Sermon. Even my father woke up to hear the Sermon.

It was only after I heard other rabbis that I began to truly realize what a great rabbi I had, although I was always appreciative of what a wonderful man he was.

I remember when I gave my reading from the Torah, I used a silver pointer and your Dad helped guide me along the passage. I loved the mystical experience of reading from the actual Torah. My passage had to do with Moses.

I have two regrets.

1. Even though I was a lazy bum, I’m a bit sorry that we never really learned to understand what we were reading. We learned to read Hebrew, but not to understand what the words meant besides just a couple like Baruch (Barack!) Blessed.

2. My second regret was that sometime in the early 1970’s I began to get interested in the Cabala and I am sorry that I was never able to discuss the Cabala or mystical teachings of the Old Testament with Rabbi Ballon. I am also puzzled by the animosity that the Cabala seems to generate in other rabbis.

Not that I think your Dad would respond that way, in fact that is why I wish I could have discussed it with him. This would include such ideas as the transmigration of souls and simply what his take was on this realm.

One way or another, I always thought of Jesus as simply a rabbi who taught the mystical teachings of the Old Testament and I don’t really know where that perception derived from. I don’t think we can so easily dismiss the Shroud of Turin, however. These kinds of things I would have liked to have discussed with him, but he was already gone and many times I think about how much I would have liked to have heard his take on all of this.

One story I remember has to do with Christmas. We were going to go around singing Christmas Carols and so we asked Rabbi Ballon what he thought about that and he said, essentially, “Go ahead and have a good time.”

I was very much impressed with his response because he understood if a person was secure in his Jewish identity, singing Christmas Carols would in no way threaten this identity. So we went and had a great time. Some of my closest friends were Christians and never once did that make me think about converting.

Another strong memory has to do more with the experience of being in the religious school at Nassau Community Temple.

This meant that I became friends with fellows my age who went to different high schools. I befriended two kids from Franklin Square and Hempstead. One kid’s name was Bryan and I can’t remember the other kid’s name.

In any event, we would meet at the Cinema at Roosevelt Field. This was a big deal for me. I was 14 (1962) or thereabouts and I took the bus all by myself to meet them at the Cinema and we saw Dr. No together and we also saw Judgement at Nuremburg. That film changed my life, with the real life footage of the skeletons being pushed into mass graves at the concentration camps.

I’ve never been the same, and we three Jewish kids from Nassau Community Temple, all on our own, experienced that event together. It helped us grow up in a variety of ways because not only had we done something that was very independent, we had also become friends even though we were from different high schools (which was a big deal at that time.) It taught us to think outside the box.

Reading through the blogs, makes me look forward to seeing a complete compilation of Rabbi Ballon’s sermons in a book I can hold in my hands.

Best regards,

Brother Marc Jeffrey Seifer

I put my middle name in there because that was my link to your brother, the other Rabbi in the family!

 

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REMEMBERING RABBI SIDNEY BALLON

By Rabbi Robert (Bob) (Bobby) Loewy

Congregation Gates of Prayer

Metairie, LA

Rabbis are often asked the same questions repeatedly. One of those queries is: “Why did you become a Rabbi?” Part of my response is always linked to the man who was the rabbi of my youth, Sidney Ballon. His example has been before me as I have fulfilled this calling for 35 years.

Like many, my first recollection of him is on the pulpit. I don’t recall any sermon in particular, though I do have distinct memories of being in the sanctuary at Nassau Community Temple following the death of President Kennedy. Rather, it was his pulpit presence that resonates. Rabbi Ballon (I never called him Sidney, though my parents did.) crafted his services with his Student- Cantors and organist, so that they flowed seamlessly. As a professional, I now have great admiration for that skill, though at the time, I of course took it for granted. I can hear his loud, strong voice, pronouncing the words of the Union Prayer Book, clearly and distinctly, the English and the Hebrew, giving emphasis where deemed appropriate.

Though I do not know the details of his back injury, since I was under the age of 10 at the time, I can now empathize. He exhibited amazing courage, strength and commitment by continuing to lead the congregation in worship, while dealing with significant back pain. This included hobbling onto the pulpit to be part of my brother Joe’s Bar Mitzvah. We will never forget that effort.

I now understand that his pulpit demeanor was an expression of Kavod hatsibur, respecting one’s congregation. The role of shaliach tsibur, prayer leader, is one that he took very seriously and I have embraced his example in my own rabbinate.

Like hundreds of others, I can recall him guiding me for my Bar Mitzvah and in Confirmation. Mine was the last Bar Mitzvah from my cohort of friends. It was also the last Bar Mitzvah where we used Ashkenazic pronunciation of Hebrew. After me, it was Sephardic, reflecting Rabbi Ballon’s desire to see us linked to Israel. He was an ardent Reform Zionist. Jean’s mosaics, created on his sabbatical, served as a constant link to Israel.

My Confirmation Class was also the last one to experience that rite of passage in the 9th grade. After us, it was 10th grade Confirmation, reflecting his passion for extending Jewish education for youth to the maximum. While I do not use his poem about the “cud chewing cow and the gum chewing boy” in my Confirmation classes, I do share his teaching that “God is not a cosmic bellhop.” I may be speaking to the next generation, but it is his voice as well.

During my high school years, Rabbi Ballon called and asked if I would be interested in accompanying him to the Crown Hts. section of Brooklyn for Simchat Torah. Perhaps this was a subtle way of baiting the hook for me to consider the rabbinate or it was simply a rabbi being kind to one of his more committed students. I had no idea what to expect and what an eye opening experience it was! With all of the Chasidim dancing in the streets, the singing and drinking… I was in a totally different Jewish world, one I could appreciate from afar, but never embrace. It opened my eyes to the larger Jewish world beyond NCT, LIFTY and Eisner.

I remember the awe I felt by simply riding in the car with him. After all, he was “the Rabbi!!” However, I was not sure what to think when he found a tight parking spot and bumped bumpers squeezing in. Little did I know at the time that this was what one did in New York, a skill I later mastered as well.

In retrospect getting past the “Rabbi” title should not have been that difficult. My parents, Janet and Ed, enjoyed a warm, friendly relationship with Sidney and Jean. We were in each other’s homes on a social basis. Rabbi Ballon was still “Rabbi Ballon” to me, but Jean was “Aunt Jean,” a warm, ebullient, free-spirit. I especially remember our families going to Providence for a Brown/Cornell football game. Though I now understand that rabbi/congregant friendships can be complicated, I believe that the one I witnessed taught me how special they can be.

As the youngest of the Loewy children, I was also younger than all of the Ballons. I recall Muff as being beautiful and Doug as mischievious, but over time it was Jeff z”l (may his memory be a blessing) with whom I was blessed to develop a friendship. The fact that we both became rabbis may have something to do with that. I can only imagine how proud Rabbi Ballon must have been that Jeff followed in his footsteps.

My connection with Jeff began when he substituted one day for his father in Confirmation class. We must have been studying the Jews in America, because Jeff drilled us all with one name: Gershom Mendes Seixas, not a household name, but the first Jewish clergyman in the colonies. It became a standing joke between us over the years. I thought that I was the only one who would remember it, but a few months ago, Jack Friedman, one of my Confirmation Classmates, saw a reference to him and linked it to that memorable day with Jeff.

I also take the credit for matching Jeff to Ann Lois. However, it was really Jeff, who noticed her, asked me if I knew who she was and then demanded in typical Jeff fashion that I introduce them. Our paths crossed many times over the years, either at UAHC/URJ or CCAR events. One highlight in particular occurred in 2007 at the Atlanta CCAR convention, where Jeff and I were chevruta/study buddies for a few hours. While I was certainly in the moment as we immersed ourselves in Jewish mystical teachings, my mind linked me across the years to my childhood rabbi.

I was honored to be asked by Yeshaya/Doug to share my thoughts on this occasion. Most who read this blog can say they were touched by Rabbi Sidney Ballon. I can say that his direct and indirect influence contributed to the choice of career that I embrace. On Friday evening, May 25, I will remember him in what I believe is the most appropriate way, first by telling my congregation about “my rabbi” and then delivering one of his sermons.

While today I teach my Confirmation students that when we die there are many paths of immortality, some of which are rational and some are simply matters of faith. Rabbi Ballon taught me that we continue in life by the deeds we perform and the lessons that we teach. Whether it be in the Yeshivah shel Maalah, the heavenly academy, or through the words and deeds that impacted our lives, Rabbi Sidney Ballon continues to live. His memory alone is a blessing.

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The Sabbath, A Reform Perspective -- 3/14/52

Rabbi Sidney Ballon delivered this sermon shortly after arriving at the Nassau Community Temple in West Hempstead, Long Island, New York where he spent most of his career.[i] He offers a clear message to his new congregation about the importance of Sabbath observance. The challenge he seemed to be facing was that because Reform Judaism had eliminated some traditional observances that were deemed inessential in modern times, many concluded that other fundamental rituals and commandments were also eliminated—a common misconception. He felt it was every Jew’s moral obligation to observe the Sabbath perhaps as much for the survival of Judaism as for the personal benefits such observance might render the individual.

...it is possible to pay tribute to the Sabbath in some fitting and joyful manner if the will to do so exists, and if we are concerned with Judaism and its future we should have the will.

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Rabbi Ballon probably in the 1950s

For our Torah reading this evening[ii] we have read one of the earliest Biblical passages that deals with the Sabbath, and if you are at all observant you will have noticed that the passage ended with verses which are also used as part of the liturgy of the Sabbath evening service[iii]. I touched upon modern Sabbath observance during our discussion of religious school matters several weeks ago, but since it is the theme of the Torah portion this evening let us pursue it a bit further.

The Sabbath is the most important and perhaps the oldest religious observance in Jewish life. It is the only Jewish observance mentioned in the Ten Commandments[iv] which is one the oldest sections  of the Bible. It is the only day of the week which in the Hebrew language has a specific name. And in the section read this evening and repeated on almost all Sabbaths it is referred to as the sign of the covenant between God and Israel. In other words Sabbath observance was the distinguishing characteristic of the faithful Jew.

I believe this ancient concept of the Sabbath still applies in large measure today. The Sabbath is a sort of barometer of Jewish life. So are a number of Jewish festivals, but none so tests Jewish sensitivities as the Sabbath. When feeling for the Sabbath is strong, the Jewish spirit is also strong. When it is weak, the Jewish spirit is also weak. Judaism without the Sabbath is a contradiction in terms. The poet Bialik[v] called the Sabbath the cornerstone of Jewish life[vi] and Achad Ha-am[vii], the Hebrew writer said, something also found in our prayer book that, “Even as Israel has kept the Sabbath so the Sabbath has kept Israel.” Sabbath observance makes for Jewish survival.

We have seen this in Jewish history. Jews have suffered in so many periods. The total pressure applied to Jewish life was such as could have broken a stronger people, but Israel had a way of relieving this pressure. It was only psychological but it was effective. The change of mood and the change of pace on the Sabbath refreshed his spirit and built in him a sense of dignity, of renewed his hope and faith, in a manner which could not be destroyed. He may have lived in the ghetto bent and broken all the week but on the Sabbath he was a king who went forth to meet the Sabbath bride, and the sharp contrast with the rest of his existence strengthened him for the week to come.

There is a mistaken notion current among many Reform Jews that the Sabbath, as well as all other observances, is no longer considered very important to individual Jews and each person is free to neglect them if he is so inclined and does not thereby violate the spirit of Reform Judaism. Nothing could be further from the truth. Reform Judaism had made changes in practice but not in principle. Reform Judaism has cast aside many of the restrictions with regard to the Sabbath that it feels are impractical and meaningless in a modern world, but it has not case aside the Sabbath altogether. The original spirit of the Sabbath even with all the orthodox regulations was a joyful one. In days gone by even the restrictions were tings joyfully observed. today life has changed. These restrictions tend to have an opposite effect and do not achieve the same result as in former times and so Reform has made changes in order not to acquire for the Jewish Sabbath the bleak and dismal characteristics of a 17th century Calvinist Sunday. We do not want the Sabbath to seem forbidding and austere and so those elements which in modern times have had that effect have been eliminated but the things we can do to retain the sweet mystic quality of the Sabbath and keep its joyful religious overtones have been retained and improved upon in Reform Judaism. It is still the sign of the covenant between God and Israel and the distinguishing mark of the good Jew.

Reform Judaism still recognizes the contribution that the Sabbath can make to strengthening our family life. We Jews have had a reputation for strong home life. It is a deserved one. Jewish families which have kept close to Jewish traditions show less tendency to break than any other groups.  And the basic reason has been the religious observances in the home such as the Sabbath which have fostered a spirit of love and devotion in the home and cemented family ties. A prayer recited together with a child, a candle with religious ceremony the wine cup lifted for Kiddush[viii] all create family moods and family memories which last throughout life. The nostalgia of such memories also makes for a Jewish consciousness and a sense of Jewish identification which it is difficult to shake off. And Reform Judaism still feels that there is no better way to develop a joyful positive attitude toward Judaism in ourselves and in our children than by bringing into the home some of the rich ceremonial life which is inherent in the acknowledgement of the Sabbath.  

Reform Judaism also advocates Synagogue attendance on the Sabbath. It still feels that living as good Jews makes necessary the quiet contemplation of Jewish values and ideals, which is what we do when we gather for prayer of Friday evenings.  It helps broaden our Jewish knowledge and for many of us our only source of Jewish knowledge is what we [find] in the Synagogue. It strengthens and expresses our identification with the Jewish community and we do draw strength and comfort from each other, otherwise this congregation would never have been founded. And we particularly need the refreshing quiet of the sanctuary, as our prayer book[ix] words it, to offset some of the feverish Jewish activity of the rest of the week.

The Jewish community in this country is suffering today from “active-itis”. Organizations of all types are working at fever pitch. Committees are madly working on projects and meeting incessantly. Think of your own activities. Money for multitude of projects is being squeezed out of the public. There is no doubt that most of this is good and necessary. But sometimes we may well wonder whether we are not overdoing the mechanics of building Jewish organizations and are forgetting the primary goal of learning to live Jewishly ourselves as individuals. A synagogue cannot merely function as a money raising institution. The point of our projects and money raising must not be lost sight of. Our organizational activities have to be supplemented with periods of worship and study, and therefore Sabbath worship is essential. It helps us keep things in proper perspective. In the long run when we avail ourselves of the spiritual motivation and power that comes from the Synagogue, the organizational work will also benefit and attain higher goals.

Reform Judaism also recommends a change of mood and change of pace whenever possible on the Sabbath. Reform has chosen to ignore many of the former restrictions on Sabbath activity but it did not intend to make of the Sabbath just another day of the week. The keynote of Reform Judaism with regard to the Sabbath is change and recreation of body and spirit. In the Talmud the Rabbis suggest the worker who spends his week in physical labor should on the Sabbath engage in the study of Torah and the student who toils at his studies thru the week should on the Sabbath seek other pleasures. these Rabbis were quite liberal in their interpretation and thus present pretty much the same point of view as Reform Judaism. Let the Sabbath be a change from the daily routine.  The household activity and shopping routine of the week should be avoided. The Sabbath should be given over to things that are restful and relaxing and pleasing. There should be a touch of Jewishness in the home which ordinarily is not part of the weekday pattern.  There should be a moratorium on hustle and bustle. That is the Reform prescription for the Sabbath and each one is the best judge as to how the Sabbath may best be observed by him, if he sincerely considers the question.

It is true that Sabbath observance even in Reform manner is at a low ebb today, and various factors in the environment tend to detract us even from considering the possibility of some Sabbath observance. But it is possible to pay tribute to the Sabbath in some fitting and joyful manner if the will to do so exists and if we are concerned with Judaism and its future we should have the will. Once a beginning has been made and a habit pattern established it becomes easy from thereon.

There is a legend that two ministering angels accompany each Jew from the Synagogue on each Sabbath—one good and one bad. If the Jew comes home to a finely set Sabbath table prepared for Kiddush with Sabbath candles and there is a good Sabbath meal waiting, the good one says, “May the next Sabbath be also thus,” and the evil angel is forced to say, “Amen.” [If, on the other hand, they arrive at a home  with no Kiddush or Sabbath candles or Sabbath meal waiting, the evil angel says, “May the next Sabbath be also thus,” and the good angel is forced to say, “Amen.”] It is all a matter of some slight effort and a bit of will and we will be on our way to the fashioning of good Jewish homes which will be a source of joy and strength to us, our children, and all Israel.

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[i] Ballon served the Nassau Community Temple from December 1951 to August 1974.

[ii] The weekly portion read in virtually all synagogues was Ki Tissa  in which God repeated the commandment regarding the sanctity of the Sabbath day. "Above all you shall keep my Sabbaths, for this is a sign between me and you throughout your generations, that you may know that I, the LORD, sanctify you" (Exod. 31:13)

[iii] The reference is probably to the V'shomru prayer: "Thus shall the children of Israel observe the Sabbath, to make the Sabbath throughout their generations as an everlasting covenant." (וְשָׁמְרוּ בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶת הַשַּׁבָּת לַעֲשׂוֹת אֶת הַשַּׁבָּת לְדֹרֹתָם בְּרִית עוֹלָם)

[iv] Exodus 20:8 Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. 20:9 Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work; 20:10 but the seventh day is a sabbath unto the Lord thy God, in it thou shalt not do any manner of work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates; 20:11 for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested on the seventh day; wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it. Jewish Publication Society

[v] Chayim Nachman Bialik (1873 –1934), was a Jewish poet who wrote primarily in Hebrew but also in Yiddish. Bialik was one of the pioneers of modern Hebrew poetry and came to be recognized as Israel's national poet.

[vi] “Sabbath is the cornerstone of Judaism, and it is not without cause that it is called the ‘sign of the covenant’ between God and the Children of Israel. In the Sabbath are enfolded many national and social concepts. If in the Ten Commandments is enfolded the whole Torah, then in the Sabbath are probably enfolded all the Ten Commandments.”

[vii] Asher Zvi Hirsch Ginsberg (1856 - 1927), primarily known by his Hebrew name and pen name, Ahad Ha'am, was a Hebrew essayist, and one of the foremost pre-state Zionist thinkers.

[viii] Kiddush, literally, "sanctification," is a blessing recited over wine or grape juice to sanctify the Shabbat and Jewish holidays.

[ix] The Union Prayer Book, 1937 edition, published by the Central Conference of American Rabbis to serve the needs of the Reform Judaism movement in the United States was in use by Nassau Community Temple at this time.