One more test for the RSS feed. We are testing an RSS feed that will go to our Facebook Fan Page and then to our new iPhone app which will be available shortly. We’ll also have a mobile website with the same data for Blackberry users. Stay tuned and thanks for bearing with our testing!

I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer. We are testing an RSS feed that will go to our Facebook Fan Page and then to our new iPhone app which will be available shortly. We’ll also have a mobile website with the same data for Blackberry users. Stay tuned and thanks for bearing with our testing!

Dan Levine

I am a child of the ’50s. I grew up in a working class neighborhood in Chicago, and my recollection is that none of my friends in elementary school lived in a house, had a dog, was ever on a boat, had liquor anywhere in sight or had divorced parents. And most of my friends had direct connections to Europe.

For some of us (like my own family), that meant grandparents who spoke with heavy accents, drank tea through a sugar cube clenched firmly between their teeth from glass cups, and openly thanked God for having brought them and their families to America. For others (also in my family), one or both of our parents were born in Europe and had some story of escape that became part of what it meant to grow up in the Albany Park neighborhood in those days.

Finally, for many of us, the presence of the Shoah was an active part of our homes every day; the loss, suffering and memory were part of the fabric of our lives. We were neighborhood kids for whom knowledge of uncles, aunts and cousins who were no more, displaced persons’ camps and starting over were normal. Although we didn’t know it, we lived in a bubble in which we were the golden answer to the Nazis. Whether we were Charlie Pitikowski, Harry Herrendorf, Mary Einhorn or dozens of others, we grew up to bear our own scars and, ultimately, our own promises to each other and our families to make up for what had come before us.

It was decidedly a mixed blessing to have such a community of Holocaust survivors, which included Hebrew school teachers, members of the ladies auxiliaries and even candy store owners. I recall one incident, in particular, when I was about 14 years old. I knocked on the back door of my best friend, Sam Borek, who lived next door, and Sam’s mom invited me in to wait, since Sam was due home soon. She offered me milk and cookies, and we sat together and started to chat. Mrs. Borek was so filled with memory that it wasn’t long before she opened up, telling me about her family, her time in the camps and the tattoo on her arm. She cried as she asked me to examine her left arm, to have a good look at it. To this day, I recall the impulse I had at that moment – an impulse I fully experienced but never shared. “But Mrs. Borek, let me go. Let me go home. I’m just a kid, Mrs. Borek.” Soon Sam came home, Mrs. Borek wiped her eyes, and life went back to what we understood as normal.

I believe it was the accumulation of episodes, of moments like these, that was instrumental in my choice of vocation. I now understand that my upbringing, from my family to my neighborhood to my friends, is a legacy that has vanished. Now my friends and I have the opportunity to be the messengers of a world that may have evaporated, but whose lessons and memory must be transmitted forward.

Thus, there was a special satisfaction when I met with an alumna, Darya Porat ‘95, last autumn in the Starbucks at 54th and 5th in Manhattan. She handed me a book she had championed at Doubleday publishers, Gertruda’s Oath by Ram Oren.

Darya told me how the book arrived at her desk in Hebrew and how the others in the department didn’t know what to make of the book or what to do with it. Darya stepped forward, dug into translating the story and was immediately taken with it. The book is the story of Michael Stolowitzky, the only son of a wealthy Jewish family in Poland. He was just three years old when war broke out, and the family lost everything. His father, desperate to settle his business affairs, travels to France, leaving Michael in the care of his mother and Gertruda Bablinska, a Catholic nanny devoted to the family. When Michael’s mother has a stroke, Gertruda promises the dying woman she will take Michael to Palestine and raise him as her own son.

Written with the invaluable assistance of Michael, now 72 and living in New York City, Gertruda’s Oath re-creates Michael and Gertruda’s amazing journey. Gripping vignettes bring to life the people who helped ensure their survival: SS officer Karl Rink, who made it his mission to save Jews after his own Jewish wife was murdered; Rink’s daughter, Helga, who escaped to a kibbutz, where she lived until her recent death; and the Jewish physician, Dr. Berman, who aided Michael and Gertruda through the worst of times.

As the Amazon blurb says, Gertruda’s Oath “is a story of extraordinary courage and moral strength in the face of horrific events. Like Schindler’s List, it transcends history and religion to reveal the compassion and hope that miraculously thrives in a world immersed in war without end.”

Amazon claims the author, Ram Oren, “is known as the John Grisham of Israel. Formerly a lawyer and journalist, he founded the Keshet publishing company and has written more than 16 runaway bestsellers.” Gertruda’s Oath is Oren’s first work to be translated into English and sold in the United States. He lives in Israel. Oren and Darya worked closely to help convince the powers-that-be at Doubleday to take the book, a magnificent testimony to faith, courage and re-birth after the Holocaust. (The book is also one of this year’s “summer reads” for our faculty book club.)

Darya was quite modest about this accomplishment. I recall her being modest even in Middle School. But her championing of this book will make a difference for thousands of readers, who will learn something about this tragic period and how Jewish survival was achieved in its wake. It also happens to be personally gratifying, not so much about closing a circle as the satisfaction of having some small part in seeing it widen.

In his notes to the Yizkor service said last week, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes, “Remembrance is fundamental to Judaism. The word zakhor, remember, appears in one of its forms no fewer than 169 times in the Hebrew Bible.

“The past is not lost: we remain connected to it to the extent that we remember it, honor it, and keep faith with it. We are its heirs – our lives are part of a story that began long ago before we were born and will continue long after we are gone.

“It is a custom at Yizkor to remember the Jewish martyrs, including the victims of the Holocaust, for we are the guardians of their memory. The dead cannot be brought back to life, but we can act in such a way as to ensure that they did not die in vain, by showing the faith for which they died still lives.”

Today, we observe Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. May our work continue to ensure that these lives and their values are remembered and honored, for this generation and the next.

Over Passover break, one of the most prominent – and disturbing – news stories was about a series of “bullying” incidents at a Massachusetts high school that led to a suicide, criminal indictments against students at the school, and investigations, accusations and recriminations against school administration, faculty and parents alike. It is a chilling story for anyone who works with or cares for children. The South Hadley High School story is a horror story for all of us. In this column, I will discuss the implications of the incident and our position and program on the issue.

I placed the word bullying in quotation marks above because the term itself has morphed in its usage over the past few years. There has been a traditional image of a bully. Often this was a beefy, coarse young man who wasn’t afraid to openly physically intimidate and threaten others – usually smaller boys – to extort compensation and/or playground loyalty. While there certainly continue to be instances of this traditional bullying, a new term and challenge has come into view in recent years – relational aggression.

Relational aggression, also known as covert aggression or covert bullying, is a type of aggression in which harm is caused through damage to relationships or social status within a group, rather than through physical violence. Relational aggression is more common and more studied among girls than boys. The South Hadley incident, while having certain aspects of overt aggression, was launched as a stealth campaign, one in which the fingerprints of the perpetrators are hard to trace: an angry sidelong glance, posting on a social media website, bumping in the halls.

The fact that the new bullying is harder to detect makes it more difficult to confront and defuse. There is a good deal of literature on the topic, as well as a growing body of evidence and scholarship, and even a recently enacted (and first-in-the-nation) law of the Commonwealth. Here are a few links for more information:

(A site devoted to helping parents and teachers) -  http://www.teachersandfamilies.com/open/parent/ra2.cfm

(Massachusetts law) http://www.lawlib.state.ma.us/subject/about/bullying.html

(and from Ken Rigby, an expert in the field)  – http://www.kenrigby.net/

There are some important points for Schechter parents to know about our school, our children and our responsibilities. No one, no family, no community is immune to this problem. I wonder if the slow-in-the-uptake response in South Hadley (a lovely community) was the result of a “that couldn’t happen here” attitude.

We all love our children, but sometimes even the ones we had always considered “perfect children” do things that surprise and disappoint us. Adults are wise to be alert, to listen for comments and indicators, and to have the courage to ask questions, even if their children are dismissive. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard parents say, “Oh, my children would never do that!” Usually they are correct, but not always. If we recognize that just as kindness is human, so is cruelty, then we’ll recognize our children’s human capacity in this arena.

At Schechter, we are very aggressive about this stuff. Organized, formal programming was developed last year with the participation of every Lower School faculty member and led by Nancy Werner and Paula Rosen. Social adjustment groups in the Upper School are coordinated by Anita Redner and Rachel Katz. Open Circle techniques help children deal with issues in the classroom and out.  This Friday, for example, Barbara Shea will speak to the entire Middle School on the topic at one of our regular town meetings.

The school takes swift, deliberate disciplinary action in such matters – whether incidents take place during the school day or beyond it. Bullying is the opposite of derekh eretz, and we mobilize our program, professional development and disciplinary systems to help children grow in their menschlikeit. We continue to learn effective responses when these goals are not met.

Our school’s mission is the very antithesis of expressions of cruelty between children. The rules of derekh eretz are posted in every classroom. We speak of the love one Jew should feel for another. We talk about the social responsibility each of us has for everyone in the world. We foster community in our classes and in grade-level cohorts. We bring our classes back as alumni groupings. Of course we take pride in our math scores, but it is the decency between children that is the school’s signature goal.

Further, we have the support of a wonderful parent community who cares about these issues. Thus, the input through conversations and thoughtful letters from folks like Jeff Mittleman, Heather Zacker and Mark Rosenzweig, to name a few, are enormously valuable. It is through this partnered work to raise our children to be menschen that we have our greatest reasons for hope.

While we are saddened by the pain and suffering in the South Hadley community, perhaps we can draw a lesson from it: to remain vigilant, to redouble our efforts and to stay connected. We can pray that our efforts will support healthy relationships between our children.

Probably at no point in the school year is the partnership between Jewish homes and Jewish schools as evident as it is  around Passover. In part, that is due to the skill-and-content-building role schools assume. During the past days and weeks, the children (depending on their ages) have been learning how to recite the four questions, the elements of the seder, various Passover songs and how one readies a house for the holiday.

But the preparation for the Passover holiday goes far deeper than that; it is not localized to the sederim that will take place in homes around our community next week. The central idea and mitzvah of the seder is that each person would see himself/herself as personally liberated through his/her connection to God and to a sacred community k’eelu hu. That preparation starts from the moment a child walks through our doors.

I love the way Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of Great Britain, put it in a speech a few months ago to the House of Lords. (I am indebted to a parent, Paul Greenberg, for sending it along.)

“If there is one insight above all others to be gained from Jewish history, it is that freedom depends on education. To defend a country you need an army, but to defend a civilization you need schools. Abraham was chosen, says the Bible, so that he would teach his children to practice righteousness and justice. Moses commanded, in what has become the most famous of our prayers, ‘You shall teach these things diligently to your children.’

“In ancient times the Egyptians built pyramids, the Greeks built temples, the Romans built amphitheatres. Jews built schools. And because of that, alone among ancient civilizations, Judaism survived. I wonder whether even now we value teachers sufficiently highly, for they are the guardians of our liberty. Schools teach us theories and facts. They help us answer the question, what do I know? Schools teach us skills. They help us answer the question, what can I do?

“But they also teach us the story of our nation, what freedom is and how it was fought for, and what battles those who came before us had to fight. They help us to answer the questions: who am I, of what story or stories I am a part, and, how then shall I live? They teach us about keeping faith with the past while honouring our obligations to the future. At best, they teach us collective responsibility for the common good.”

Next Monday night, each of us as adults has an opportunity and, indeed, a responsibility to attend to that sacred task of continuing the sacred chain, passing our story and our tradition down from generation to generation. I like to think that within each of our homes, the fate of the Jewish people rests. And it is through the efforts of places like our school that we help our families meet the challenge and flourish.

Best wishes for a Hag Pesach kasher v’sameach.

Connecting with tradition can be a comfort in challenging times, especially when that tradition inspires and nurtures our better selves. Our school’s annual day of service, Mitzvah Sunday, enables us to find in our tradition a primary source of hope – that we are lifted when we seek to serve others. We tap this treasure for ourselves and our children, as well, because in this way we restore the sacred sparks to this world. As we engage in tikkun olam – repair of the world – we raise ourselves and our sights in the process.

Thus, it is with great pride and satisfaction that I look forward to this year’s program. Mitzvah Sunday reflects many of our most cherished goals for our school and is presented with love and honor for our tradition, families and community. Our texts teach, “The world is built on three things – on Torah, on Prayer, and on Acts of Loving Kindness (Gemilut Hasadim).” As adults, we continue to seek models and hope to become models whose life and legacy teach us and ennoble us. As we do this work, recognize it as mitzvot and guide our children in doing mitzvot, we hope we help shape a world for ourselves and our community, bringing ourselves closer to each other and to the sacred.

May we all continue to grow in our understanding and capacity to help make the world better and to find hope and satisfaction in the service of others. Finally, may we all continue to help our children recognize the importance of the mitzvah of Gemilut Hasadim and how they, too, can help repair the world.

Quite a few times over February vacation I was asked why my baseball cap showcased a sticker saying, “Thank you for supporting Hats for Haiti”. I told folks I proudly kept the sticker on my hat because it gave further evidence of how we live our values at the school.

Hats for Haiti was a student-generated and student-led program aimed at raising money for Haiti relief. By donating a dollar or more, members of the school community – adults and children alike – could wear a hat of their choosing for a single day. Since hats aren’t ordinarily allowed in school, this fund-raising activity created a special atmosphere around the school.

I’m thrilled that our Upper School of around 250 students raised more than $600. But more importantly, students saw themselves as responsible members of a world community. They mobilized their own resources and creativity and found the support of nurturing adults inside the school and in their families. Finally, they understood better that by working together they can achieve something that serves a greater good.

 It is in these modest moments that we demonstrate how we achieve – and live – our mission at the school. I’m proud to have the chance to answer the question about that sticker.

There is a rush to applaud the 11th-hour approval of a sweeping education bill in the Massachusetts legislature, a bill that is hailed by the Governor as “the biggest step forward we’ve made in nearly two decades in public schools.” One need not be a party pooper to ask simple questions about the basic premise at work – and on record – about the goals of education reform in the Commonwealth, long recognized as a leader in education.

From the Commissioner of Education to the chair of the Boston Chamber of Commerce to the Speaker of the Massachusetts House, the message is identical – the goal is to close the gap in academic achievement between the haves and the have nots. This is a lofty social goal, but one that parents with resources and ambitions for their children should consider carefully.

One needn’t be a bureaucrat – and perhaps it helps if you’re not – to understand a simple premise: gaps are usually closed by bringing both sides closer to each other. Seldom are they closed by bringing only one side (in this case, the have nots) closer to the other (the haves). In other words, while the implied promise is that all of the efforts of the state’s leaders will be to bring the education of lower socioeconomic communities to the level of the higher ones, common sense dictates that with limited resources, the goal of closing this gap can be met by redistributing resources to the disadvantaged from those who are already considered to have advantage. As for the current legislation, other than gaining some much-needed federal stimulus funds, parents should be asking just how the already-strained pool of remaining state resources will be distributed to reduce the gap.

Bravo to the current leadership for their clarity and directness. We can see from them that the goal will be achieved by re-directing those limited resources, within the constraints of law and where possible away from the communities with the greater resources (read the Newtons, Westons, Needhams) and toward other communities with less resources.

Pity the parents in those more prestigious communities and the choices they are increasingly confronting. Their much cherished and ballyhooed districts are watching their class sizes increase and their state support deteriorate, while their state mandates and expectations remain as high as ever. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those who have the resources and the commitment to their children’s success take another look at the independent school educational options. Might be a good idea.

Lee Eisenberg, Schechter Class of 1991 and Co-Executive Producer/Writer for NBC’s The Office, spoke to our middle schoolers in November. He shared clips of an upcoming episode of The Office (which he co-wrote) and then answered questions for 40 minutes. What does Lee remember & value most about Schechter? Watch the video and find out!

[This post was originally written and published in Schechter's Shavuon on November 30, 2009.]

Today is the yahrzeit of Solomon Schechter z”l. In our tradition, we celebrate the lives of those who made a lasting impact by remembering the date of their passing rather than their birth. By so doing, we honor the accomplishments of lives well lived as opposed to births, when lives were yet to be shaped.

Solomon Schechter, for whom more than 70 schools, seminaries and institutions worldwide dedicated to Jewish learning are named, was a Romanian and English rabbi, academic scholar and educator. He is most famous for his roles as founder and president of the United Synagogue of America, president of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, and architect of the American Conservative Jewish movement.

Schechter was born in Romania in 1847 to a Chassidic family. His Chassidic upbringing did not satisfy him, and in 1879, he went to study at the Berlin Hochschule fur die Wissenschaft des Judentums and at the University of Berlin. In 1882, Schechter was invited to be a tutor in rabbinics in London. He quickly rose to prominence as a rabbinic scholar and spokesman for Jewish traditionalism. In 1890, he was appointed lecturer in Talmudics and in 1892, reader in rabbinics at Cambridge University. In 1899, he also became professor of Hebrew at University College, London.

He gained international fame as a scholar when he discovered and brought back to London more than 100,000 pages of rare manuscripts from the Cairo Geniza. Beyond sorting and filing the documents, Schechter wrote about the newly found Ben Sirach materials.

In the early 1880s, a number of American Jewish leaders tried to establish a seminary and movement, but they found very little support. The Reformers weren’t interested, nor were the new Russian immigrants. In 1902, Rabbi Schechter was invited to become president of a newly revamped school, the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS). Schechter accepted the invitation and succeeded in attracting an outstanding group of scholars to teach. The JTS became a recognized center of Jewish learning.

In 1913, Schechter was instrumental in founding the United Synagogue of America, the umbrella organization of all Conservative congregations. Though a staunch traditionalist, Schechter admitted there could be change in modern Judaism. However, he felt changes should not be introduced arbitrarily or deliberately. Rather, “the norm as well as the sanction of Judaism is the practice actually in vogue. Its consecration is the consecration of general use—or, in other words, of Catholic Israel.”

In the hallways of both of our schools, candles are lit today beneath a picture of Schechter. Adjoining the picture, Dr. David Starr, parent, teacher and Schechter scholar, wrote, “Schechter’s thought overwhelmingly reveals a man wrestling with the categories implicit in ‘tradition and modernity.’ The history of Schechter’s Seminary, as it came to be known, reveals his willingness to act in such a way as to seize the vital center of Jewish life. The impact on American Jewry was palpable. Through his presence, his writings and through the Seminary and its affiliates, American Jewry now had a center and the beginnings of a high culture at once rooted in traditional texts, as well as versed in modern methods of scholarship.”

It is the commitment to developing, cultivating and strengthening that vital center that this school and the network of Schechter schools across the nation and around the world share. It is because of his vision and leadership that we maintain our mission to build the core of the next generation of the Jewish community and, we believe, its leaders.

As in prior years, today I wore a beard, in the fashion of Schechter, and spoke with classes about the school’s namesake. I hope to help our students see that the school they attend honors a man and his vision – for seriousness of purpose, a commitment to honor tradition, a readiness to engage the world in which we live, and participation as a link in a community that stretches both into the past and forward as far as the mind’s eye can see. May our work, and the work of our students, continue to help Schechter’s memory be a blessing.