December 20, 2003

Aventura, Florida

My fellow congregants, my neighbors and dear friends, my special students and my family gathered here today:

I am so happy to be with you as I celebrate the Fiftieth Anniversary of my Bar Mitzvah. Thank you for sharing this milestone with me.

Just before my real Bar Mitzvah, fifty years ago, in the summer of 1953, I was a camper at Boy Scout Camp. In fact I attended Boy Scout Camp every summer as both a camper and then as a swimming counselor from 1952 to 1957.

Camp was a great place to go to be off the hot asphalt streets and cement sidewalks of New York City, and to go to the country, even for just a few weeks. Whenever I am in an evergreen forest now, my mind will immediately recall the sweet smell of the pine forest of Ten Mile River Boy Scout Reservation.

Since Ten Mile River was for all Scouts from the city, and there were thousands of us, the large camp was divided into smaller camps, divided by boroughs. For example, Brooklyn, the largest borough with the largest population, had four camps. We from the Bronx had one main camp, Camp Ranachqua, which had two divisions, Nianque and Stillwater.

Of course, at that time, many, many boys from The Bronx were from Observant Orthodox Jewish families. The rest of us were from, well, shall we say less observant families. So, Camp Nianque was a Kosher camp. And even though most of us were from those less observant families, all of the Jewish kids from PS 73, Troop 70, went to Camp Nianque where the Jewish dietary laws were strictly maintained in the dining hall. And we all went to Friday evening services.

I was there in August, 1953 at the time of Tisha B'av. I was almost thirteen at the time yet I don't think I had ever heard of that day in the Jewish calendar. I know now that is a sad day in the history of the Jewish people, the anniversary of several calamitous events for us; it is a day for fasting.

My buddy Allen Milman and I decided we would take the day off from our normal camp activities and observe the holiday. We went to morning services and stayed in our bunks and fasted. Others in the camp also decided to observe the fast. We did make it through the day, and wobbled our way to the dining hall that evening -- just a few of us -- all proud of our determination and achievement.

And speaking of that dining hall, one day there was a calamitous event. We were having lunch -- a dairy lunch using the yellow plastic dairy dishes and dairy silverware. On the table was a pitcher of milk and bread and butter. Out came the main course that afternoon -- spaghetti and tomato sauce ... and ... meatballs! Oy gevalt! Well, even those of us not so observant boys did take notice that the kitchen had erred. So what did we do? We kept on eating! Oy. A bruch!

After a big uproar, I think the word is tumult, the meal ended abruptly, and all the plastic dishes were quickly collected, and sent off to other camps. The silverware was another matter. The silverware was collected and put into a very large steel barrel filled with water. The barrel stood over a large campfire outside the dining hall. The water boiled and the camp Rabbi deemed the silverware fit again for use in the kosher camp.

I distinctly remember the wet and sparkling silverware gleaming and purified out in the sunshine that afternoon. I thought that G-d had sent down his blessing with the sunlight that shone on that silver.

One of my favorite activities at the camp was the enthusiastic singing and cheering that took place after almost every lunch and dinner. One song that is appropriate for Chanukah, our holiday today, was called "This Little Scouting Light of Mine . . . This little scouting light of mine, I'm going to let it shine. This little scouting light of mine, I'm going to let it shine. This little scouting light of mine, I'm going to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine."

The song has several verses, which mercifully I will not sing this morning. But some of us did find that song and others like it quite motivating. We stayed with The Boy Scouts for many years. In fact, my old buddy Allen Milman has won many awards and commendations, including the Silver Beaver Award, the most important award an adult can earn, for his fund raising efforts for the Boy Scouts in New York.

But little did we know at the time, I mean all of us Jewish kids from the Bronx attending Ten Mile River Boy Scout Camp in Narrowsburg, New York, in the Catskill Mountains, The Jewish Borscht Belt, where at Kaplan's Delicatessen in Monticello you could get the best pastrami sandwich north of Tremont Avenue, none of us nice Jewish boys from The Bronx knew that "This Little Scouting Light of Mine" was really a paraphrase of The Baptist spiritual song, "This Little Light of Mine," written by Harry Dixon Loes, an American sacred music educator. And, as that well-known Bronxite Casey Stengel once said, "You could look it up." Well, even unknowingly, we learned the spirit of ecumenism and tolerance and understanding at an early age.

And speaking of Light, beginning today and for the next eight days, we are celebrating The Festival of Lights. Chanukah. The Young Israel of Aventura Calendar gives this explanation: "Chanukah, The Festival of Dedication" also called "The Festival of Lights" commemorates the military victory of The Maccabees over The Hellenistic Syrians in 165 BCE. It is the triumph of the Jewish value of one G-d over paganism and idol worship and assimilation. It is the triumph of a small, determined group against a much more powerful force.

Chanukah also commemorates the miracle of the oil when The Maccabees rededicated and purified the Temple in Jerusalem. They searched for pure oil but could find only one small jar to light the candelabra for one day. Miraculously, the oil remained lit for eight days.

Since I was thinking about light, I went back to the very first verses of The Bible: "Let there be light . . . and G-d saw that it was good." The very first exclamation in The Bible, the very first utterance is, "Let there be light."

As we polish up the family menorah, or even craft a new one, we thank G-d for our holiday and the miracles He wrought; we thank Him for our light as we proceed to light up our colorful candles.

And we are told to share the light. Place the menorah near the window or even outside the home. We are told to share the light, share our traditions, our experience, our learning and our hopes for the future, to share all of this light with the world. Now Chanukah, like other holidays are family affairs.

In my family back in The Bronx, family gatherings inevitably led to card games. One game called Michigan Rummy was the favorite for both children and adults. Now, my Aunt Sue Taxier, the cleverest and most competitive card player in the family usually was the big winner. And my competitive younger sister Paula, of blessed memory, also tried her best to win.

Years later, Paula attended Michigan State University. Always the teacher, always the one to care about others and to share with everyone, and following our traditions, Paula lit her menorah in her dormitory to the astonishment of many of her classmates who had never seen a menorah and who probably had never even met a Jew.

So we have this menorah that can hold eight candles and one additional one, the one we use to light all the others. The custom is, on the first night to light one candle, the second night, two and so on.

Now, how do we place the candles in the menorah? We place them from right to left, the way we write Hebrew. From right to left. How should we light them? I read that it is proper to light them from left to right. Why? I do have a guess. We honor the newest candle and then go back to the first one. Remember the first exclamation? "Let there be light"? And so, we go back to that first candle, and we remember that G-d gave us the light.

At Chanukah, we have a tradition called Chanukah gelt. We give money to the children each night of the celebration. We are told to teach the children to give a portion of this extra money to charity.

I was reading the story of a man who each year goes to Wal-Mart. He picks a few items off the shelf and then waits in the checkout line behind a large family doing their holiday shopping. When the cashier rings up their total, he pays their bill.

Yes, we have all read of these good deeds, these mitzvahs, and perhaps we have emulated them in our own way. And we are pleased.

But I have to tell you, in my opinion, call me crazy, my dear friends and family, I am not so impressed. These kind acts, generous and important as they are, they are relatively easy.

It seems to me that "Let there be light" is a direct and personal command to all of us. There is other, more profound darkness to overcome. There is more difficult work.

Can we find the strength and the light within us so that finally we can cast aside our own prejudices and eliminate our own inflammatory words and hurtful language?

Can we get beyond the past hurts and wrongs done to us? Can we light a new light and unburden ourselves and make a new beginning? For me, this is the real meaning of Chanukah; this is the real Chanukah gelt.

So, let's look to the future and make some happy plans: In my extended family I can count at least three imminent Bar and Bat Mitzvas. Adam Taxier, Alison Spiegel and Joshua Spiegel. And if I know my nephew Jason Wiesenfeld and his father Stephen, and if I know Jason's wife Carrie and her parents, DeeDee and Richard Berkowitz, all very planful and detailed oriented, they are already planning a Bat Mitzvah for Chloe as well.

And me? If Hashem shall grant me another 5 or 10 or 25 years, let's do this again. After all, my mother lived a long life -- she passed away on her 87th birthday. My father is here with us today. I do promise you all one thing. My speech will be shorter.

A few of you have asked me, "Jan, why are you doing this? Why put yourself through all of this again?" In answer to the question "Why?" I will answer, "Why not?"

Why not come to synagogue and pray and thank G-d for our abundance and good fortune? Why not remember and rejoice and rededicate ourselves to our traditions just as The Maccabees did after their miraculous victory centuries ago?

As I recall my Bar Mitzvah only fifty years ago, I think that it must have been a thrilling moment for my parents Ruth Polatschek, the President of the Parent Teachers Association of PS 73 and Otto Polatschek, the Scoutmaster of Troop 70, to accompany their son, first to Synagogue at The Jewish Center of Highbridge, and then to the Park Terrace Caterers in The Bronx.

By the way, The Park Terrace was located at 161st Street and River Avenue. Does that intersection sound familiar? It is the address of another famous building -- once dreaded by all of us Brooklyn Dodger and New York Giants fans, but now the completely conquered, utterly vanquished Yankee Stadium. Defeated by our very own Maccabees from Miami.

How exciting it was for my parents and my sister and me to be greeted by our friends and neighbors and relatives that day.

At the head table were my close friends -- names you would expect and a few surprising ones. The usual suspects were Michael Kossove, and Billy Stern, and Stanley Margolis, and Michael Giller and David Heller. But my closest neighbors and very best friends were Bobby Van Lindt, and Freddy Van Lindt and Sean O'Reilly.

Sean actually caused a minor commotion when he was confronted by a disbelieving Maitre d' who could not believe that such a boy with such a name could be attending a Bar Mitzvah. Sean had to repeat his name several times before he received his table assignment. The Maitre d' must have thought that this redheaded freckle-faced kid was just another Bronx wise guy. All of those "boys" send their best wishes to us this morning.

My father's parents were there -- Rosa and Herman Polacek -- Riesel and Zvi Hershel ben Joseph ha Levy. I am wearing his tallit this morning.

My father's sister Aunt Ida and brother-in-law Uncle Bert Kiewe and Cousin Dorothy could not come from London, but they sent me a beautiful watch that I still wear on special occasions. My mother's father was there ... Harry Lifson . . . Yehoshua ben Avraham. He gave me the prayer book which I use this morning.

My mother's sister and brother in law -- Sue and Harry Taxier. Their son, my cousin Stanley could not attend. He was a GI at the time and he and his bride Roberta Bein were stationed in Indiana. But, they are with me today.

Uncle Abe Lifson could not make it. My sweet and talented Aunt Ida Lifson was there. And my mother's youngest sister Beatrice. Aunt Bea -- Stanley's and my favorite Aunt.

And let's not forget my cousin Stanley's new in-laws . . . Roberta's parents, Tillie and Freddy Bein, and their younger daughter Rene. Rene and Sean O'Reilly had a couple of dances together and made an attractive young couple that afternoon.

Also my mother's cousins, the Leafs and the Greenbergs came in from Long Island, and one cousin and her husband, the Savals, came from Providence.

And so, you have the answer to the question "Why?" The answer for me is to remember and rejoice and rededicate myself.

But, to conclude, there is another answer to your question "Why did I do this?" The answer lies in that bright glow of that sun-lit silverware fifty years ago; the answer lies in Paula's menorah at her school; in all of our menorahs this week, in all the lights and decorations and celebrations of this season. The answer lies in that first Biblical exclamation and in that little tune we sang at camp.

I do hope, my neighbors, and my friends and my students, and especially my family, I hope we will do G-d's work. . . and let our light shine . . . on each other . . . today . . . and always.

Shabbat Shalom