An Ethical Will -- 3/26/48

During the Middle Ages it was the custom for dying fathers to leave their children not only a will disposing of the physical assets of the parent but also something called an ethical will in which the parent offered to his offspring some advice with regard to their future behavior and some thoughts about life in general...

My heart skipped a beat when I read the opening lines of this 1948 sermon—my father’s farewell remarks to Tree of Life Congregation of Columbia, South Carolina before departing to his next pulpit in Lexington, Kentucky. It has only been a few years since I, myself, wrote an ethical will which I shared with my family, a few friends, and essentially the rest of the entire world after posting it to my website.[i] The concept of an ethical will had never been discussed when I was young, so I was delighted to learn that my father not only knew of my recent discovery, but more importantly had written this sermon to be his own ethical will. While I look at the entire archives of his sermons as his ethical, spiritual and intellectual legacy, this sermon stands out in this regard.

The thesis herein is what it takes to be a “good Jew.” There is something about my father’s use of the terms “good Jew,” “real Jew,” and “loyal Jew” which may seem a bit jarring in an age of ecumenicism and political correctness. Nonetheless, the message is a cogent one. How many people these days would even pose the question, “What does it take to be a good Jew?”  Sidney Ballon’s answer was profound in 1948, and remains so.

After describing the traits of a good Jew, he closes with what he refers to as “a word of caution of a personal nature.” This stirring conclusion in many ways could have been his epitaph—his ethical will condensed into two words—“Carry on.”

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My Dear Friends:

During the Middle Ages it was the custom for dying fathers to leave their children not only a will disposing of the physical assets of the parent but also something called an ethical will in which the parent offered to his offspring some advice with regard to their future behavior and some thoughts about life in general, and there have been preserved for us a number of such documents with very fine and profound material dealing with ethical and moral questions. A departing rabbi, I believe is likewise expected to leave some profound last words, an ethical will to his congregation. I do not expect to be very profound. The mood of last night’s delightful get-together with its pleasant and light touch is still with me and it would be difficult to get profound even if I were able. But if they will not be profound last words, they unfortunately must at least be last words, and they should be somewhat serious words because the task in which we have been cooperating these past few years is a serious task and the situation which confronts Jewish life today is a serious one. 

I thought back over the few years since I first came here and thought of what I had to say that first time that I spoke to you and I found that my message then was on how to draw comfort and how to face the world in the midst of the serious problems confronting the Jew in that time. It was 1939, just before the war in Europe, and the crescendo of hate and fury against our people was mounting. Today my friends after having fought a war, a second war to preserve the world and save human decency it is saddening to note that Jewish troubles are not over, that war has served only to put six million Jews out of their misery, and it has taken from us the sanguine pre-war hopes for redemption and salvation. The struggle is on, and although there was a faint gleam in the sky, the dawn has not yet come. These critical times make it all the more difficult for a rabbi to prescribe for his people, for even the rabbi of today is troubled and faced with uncertainties before the difficulties of the moment.

But there are one or two traits of Jewish character that I think of that I would call to your attention on such an occasion as this, traits that I believe mark the good Jew today without regard to the particular brand of Judaism he espouses or the particular solution he may have in mind for Jewish problems and [these should not be controversial in nature.] And so I say to you that to be a good Jew in these days our first consideration must be to have a love of fellow Jews. I came across a new poem recently written by Rabbi Louis Newman[ii] of New York that I think expresses this perfectly and I read it to you. It is entitled, “When I Shall Die,” and he says:

When I shall die, may I win praise or blame

As one who little prized an honored name

For deed he wrought within the marketplace

Which pleased the fancies of the populace.

But I demand that men shall give me due

As one who loved his anguished fellow-Jew

Who tilled a plot of scorned forsaken earth

And helped it give eternal harvest birth.

As one who loved his anguished fellow-Jew—this is one of the prime requisites today of the real Jew. No man today can call himself a loyal Jew unless he feels and feels deeply the plight of his co-religionists abroad, unless he has been shaken and quivers within himself at the fate of world Jewry these past few years and at the gigantic hoax and betrayal that have been perpetrated upon Israel at present. He who does not respond to the plea of the hour whether it be through the United Jewish Appeal or some other way of indicating one's sympathy and indignation has ice water in his veins and not Jewish blood.

And a second trait of Jewish character that comes to my mind is this—and I hope that I can make it understood because I’m afraid that it is more of an emotional feeling rather than a clearly defined trait of character. The good Jew and the loyal Jew should have a sense of identification with the sweep of Jewish history as it has traversed the centuries. The good Jew does not conceive of himself as an isolated individual living in the twentieth century and confining his interests to this particular period of world history. The good Jew feels strongly his roots in dim antiquity. He cherishes deeply his ancestry going back to the days of Abraham, and there is pictured vividly in his mind the story of his people as they came into and departed from Egypt, as they went into the land of Canaan and gave birth to the ideals of the western world, and as they studied and taught and suffered and hoped through the many centuries in many lands down to this very day. He feels this as a part of his personal experience. He is entranced by the destiny of Israel and feels himself as a part of that destiny. And he looks not only at the past but ahead into the dim future, and although darkness prevails at the moment, he is confident and he is essentially an optimist as to the outcome. With all his heart and soul he believes that they that sow in tears shall reap in joy,[iii] that sorrow shall be turned into gladness and mourning into a good day as the Book of Esther[iv] has it.

And thirdly we here in this country, if we are good and loyal Jews, need a sense of obligation for American Jewry as a whole. We need an appreciation of the destiny of the Jews in this country. If we are aware of Jewish history we know that there has been one center after another in the lands of dispersion which have nourished and maintained the Jewish faith. We have had Babylon and North Africa, and Spain and Poland, and others, and each in its turn on the stage of history has played a heroic role in the life of our people and been the center of culture and faith. It is now American Jewry that must carry the torch and that must accept the responsibility. We are now numerically the strongest and financially the soundest and have a great role to play in the history of the Jew even with a Jewish center in Palestine, and the loyal American Jew senses the challenge. He supports those institutions of learning which nurture Judaism, he sustains the Synagogue which is the dynamo of Jewish life. There is a tendency today amongst American Jews to give their devotion and their dollars chiefly to those causes which deal with relief and with defense and to disregard to a large degree those causes which speak of the more intangible values of culture and religion. We dare not forsake these, however, for if we have a Jewish heart we must surely know that without the preservation of our culture and our faith we shall soon lose the incentive to do other things as well. It is not only physical life that must be our interest but our spiritual life as well, and American Jewry caries the greatest responsibility in this regard.

These are some of the chief qualities of the good Jew, things which we feel intuitively, things which are difficult to describe, but which must be carefully nurtured and developed within our hearts if Jewish life is to be meaningful and strong. And as I leave these thoughts with you I should like to add a word of caution of a more personal nature. I should like to refer to a number of remarks I have heard from good people who are my friends and who think they pay me a great compliment by these remarks, but who actually leave me somewhat saddened by them. On several occasions I have heard the remark that now that I am leaving they would not have such great responsibilities to the Synagogue, because they really had either joined or contributed or were active out of a sense of friendship for the rabbi personally. Now with a new rabbi they would have no reason to continue to the same extent, or to any extent, their association with the Synagogue. 

My friend I appreciate the friendship and I cherish it, but if all that I have been able to leave with you is a sense of personal friendship, then I have failed. Because my ministry has sought to instill in you and in all this community the qualities and feelings that I have already described to you. And if I had succeeded in this, then it would make no difference who stood in this pulpit. You would know that such a great work is above any one personality, and that such a great work must be carried on regardless of personalities. And if there is any one word which I would make my last it is the prayer that you would not let that which we have so carefully built up together slide back. Maintain your ground here and go on further. A new man will give you new insights. You will have fresh incentive and fresh inspiration. Build your new Temple and fill it with your prayers and with your love. And carry on for your sake and for your children’s sake and for the sake of all Israel. I would hate to think that I have given to you these years of activity only to have these efforts go to waste. And you will be paying me much more of a tribute by carrying on your efforts than by informing me that after all it was only for me. Carry on I say to you as my parting wish. Carry on. Remembering always that—

It is a tree of life to them that lay hold of it.

And all the supporters thereof are happy.[v]

And may God bless you in your endeavors. Amen.

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[i] http://yeshaya.net/

[ii] Louis Israel Newman (1893-1972) was the rabbi of Temple Rodef Shalom in New York City from 1930 until retirement. Newman was also a poet and a playwright, creating numerous plays and cantatas.

[iii] Psalm 126:5

[iv] Esther 9:22

[v] Proverbs 3:18 One can only imagine the quiet glee with which Sidney Ballon crafted this not too subtle reminder to the members of Tree of Life Congregation of their continuing obligation to be "supporters thereof."

The War and You -- 12/12/1941

This sermon was delivered at an historic moment—the first Shabbat evening service after Japan’s brutal attack on Pearl Harbor and the declarations of war. When confronted by the harsh reality of defending the world from totalitarianism Ballon could easily have dismissed all of his youthful idealism and the pacifism he espoused from his student pulpit in the 1930’s[i]. Instead he carefully wove a multifaceted message, railing against those whose political and economic policies after the first world war led to this conflagration, while rallying his congregants in an hour of confusion and despair to face the challenges ahead.

It remains for us but to keep our morale high, to keep our faith in our way of life, to keep our nerve in the face of the blistering mad men who already see the handwriting on the wall.

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Since last we met for Sabbath worship, a great shock has come to our nation. As a result of a sudden and treacherous attack by the navy of Japan, as a result of the declaration of war upon us by Germany and Italy, our government has been left with no choice but to declare war in return and to throw itself fully and actively into the world struggle which began a little over two years ago. We had felt for a long time that at some future date we, too, might find ourselves in the war. We had been preparing for such an emergency. We had already been accustomed to see the sight of large numbers of men in uniform, and yet the blow, when it did come, came at such an unexpected moment and was delivered with such fury and effectiveness, that Americans, in spite of all preparation, were left stunned and unbelieving.

The involvement at last of the United States brings a few troubled thoughts to our mind. We cannot help but think of the vain labor of all the peace organizations that were active in the twenties and the early thirties. We cannot help but remember the peace pledges that many of us signed as idealistic students in those days. We think of the ministers, such as Stephen Wise[ii] and John Haynes Holmes[iii] who rose in their pulpits and condemned themselves for supporting the last war and who promised never to lend their pulpits to the support of another. We remember the idealistic propaganda that laboring people all over could easily stop war by refusing to produce the materials of war. We remember the statements that war could be brought to an end easily by the simple refusal of men to refuse to bear arms. We think also of how religious institutions were condemned because they gave their blessing to those who fought. We think of these things of the past and sigh in the face of the realities of the present. We especially, who are faced with the responsibility of leading men from the pulpit, and who have so frequently spoken of the ugliness of war, we are especially disturbed by these thoughts. What will those men say who promised never to support another war? What will happen to the pledges of yesterday? What choice do we have today? The jingoists, and those who cried preparedness and opposed disarmaments will now cry, I told you so. Are they right and all the others wrong? Are idealists all fools?

In spite of these troublesome thoughts, the fact remains that no one can withdraw from the struggle. The war is upon us and it must be supported to the full regardless of our dreams of peace in the past. It is idle to think back over our futile efforts to have peace but this does not mean that the jingoists who cried for more armaments were right. Not at all. The roots of this war go back to our economic and political actions after the last, and those who opposed disarmament and international cooperation are among those responsible. Regardless, however, of our lack of foresight in the past, we must face the realities of the present. We know that when a patient does not follow the proper diet, he is subject to disease, but when the disease comes, if we are interested in the life of the patient we must fight it at once, and if a major bloodletting operation is necessary, we have no choice. We can only hope that when the patient recovers the lesson will not have been lost upon him and that he will not be so careless with himself in the future. We know now that the wrong political diet brought on the present calamity, it could have been prevented in the beginning, but now the situation being what it is regretfully but full heartedly we must proceed with the operation which alone can save the patient, and we can only hope that the patient will not listen to the “I told you so’s” of those who helped mislead him in the first place.

When the news of the war first came to us, it was quite natural for us to become quite emotional and upset. We would scarcely have been human if it had been otherwise, but now that we have had time to absorb the shock there are several things that we should tell ourselves. First, we must realize that we cannot continue in the same confused state of mind as we found ourselves in at the beginning. In time of emergency there is no place for hysterical emotion. The most elementary course in first-aid will teach us that when an emergency occurs the person who gives way to weeping and wailing is of no use whatsoever and is in the way. Cool deliberate thinking is required. This does not mean we are to be indifferent to what goes on, but it means that our senses are to be organized for effective response to the demands of the situation. Insofar as possible and consistent with the emergency, our personal and community life must continue in a normal manner. For example, we in Columbia,[iv] like any other community, have our organizations and we make plans for their activities. We should not permit ourselves to become so upset emotionally as to hinder or suspend the normal functioning of these organizations or to drop all plans for the future because of fear due to the war. To refuse to carry on is to play into the hands of the enemy. It means we are frightened and confused. It means we are filled with a spirit of defeatism, and this to the enemy is worth more than his planes and his bombs. Above all we must not become demoralized and panicky.

The description of Congress that came over the radio during the broadcasts dealing with the various declarations of war was impressive. Monday when Roosevelt spoke[v], Congress was excited. A constant hum of noise could be heard throughout the gathering until the president actually began speaking and when he finished there was an almost hysterical applause. On Thursday, however, Congress was calm. The first flush of excitement had passed. Congress was down to business in a serious calm manner. We must take our cue from the National legislature. Or outbursts of emotion must yield to quiet reason.

To continue to function in a normal manner, however does not mean to overlook that we are actually in a state of emergency. We cannot hope to remain completely unaffected by the situation. The need for defense will cause the government to call upon us all in one way or another. And even if we do not find ourselves actually in the armed forces, there will be things for us to do. War in these days is not for armies and navies alone. Total war involves the whole population, and there will no doubt be something for all of us to do. As the organization of defense proceeds there will undoubtedly be more and more calls for service. Thus far the radio constantly reminds us to buy defense bonds. Calls have been sent out for women to report to the filter centers. There is the Red Cross, the Volunteer Bureau of the Defense Recreation Committee, the U.S.O. centers which need civilian help in carrying on their important task of helping morale. It is time to think of what we are going to do with ourselves. It’s time to cut out the extravagances and indulgences to which we have been accustomed. We have to learn to do with less and not complain. We have to learn to conserve our energies and to stop wasting time. Idle pleasures must give way to more purposeful activity. There is a death struggle before us, and everyone must lend a hand.

In this task we shall be strengthened by the knowledge that what we are struggling to protect is a precious heritage and is worth the effort. On Dec 15th, next Monday we celebrate in this country the 150th anniversary of the Bill of Rights. This bill of rights for a century and a half has been the foundation and guarantee of American democracy. It has secured for every American freedom of conscience and religion. It has secured freedom of speech and of the press and of assembly. It has secured the citizens of this country against unreasonable demands by the government. It has guaranteed to all fair treatment before the Law. It was proclaimed guard the dignity of every human being and to recognize his value. It was the official proclamation that government exists for the sake of the people, to protect their well-being and their interests. In the governments of our enemies such a bill of rights is meaningless. To them human life is valueless. People exist only to do the bidding of the state. The whim of the state is law and against the people have no recourse. They hate freedom. And their ambition is only to enslave the world and make themselves its master. Hitler, in speaking to the Reichstag this week when he made his declaration of war against the United States, said that this struggle will determine history for centuries to come. This is perhaps the only truth he has ever spoken. History will be determined for centuries to come. This struggle will determine whether man will have a chance to continue to develop his democratic institutions, to continue the type of government which cherishes a Bill of Rights, or must submit as slaves to a master state and the rule of brute force. Lincoln once said the union could not exist half free and half slave. The same is true of the world today. It is either Hitler’s way or ours. There is no compromise. And if it is his way that wins out, the law of the jungle will be the only law and everything that gives life dignity and beauty will be destroyed.

Fortunately though the situation is serious, it is not hopeless. We have the resources to win. We may accept the word of our president that the outcome is not in doubt. The blow against us is but the desperate struggle of a cornered rat, and though it may take time to kill the rat, his fate is sealed. It remains for us but to keep our morale high, to keep our faith in our way of life, to keep our nerve in the face of the blistering mad men who already see the handwriting on the wall.

The prayer of the chaplain in Congress yesterday was a beautiful thing. It was stirring, inspiring and full of faith. In it he quoted the psalmist who said, “Though weeping may tarry for the night, joy cometh in the morning.”[vi] Let us gird ourselves to endure the weeping of the night but let us look forward hopefully, optimistically, and with faith to the joy that will come with the morning.

Amen

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[i] See Shall We Fight Again? -- 11/13/36 http://harav-shimon.blogspot.com/2012/01/shall-we-fight-again-111336.html

[ii] Stephen Samuel Wise (born Weisz, 1874 –1949) was an Austro-Hungarian-born American Reform rabbi and Zionist leader.

[iii] John Haynes Holmes (1879–1964) was a prominent Unitarian minister and pacifist, noted for his anti-war activism.

[iv] This sermon was delivered at Tree of Life Congregation in Columbia, South Carolina,

[v] Monday, December 8, 1941, President Franklin D. Roosevelt delivered an address to a Joint Session of Congress in which he famously described the previous day as "a date which will live in infamy".

[vi] Psalm 30:5

Thou Shalt Tell -- 4/17/59

The rabbis of the shtetl used to give but two sermons a year. One of these was on the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur—Shabbat Teshuva—the Sabbath of Return. The other was on the Shabbat preceding Passover—Shabbat Hagadol—the Big Sabbath. It might have seemed big because the rabbi would give lengthy detailed instructions on Passover observance. Rabbi Sidney Ballon—a modern suburban American rabbi—delivered a sermon virtually every week. I’m not sure whether it was he or another rabbi who once told me that rabbis tend to have only five sermons anyway—meaning that there are only a handful of topics on which they preach repeatedly, in one form or another, throughout their careers in the pulpit. 

One of Rabbi Ballon’s most frequented topics was that of the failure of many modern Jews to be knowledgeable of their heritage, and to demonstrate genuine concern and involvement in Jewish life. The theme of apathy and ignorance underlies a vast number his sermons. Based on the Biblical injunction to teach our children the story of our redemption from slavery at the Passover seder each year, this Shabbat Hagadol sermon focuses more on the positive aspect of these themes by emphasizing the need for education in and commitment to living a full Jewish life—not only for our children’s sake, but for ourselves as well.

If Jewish life is to continue meaningfully we shall have to overcome this tendency to live our Judaism by proxy and restore our individual selves to the center of Jewish living.

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Tonight in Jewish tradition is one of the most important Sabbath Eves of the year. It is the Sabbath before Passover and is known as Shabbos Hagadol, the Great Sabbath. On this Sabbath all good Jews looked forward to the holiday to come and the rabbis reminded their people of the proper manner of observance and the meaning of the festival. Of course, we hardly need to be reminded of the basic significance of Passover. Its main theme is fundamental in Jewish thinking. Passover brings us a glorious story of a people’s march to freedom, of the birth of a nation, and this episode, with the preceding centuries of slavery, is the sharpest memory that Jews have preserved from the past. Over and over again the Bible refers to it, and because of this experience Jews are urged to treasure freedom and to oppose oppression not only for themselves but for everyone.

But there are also other implications of the festival that can be found, certain minor themes which form the background for the major one. And one of these is the reminder of the role of the individual in keeping and transmitting our faith. In the Passover story in the Book of Exodus we read,

V’higadta l’vanecha—thou shalt tell thy son in that day saying: It is because of that which the Lord did for me when I came forth out of Egypt.[i]

Here is a commandment [that places the emphasis on][ii] the individual Jew to tell his offspring the story of the Jewish past, and not only that but a reminder that what happened to the Jewish people collectively must also be considered as something done for each and every Jew personally. There is a personal involvement reflected in both the responsibility for transmitting the story of the Passover and in our concept of its significance. The Jew is not told to send his child to school for Jewish information; he is not to send his child to the priest or to the temple for instruction. Thou shalt tell him. And this does not just mean a responsibility for telling or giving information. Transmission of our Jewish heritage is more than a telling. It is a living. It is setting an example. It is the creating of a home with Jewish atmosphere and Jewish feeling. This is the primary means we have of influencing our children.

To bear this out we have but to note that the most important aspect of Passover observance is the Seder[iii], a home ceremony which is celebrated in intimate family surroundings—a ceremony which creates a special Jewish atmosphere in the home—a ceremony which emphasizes the role of the parents and encourages the child to ask questions so that the father may the better be able to instruct. To be sure this is a ceremony for the first nights of Passover only. We do not duplicate the procedure on any other occasion of the year, but its spirit is one which is basic to Jewish life at all times. Where is the child to get his Judaism? In the religious school? Of course, we must send children to school. In the temple?  Of course, we must train children in the art of worship and teach them to bow before the Almighty. But most important of all, the child must get his Judaism in the home. Thou shalt tell thy children. The power of home example determines more often than not whether a child will be responsive to temple and school. The attitude of the home will determine whether or not the child will take his temple and school seriously. The kind of Judaism that is practiced in the home determines the importance of Jewish attitudes and Jewish practices in the mind of the child. We see this all the time in our own school. Where parental attitudes are positive toward Judaism our children are susceptible to what we try to give them, and where we have problems with the children the likelihood is the parental attitudes are negative.[iv]

This personal involvement, however, is not merely a matter of influencing children. It is important for our own personal religious development and satisfaction—that a Jew functions best and assumes his Jewish responsibilities best when he feels himself personally involved in the Jewish story. The Haggada[v] for Seder tells us that each Jew must feel as if he himself had come forth out of Egypt. In the story of the four sons[vi], as a matter of fact, that son who does not feel personally concerned with the proceedings is called a rasha, a wicked one, and he is told that if he had been in Egypt he would not have been considered worthy of being redeemed. The Jewish story is not to be considered dry history out of the past. It is to be considered the story of our personal family tree. It is not just the collective ancestry of the Jewish people that was redeemed from Egypt, but our grandfathers, our fathers, even us, ourselves. This is the ideal Jewish attitude. And when we have such a close personal involvement with our tradition, then we are much more apt to exert ourselves with our Jewish responsibilities for the present. A man can sympathize with the needs of other families but he usually exerts greater effort and is ready to sacrifice for his own. We need, therefore, not just a warm feeling in our hearts for the collective entity of which we are a part—the Jewish people. We need a sense of family belongingness, of personal involvement in all that the Jewish people have accomplished or hope to accomplish in the present. We cannot say the Jewish people are the people of the book and shirk our own responsibility for studying that book. We cannot say the synagogue is important as a house of worship and then withdraw ourselves personally from participating in that worship. We cannot say the Jewish people need Israel or must maintain philanthropies and Jewish institutions, and forget our own personal responsibility for what the Jewish people must accomplish. We, the individuals, are the Jewish people. The Jewish people as a whole cannot accomplish more than any of its individuals is willing to do.

It is one of the problems of our time that Jewish loyalties and obligations are thought of in a collective sense, and we seem to forget the significance of the individual. Collectively we create synagogues and schools and are proud of Jewish causes and institutions, but personally we permit ourselves to be assimilated into the manner of the environment and homes are losing their Jewish stamp, our pattern of life is losing its Jewish flavor, and we think our Jewish institutions—religious, charitable, and Israel—can run without us. We want the synagogue to observe the Sabbath and the home is entirely wochidig[vii]. We want prayer in the synagogue, but the home is never humble and thankful. We want to teach Jewish ideals to our children, but in the home and marketplace it is what is practical and what is pleasurable that is most often followed.

Judaism was not meant to be compartmentalized. There is no such thing as a Jewish way to be followed in the synagogue and the school and a different standard for the home and the world at large. Everything we do is to have a background of Jewish meaningfulness, a unity of spirit.

Passover, through the Seder and its ritual, dramatizes the need for a personal Judaism as well as a group loyalty—the importance of a sense of personal involvement and commitment, a readiness to give to Jewish living and thinking a high priority in the scheme of things and not to make them secondary to convenience or conformity to the standards of the crowd.

Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan[viii] once pointed out that in former years each Jewish home hired a Shabbos goy[ix] who was supposed to be helpful around the house so that the family might keep the Sabbath without violation. Now he says, Jews hire rabbis who are supposed to keep the Sabbath for them so that families can break it without being troubled. If Jewish life is to continue meaningfully we shall have to overcome this tendency to live our Judaism by proxy and restore our individual selves to the center of Jewish living.

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[i] Exodus 13:8

[ii] Ballon typically typed every word of his sermons, double-spaced, allowing for insertions and corrections in the spaces between lines of text. Regrettably, some of his insertions are hand written and undecipherable, or on occasion the sense of the edit is clear even if the complete text has not been entered. In these cases I provide brackets to indicate that I have had to exercise some editorial judgment to make the language flow as it might have as he spoke the words from the pulpit.

[iii] The Passover Seder ("order, arrangement") is a Jewish ritual feast that marks the beginning of the Jewish holiday of Passover. The Seder is a ritual performed by a community or by multiple generations of a family, involving a retelling of the story of the liberation of the Israelites from slavery in ancient Egypt.

[iv] There were notable exceptions to this rule. It no doubt was a source of much frustration that Ballon’s two sons were often among the worst offenders when it came to religious school diligence and cooperation. Fortunately he did see the day when his first born, Rabbi Jeffrey Ballon ז״ל, became an ordained rabbi. I can only hope that he had the vision to foresee the day when I too would find deep meaning in so many of his words, and the heritage he so fervently tried to impart.

[v] The Haggada(h) is a Jewish text that sets forth the order of the Passover Seder.

[vi] The traditional Haggadah speaks of "four sons"—one who is wise, one who is wicked, one who is simple, and one who does not know to ask. Each of these sons phrases his question about the seder in a different way. The Haggadah recommends answering each son according to his question, using one of three verses in the Torah that refer to this exchange.

[vii] A simple translation from the Yiddish is "weekday" meaning, in this context, that Shabbat is no different than any other day of the week. Thanks to Cantor Murray Simon who, as a student at the Hebrew Union College cantorial program, was a student-cantor at Nassau Community Temple, and a close lifelong friend of the Ballons.

[viii] Mordecai Menahem Kaplan (1881-1983), was a rabbi, essayist and Jewish educator and the co-founder of Reconstructionist Judaism.

[ix] A Shabbos goy, (Yiddish) is a non-Jewish individual who regularly assists a Jewish individual or organization by performing certain acts on the Sabbath which are forbidden to Jews within Jewish law. The phrase is a combination of the word "Shabbos" meaning the Sabbath, and "Goy", which literally means "a nation" but colloquially and practically means a "non-Jew."