Generations

I have been thinking about the inscription on the northeast corner of Sinai Temple, where I come to work everyday: l’dor v’dor. Partly, it has been on my mind since I returned from the Builders of Jewish Education’s and Partnership for Excellence in Jewish Education’s co-hosted citywide celebration of the Generations L.A. Endowment Program. And partly it has been on my mind because last week my Bubbe and Zayde turned 90. 

My Bubbe and Zayde—at age 90—are flying out to Los Angeles to celebrate, feeling that a party would not be a party without their great-grandchildren (I have three daughters under five). Why, then, are they only staying four days?

I recently called my Zayde to encourage him to stay longer…. “What is the rush to get back?” I said. “Stay, we would love to have you. You’ll come to us for Shabbat. You will visit our school.”

“Sarah,” my Zayde said, “I am just too busy. I can’t leave for that long.” With most other 90 year olds, the hidden message would have been adherence to routine, a preference for a particular challah at the local baker, not wanting to miss his Rabbi’s sermon, etc. Not my Zayde. He performs comedy routines for people with Alzheimers.  He runs a social group called MEL Men enjoying leisure. He writes poetry (in fact, he has published four books). He is fixing my brother up with eligible women while playing bridge. He does pro bono accounting work and even maintains a few paying clients. He has too much to do. He is as alive today than at any other time in my life. He approached life with an urgency and an energy that we would all envy. When he is called to answer, as in the story of the Hasidic Rabbi Zusya—Were you the best version of yourself? Did you fulfill your work in the world?—everyone who knows him is sure what his answer will be. 

Throughout the story of Abraham and Sarah, God had promised them two things: children and a land. But when Sarah dies at 127 years old, Abraham has no land that he can call his own and only one child—Isaac, unmarried at the time of Sarah’s death—who will continue the covenant. Neither promise has been fulfilled. In the final years of Abraham’s life, he lives with an urgency informed by his own mortality. He purchases land and goes on an ardent quest to find his son Isaac an appropriate wife. 

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes the extraordinary level of detail the Torah uses to describe this purchase and this quest. “There is a moral here, and the Torah slows down the speed of the narrative, so that we will not miss the point. God promises, but we have to act. God promised Abraham the land, but he had to buy the first field. God promised Abraham many descendants, but Abraham had to ensure that his son was married, and to a woman who would share the life of the covenant, so that Abraham would have, as we say today, ‘Jewish grandchildren’.”

What is significant about this narrative is that God does not act alone. We have the free will and therefore the responsibility to partner with God, to feel a sense of urgency and do the work of the world. 

The work of the world can be overwhelming, and the Jewish community certainly felt this way when the Pew Study came out last year, which all but forecast the demise of our community (or, at the very least, the non-orthodox Jewish community). I am proud that in the face of this report, Sinai Akiba Academy—and other day schools around the country—threw itself fully into the work of proving this study wrong. We launched our Generations Endowment Campaign, which is part of a national program, with urgency and enthusiasm. We also launched it with an ambitious goal of building at least a $40 million endowment to make Sinai Akiba affordable for any family interested in receiving a Jewish education at our dynamic school.  

This generation of parents at Sinai Akiba, my generation, lives in an America where the Jewish community has achieved unparalleled financial, political, and social success. We are wealthier and more influential than at any other time in our nation’s history. Many of us were born into a world where Israel existed and an America where anti-Semitism was largely quiet. And yet, we have done a very poor job securing the Jewish future. We have built symphony halls and art museums and universities. But we have not built our schools to last. We have not given enough to ensure that Jewish day schools will be here for our great-grandchildren. This is our work in the world. And there is no question that it is urgent work.     

My Zayde taught me about urgency. I have lived away from Chicago for nearly 18 years, and whenever I call him, he is ecstatic to hear from me. Then, he quickly rushes me off the phone. “You go, Sarah,” he says every time we talk. “I know you are busy. Go work hard and be good.” The message: There is much to be done in the world, so get to it. 

Sarah Shulkind, E.d. D., is the head of Sinai Akiba Academy