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May 05, 2008

The Fifth Annual Ariel Avrech Memorial Lecture 2008

Ariel Chaim Avrech ZT'L

The Fifth Annual Ariel Avrech ZT'L Yahrtzeit Lecture will take place on Sunday June 15, 2008, at 10 AM at the Young Israel of Century City, followed by a brunch.

Young Israel of Century City
9317 West Pico Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90035

We are pleased to announce that we have engaged Rabbi Dr. Gil S. Perl to present this year’s lecture.

Gil Perl is the Dean of the Margolin Hebrew Academy / Feinstone Yeshiva of the South, a Prek-12 day school serving the Jewish community of Memphis. Before arriving in Memphis, Dr. Perl served as an instructor of Modern Jewish History in Yeshiva University and as the Associate Head of School in Yeshiva University's High School for Boys. He earned his Bachelor's Degree from the University of Pennsylvania, his Masters and Doctorate in Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations from Harvard University, and rabbinical ordination from Yeshiva University. As a Teaching Fellow at Harvard, Rabbi Perl was twice awarded Harvard's prestigious Certificate of Distinction in Teaching and in the Spring of 2006 he was named Yeshiva University's Lillian F. and William L. Silber Professor of the Year.

The title of Rabbi Perl’s lecture is: “What Was the Rosh Yeshiva Reading? Intellectual Openness in 19th Century Lithuania.”

We look forward to seeing all our Seraphic Friends and relatives at the lecture.

Learning Torah was Ariel's greatest joy. There is no better way of honoring Ariel's memory than by participating in this lecture series.

May Ariel's neshama have an aliyah.

You do not have to RSVP to attend. The lecture and brunch are courtesy of the Avrech Family and Friends.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:04 AM | Comments (32)

January 27, 2008

Learning From Ariel

Karen writes: The fifth anniversary of Ariel’s (A”H) petirah, is coming upon us. The word “anniversary” seems inappropriate, since it connotes celebration, a kind of renewal. The measure of time is irrelevant for me in any case.

As I’ve written countless times before, the more time passes, the deeper my pain, the more I ache for my son. There is a concept in psychology called “habituation.” It relates to the diminishment over time of the power of a stimulus to evoke a response. There is no habituation occurring in my case.

In fact, the opposite is true. Pictures and mementos have become more evocative, more upsetting, more capable of unleashing the memory of the reality that was Ariel.

An example: Ariel’s pictures are all over our house. One favorite rests on my kitchen counter. I pass it innumerable times each day. In the picture I am embracing him at the end of a visit to Ner Yisroel, his yeshiva in Baltimore.

Recently, this picture triggers a sharp pain each time I see it. I am starting to avert my eyes.

Even the habitual sight of Ariel’s image on Seraphic Secret, an image I have seen hundreds of times with immunity, now sends my stomach into somersaults. When I meet Ariel’s eyes, they are looking right at me, they are more familiar. I wonder, how could I have been so cold?

The searing emptiness is more tangible as time peels off the protective layers of my psyche. I find myself crying more, mouthing the words, “Ariel, speak to me,” “Ariel, I miss you.”

Seraphic Secret was established as a platform for memorializing Ariel, and for that reason was named after the Seraphim (angels, like the angel Ariel) who proclaim the glory of G-d as they surround the Merkavah—the heavenly chariot.

The passage is a play on words from the liturgy of the Musaf Kedusha of Shabbos, “K'sod (secret) Siach Sarfai Kodesh.” In the prayer we are imitating the angels who praise god with a chorus of sanctified secret names.

Our hope was that we could convey the essence of who Ariel was, and that he too, through some secret, hidden manner, could send messages to us that his neshama lives on, whispers that would echo his voice and subtle lights that would illumine his soul to others.

As if to answer my prayers, I was granted a new glimpse of Ariel through the eyes of a friend who just entered our lives. Each time an acquaintance relates his experience of knowing Ariel it is a reaffirmation of his life.

The story confirms that yes, Ariel did exist, yes, my perceptions of him were accurate, yes, he was so special. Hearing another person’s point of view also extends Ariel’s life for me. I can imagine these interactions, and Ariel is alive again, a fresh chapter added to my memories.

Yosef Saltzman, a former student at Ner Yisroel, is engaged to a wonderful young lady in our community. She is a family friend, and a true Baalas Chesed, charitable young woman, who has, thank G-d, met her Bashert. Yosef spontaneously composed an essay recounting his impressions of Ariel, offering his thoughts to us in his sensitivity to our yearning for news of our son.

*******

All of the rabbinic fast days have something to do with the destruction of the Bais Hamikdosh in particular, but in a general sense, they all revolve around the connection to the meaning and purpose of life that is service of Hashem. When we reflect on the loss of the Temple and the special Divine presence, the Shechina, that left us upon its destruction, this realization is meant to propel us forward in our day-to-day efforts to become better people and come closer to Hashem. So on the day of introspection I try to find inspiration. I try to address the questions, “Who are you?” and “Where are you going?” Thoughts like these compel me to take out time to write about Ariel Avrech, zichrono livracha.

Through the grace of G-d, I recently became engaged to Deborah Abraham. She lives, with her family, in the same area the Avrechs live, and both families daven at the Young Israel of Century City. Deborah told me that her family became close to the Avrechs through the families' shared experiences. So since I feel, on some level, that I am already part of the Abraham family, by extension I also feel more deeply connected to the Avrech family. This has also driven me to think more about Ariel.

The third factor that rekindled the glowing image of Ariel within me was meeting Ariel's father at our engagement party. After having spent time in Pico for Shabbosos, I had already learned a lot about the playing field where Ariel grew up as a young boy. But in the few minutes I spoke to Ariel's father, I could already get a better appreciation of where his gentle, sensitive soul came from, as I saw the resemblance between father and son.

The fourth thing to arouse memories of Ariel in my heart was reading about him. I remember reading A Father, a Son, a Tzadik, written by Ariel's father nearly a year after Ariel's passing. I had seen this article posted on the wall in the hallway of Ner Yisroel, and I was so moved that I took it down and made a couple copies for myself before I taped it back on the wall. A few years have passed since reading that first article, and I recently noticed The Book of Ariel, a collection of moving pieces written about Ariel, in the Abraham's living room. Reading the pieces in this memorial book, like the article by Ariel's father, nearly led me to cry. So although I didn't write anything about Ariel when this holy book was put together a few years ago, I figure it's never too late to write about my own appreciation of this precious person.

Ariel left this world more than four years ago, in July 2003. At the time, I was learning in the Mir Yeshiva in Jerusalem. I had left Ner Yisroel a year earlier, in July 2002, so I didn't see Ariel's gradual decline. The last time I saw him was in yeshiva in Baltimore, and he looked and sounded the same way he always did to me.

I didn't really have any contact with Ariel since I saw him in Ner Yisroel. The last time I really felt connected to him was when I went on a special trip to the Kotel, The Western Wall, with a group of eleven other Ner Yisroel students, to daven and say Tehillim, Psalms, on behalf of our dear friend. We were all learning then at different yehsivos in Jerusalem, and we went specially, at an unusual time, because we had been told that Ariel needed our prayers so badly.

Ariel and I were never chavrusas ( study partners) or roommates. We were not in the same shiur, nor were we the same age, and we didn't even play ball together. But I still felt a special bond with Ariel. We both loved learning Torah and loved other people. We both grew up going to Modern Orthodox schools and then convinced our parents to allow us to go to yeshiva. We both learned in Ner Yisroel for four years. Ner Yisroel has boys from many different types of religious, social, and economic backgrounds, and I always liked to meet all the different types of "bochurim" in the yeshiva, so if I didn't get to know them in any other context, I would meet them in the dining room forum.

I always liked talking to Ariel, and the dining room was where we used to talk. I remember he told me how his father was involved in making movies in Hollywood, and I thought this was the coolest thing ever. I had never before met such a serious yeshiva bochur whose father worked in the movie industry. I had never met someone who on the one hand was of the highest caliber in terms of dedication, seriousness, and commitment to Torah learning and growth, but on the other hand was worldly (in a Hollywood sense), and deeply interested in literature, science, and things like cartoons.

I had heard that Ariel had some sort of illness, but I had no idea of its severity. Ariel was a regular, perfectly integrated guy. He learned, davened, and ate with everyone else. He even went to college, and I remember discussing with him the different "career paths" that he was considering. It's to his parents' credit that they treated him like everyone else and encouraged him to be completely integrated with the yeshiva's program.

Ariel was adele, (Yiddish: refined) and sensitive, but he was also assertive and had his opinions about things. He may have been slow in expressing himself, but he was quick in his thinking. Although he sometimes came across as being "slow" in his speech and general demeanor, he was truly a very smart boy. He wasn't the type who had an interest in being "cool;" he was just too mature for that. Ariel was happy with himself and with the lot that Hashem had given him.

Ariel grew up in a city in which many people are steeped in the pursuit of fame, fortune, and fantasy, probably more so than any American city, yet Ariel only wanted to be a true Torah scholar. Always serious and focused on the Torah that he loved learning, although he knew he was suffering, it didn't seem to deter him.

In his hesped, Ariel's father quoted his son as saying, “The years of illness have taught me the value of time—how precious it is. How foolish to waste even a moment.” These words have been ringing in my ears ever since I read the hesped. Ariel taught us this on a daily basis. He taught us, by example, that life has deep meaning, G-d is real, Torah is real and deserves our full effort, and every minute can be used in some way to proclaim the glory of G-d.

In her hesped, Ariel's mother made mentions of “complexities” in Ariel's personality. In a similar vein, in his hesped, Ariel's father contrasts Ariel's Torah interest with his secular interests. I think Ariel believed everything in the world is part of G-d's oneness. Hashem is One, and there are a million things in life that could distract us from our recognition of His Oneness. Ariel's emuna was such that he saw everything in the world could, and should, be used to uncover the presence of Hashem that is concealed in our world.

On the rabbinic fast days, we think about uncovering and revealing the hidden presence of Hashem. We stop to think how we can make Him a more essential part of our lives and how we can connect to the deeper meaning of life. We try to look beyond the superficialities that the society surrounding us teaches us to value.

Ariel was a person who had strong emuna in Hashem, who walked with Hashem, and yearned for His closeness. Ariel saw beyond the transient pleasures of this world. Through his serious pursuit of Torah knowledge and his diligent observance of mitzvos, he was connected to the eternal world.

There are different ways someone can teach you something. Normally, we think of a teacher as one who speaks to us and communicates verbally. Sometimes a person can teach by way of example, assuming the observer has a real interest to learn. But perhaps the deepest, most sublime way of teaching is when the memory of the person teaches. Our Rabbis say that Yosef saw the image of his father's face, and this kept him from sinning. I still have the image of Ariel etched in my mind.

When I think of Ariel and his passion for Torah life, a chord is struck in my heart. Every time I ponder the way Ariel lived his life, I am inspired to reach higher. I am inspired to focus on what's real and what's most important in life. When I stop to remember who Ariel was and the kind of life he lived, I hear his voice gently telling all of us to use every second of our short lives in a way that will enable us to live life to the fullest.

— Yosef Saltzman

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 07:00 PM | Comments (16)

November 03, 2007

The Impossible Dream

Karen writes:

It's a three minute drive from the gym to my house. I usually hear a sound byte of Larry Elder or Hugh Hewitt at the end of the day. On this day, the rich baritone of Robert Goulet fills the car. Despite myself, I feel goose bumps hearing the song, "To Dream the Impossible Dream" from the musical, The Man of La Mancha. It brings back memories of the innocence of my teen years. The song captivated and enchanted all my friends. I wonder, why is Hugh Hewitt playing this song?

Although I pull up to the house, I linger in the car. I wait until the end of the song. Somehow, I feel it's irreverent to switch off the radio when I suspect this is a memorial. Also, despite its sappiness, I'm enjoying the music. Hugh comes on after the last note. His words shock me, pierce my heart. He says, "Robert Goulet died today in a Los Angeles hospital. He was waiting for a lung transplant due to pulmonary fibrosis."

This was Ariel's fate. First come the tears. Then many irrational thoughts flood my mind. The irony of the song, the impossible dream ultimately was for a lung that never came. The fact that celebrity does not get you anywhere in the competition for organs.

I come into the house and rush to tell Robert the coincidence. I could have missed the tag line, but something made me stay in the car and finish the song, to hear that coda. Robert tells me that the same thing happened to him. When he heard the news he also cried.

Ariel ZT'L was a believer even when things looked impossible. He trusted that G-d would provide a lung for him. He never doubted. His determination to overcome barriers was displayed when he left home for Baltimore's Ner Yisroel Rabbinical Academy even when he still was anemic and needed close monitoring.

He never considered himself "sickly," never wanted to receive special treatment. Our son was the bravest person I ever knew. He did not charge windmills. His quests were real and worthwhile; his visions considered and mature. Ariel wanted to make the possible real.

May his memory be a blessing.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:31 PM | Comments (13)

September 21, 2007

The Shofar Weeps

Karen and I are in the car, driving to the cemetery to visit Ariel's grave. There we will recite Tehillim, Psalms, pray, and contemplate this annihilating abyss in our lives.

Karen puts Rabbi Shlomo Riskin's Shabbat Shuva Drasha CD into the deck.

The title of Rabbi Riskin's lecture is: The Message of the Shofar as it Weeps on Rosh Hashanah Shouts Exceedingly on Yom Kippur, Confounds Satan and Vanquishes Iran

Rabbi Riskin was my counselor in Camp Massad when I was 7 years-old. He inspired me as a child and he inspires me still as an adult. The lecture is filled with riveting and luminous Torah insights.

Rabbi Riskin points out that one of the sounds of the shofar, the Teruah, is a broken sound signaling that G-d has created an imperfect world, a world that is a veil of tears. As we pull into the gates of the cemetery Rabbi Riskin says: “...a world where even some people die too young.”

Karen shivers and says: “No one will believe this.”

I can only shake my head. There are worlds within worlds.

We park. We walk to Ariel's grave. Karen gets down on her hands and knees and polishes our son's headstone. Lemon sunlight bounces off the black granite and blinds me for a moment. Seeing only dazzling white light, I try and and try and try to convince myself that our son is not under this earth.

But he is.

His physical body.

In the lecture Rabbi Riskin reminds us that prayer should be more than asking for a good year, for a good living, for good health; authentic prayer is not a tit-for-tat affair. He considers this small-minded. As the great Hasidic master Reb Nachman of Breslov taught we are really asking for spirituality, to be close to G-d, to make us resilient and strong. We're asking that redemption should soon arrive. And we're celebrating His Kingship. We are also joining with G-d in a partnership to complete and refine this imperfect world.

Karen and I wish all our friends a G'mar Chatima Tova, a lovely Shabbat, a meaningful Yom Kippur and fast.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 12:36 PM | Comments (10)

September 11, 2007

9-11 Zachor, Remember

“Do you know what's happening in New York?”
“No, what?”
“Better turn on the TV, ” says Ariel ZT'L.

I click on the remote. It takes us a few seconds to get oriented. Soon, the pixels cohere into a dreamlike, violent vertical image. Ariel sits on the couch with us. In the master bedroom, we watch as the one of the Twin Towers belches smoke.

Is this an accident?

How is this possible?

I'm supposed to be working on a screenplay. As always I'm on deadline, but movies, entertainment, Hollywood magic seem, well, obscene as I watch my fellow Americans being incinerated, turned to blood and bone, blasted into ash and nothingness.

It's difficult making sense of the reports coming in. My gut tells me that this can't be an accident. No commercial jet would ever fly at such a low altitude, especially over densely populated Manhattan.

My stomach clenches.

When I lived in Israel my stomach did the same thing when I spotted an unattended suitcase in the central bus station in Jerusalem.

The second plane slices into the second tower.

“There are people trapped in the upper floors,” I say to myself as much as to Karen and Ariel.

A canopy of billowing black and gray smoke is spreading over the island of Manhattan. Never has this mighty strip of land appeared so vulnerable.

Thick tears cut silvery channels down my face.

“How many people work in the Twin Towers?” Ariel asks.
“At this time of day, could be fifty thousand people,” I answer.

Ariel reaches to my night table for a siddur, the prayer book, recites Tehillim, Psalms.

1. Avenge me, O God, and champion my cause against an impious nation; rescue me from the man of deceit and iniquity. 2. For You are the God of my strength; why have You abandoned me? Why must I walk in gloom under the oppression of the enemy? 3. Send Your light and Your truth, they will guide me; they will bring me to Your holy mountain and to your sanctuaries. 4. Then I will come to the altar of God to God, the joy of my delight and praise You on the lyre, O God, my God. 5. Why are you downcast, my soul, and why do you wail within me? Hope to God, for I will yet thank Him; He is my deliverance, the light of my countenance, and my God.

—Psalm 43

Soon it becomes clear that this is a terrorist attack. Soon it becomes clear that America has been targeted by terrorists. Soon it becomes clear that thousands of Americans have been murdered.

The Towers buckle, collapse. It feels like the end of the world. A voice inside my head whispers: Nothing will ever be the same. This country will never be the same.

The talking head on television says: “This is a great tragedy.”

Ariel sits up and says: “It's not a tragedy, it's an atrocity.” Ariel's voice is braced by steel, unusual for our son who is such a mild and gentle soul.

I should have realized that a society that does not know the difference between a tragedy and an atrocity will be a culture that has little idea how to recognize and make war on evil.

Six years ago our beloved son Ariel was still alive. We think about him every day, every hour. To forget him would be unnatural, unbearable, a tragedy.

Six years ago over three thousand Americans were slaughtered by Islamic terrorists. We should think about them every day, every hour. To forget them would also be unnatural, a sin—another atrocity.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:53 AM | Comments (39)

June 25, 2007

Ariel Avrech ZT'L Yahrtzeit Lecture Summary '07

Here are Karen's opening remarks, delivered on June 17, 2007, at the Young Israel of Century City.

Last year I spoke of the bittersweet joy of hearing new anecdotes about Ariel. A recounting of the briefest of interactions, gaining the perspective of someone Ariel knew but was unknown to me, seeing a photo I had never seen before, are all heaven sent gifts.

For a few seconds I can stop pressing rewind. I can defy memory.

It is important for our family that as we gather to memorialize Ariel, we describe his character in detail. In The Book of Ariel many have spoken of his piety, his courage in the face of illness, his determination, and his kindness. Recently I heard a story from his friend that shed some light on an area of his life that was new to me.

I always knew that Ariel did not have the concept of being “cool.” He had many friends and was well liked, but he seemed to have been born with a sense of self, of knowing who he was without a need to be like anyone else. He was his own person. What I didn’t know was how he could influence others.

In the doldrums of summer the yeshiva boys were restless after a long hot Shabbos. They were letting their tzizzit down so to speak, the closest to a yeshiva bocher, Saturday night " break out party". A few games of poker, using chips instead of money, sending out for pizza. Really wild. .

After the game some of the boys lit up cigarettes. Without the slightest hint of condemnation, but with real sincerity, Ariel asked his friend, “ I don’t understand why you guys do that.” From that day on, Ariel’s friend told us, he never picked up another cigarette.

Ariel was not cowed by peer pressure. He did not condemn his friends, or fall into their disfavor by being a “goody goody.” Instead of submitting to peer pressure — he became a Peer Treasure. He gained their respect, and became a positive role model. They looked up to him and marveled at his patience and perseverance. He never said a bad word about any of his peers, never told us of any one giving him a bad time, although that must have happened at some point.

When Ariel got sick he knew how to deal with evil. He confronted it head on, with equanimity, courage, and when he didn’t understand it, he asked the right questions.

Today we are honoring his memory with a lecture that addresses the perennial struggle of reconciling a merciful god with the reality of evil in this world.

Dr. David Shatz, our featured speaker, is Professor of Philosophy at Yeshiva University and Adjunct Professor of Religion at Columbia University. He received semikhah, rabbinical ordination, from the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary and his Ph.D. with distinction from Columbia University.

The following is Karen's summary of Dr. Shatz's lecture. In the interests of fairness and accuracy, we asked Dr. Shatz to check and correct the summary before publication—which Dr. Shatz kindly agreed to do. Dr. Shatz found no major or minor errors and has endorsed Karen's summary for publication. Once again, the Avrech family would like to express our deep appreciation to Rabbi, Dr. David Shatz for a thought-provoking lecture that was truly a fitting way to memorialize our beloved son, Ariel Chaim, may his name forever be a blessing.

Dr. Shatz chose to speak about Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s approach to how a religious Jew should understand suffering in this world. The readings he presented were predominantly from Rabbi Soloveitchik’s work, Out of the Whirlwind.

In the course of his lecture, Dr. Shatz mentioned that some talmudic sources reject the idea that all suffering is punishment for sin. Besides citing such passages, he referenced the prototypical biblical case of the suffering man, Job. The latter was advised by his friends that he must have sinned, for there could be no other explanation for his suffering. Dr. Shatz pointed out that the conclusion of the book of Job contradicts the friends’ position, as G-d chastises those who blamed Job for his fate.

Indeed, Talmudic and Midrashic sources present other ways to resolve the eternal question of why good people suffer in this world. Rabbi Shatz reviewed some of these schemas, for example the idea that some righteous people suffer more in this world in order to increase their reward in the next, and the idea that the suffering of the righteous atones for sin.

Rabbi Soloveitchik discusses the concept of evil from two perspectives.

The first is the perspective of what he calls "Thematic Halakhah." Thematic Halakhah refers to the philosophical and metaphysical motifs of Judaism. (Dr. Shatz suggested it is in effect Aggadah, the theological dimension of Judaism.) When evil is viewed from this perspective, it is held to be justified and explicable by reference to a larger picture. The subjective experience of evil disappears and there is no contradiction in the statement that a perfectly good G-d created all things, including evil. From the perspective of Thematic Halakhah, the concept of evil is in the realm of metaphysical ideas that we might understand in the idealized future. Evil makes sense even if we cannot understand why it exists.

The second approach to evil is not metaphysical, but ethical. It is the approach of “Topical Halakhah”—that is, Halakhah conceived as a set of directives that human decisionmakers must follow. For the Topical Halakhah, the question is not “why does evil happen?” but rather “How do we handle evil, how do we confront it?” Here the Halakhah is very clear. We fight evil and bring all the resources and creative energies of man to banish it. Rabbi Soloveitchik calls this approach an “ethic of suffering” as opposed to a “metaphysic of suffering”.

Dr. Shatz suggested that in contrast to many issues where Rabbi Soloveitchik maintained that two opposing approaches remain in an unresolvable dialectic, here the Rav appears to favor Topical Halakhah. He believes that having a “thematic” explanation detracts from the urgency of the fight against evil, and therefore he stresses the demands of Topical Halakhah.

Professor Shatz cited the tangible passion of the Rav’s words. Here is one quote from Out of the Whirlwind:

Halakhah always preached active opposition to evil. That is why the Halakhah could not understand — and not only Halakhah but we Jews cannot understand — a philosophy of passive resistance to evil.

Certainly this topic addressed serious issues that might weigh heavily for those not enrolled in a university philosophy class. The wonder was that Professor Shatz infused his delivery with humor and enlivened what would seem to be abstract concepts with a freshness and accessibility that was inclusive but not patronizing. He simultaneously stimulated and challenged the intellectuals and rabbis in the audience as well.

Professor Shatz is truly a master conductor. Every tone was correct and well balanced, the lecture’s themes were interwoven seamlessly, and brought to a resounding conclusion. The lecture was an appropriate tribute to Ariel A’H who certainly undertook the battle against evil, but also maintained his faith, Emunah, that there would ultimately be a metaphysical revelation.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:55 AM | Comments (7)

June 18, 2007

Scenes from the Weekend: One

The lecture is over.

Everyone is enjoying the brunch.

In the community room, I'm weak from hunger; haven't had a chance to eat for hours and hours because I've been so keyed up about the lecture, the whole weekend.

Now, I'm sitting at a table and shoveling a cheese blintze into my mouth. A shadow, like a sword, falls over me. I look up, it's my Persian buddy.

He extends his hand.

“I am sorry,” he says, “I could not make it to the lecture but I wanted to come and make a b'racha on Ariel's holy neshama.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

My Persian buddy looks absolutely frazzled.

“Is everything okay?”

He frowns.

“I come from the hospital. My son, his lung collapsed. That is why I could not come to Ariel's lecture.”

I jump to my feet.

”Oh my gosh, is your son okay?”

“Baruch HaShem, he is doing fine. I will make a b'racha for Ariel's holy neshama and go back to Cedars-Sinai.”

My Persian buddy turns around, walks off, disappears.

For a long moment I sit and catch my breath.

Finally, I rise, and on a hunch, head into the main sanctuary of the shul. It is cool and the shadows are deep. When I was a child I was told that shaydim, ghosts, haunt empty shuls. I have always been absolutely terrified of vacant sanctuaries. And even now I hesitate to step into my shul.

But it is not deserted.

There stands my Persian buddy, at the ark, shuckling, swaying back and forth, davening, praying, eyes tightly clenched; he says Ariel's name, then kisses the parochet, the curtain that covers the ark that contain the Torah scrolls.

I choke back a sob because I don't want my friend to know that I'm spying on him. This dialogue with HaShem that I have witnessed deserves the dignity of solitude.

*******

b'racha = blessing
neshama = soul
Baruch HaShem = Thank G-d

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 01:15 PM | Comments (18)

June 15, 2007

Ariel Avrech Memorial Lecture 2007

This weekend:

The Fourth Annual Ariel Avrech ZT'L Yahrtzeit Lecture will take place, AY”H, on Sunday June 17, 2007, at 10 AM at the Young Israel of Century City, to be followed by a brunch.

Young Israel of Century City
9317 West Pico Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90035
(310) 273 - 6954

We are pleased to announce that we have engaged Professor David Shatz to present this year’s lecture.

David Shatz is Professor of Philosophy at Yeshiva University, Adjunct Professor of Religion at Columbia University, editor of the Torah u-Madda Journal and series editor of MeOtzar HoRav; Selected Essays of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. He has published eleven books and over fifty articles and reviews dealing with both general and Jewish philosophy.

Dr. Shatz received semicha, rabbinic ordination, from Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary and his Ph.D with distinction from Columbia University. He is a member of the Orthodox Forum Steering Committee, a board member of the Orthodox Caucus, a member of the Editorial Board of Tradition, and a Fellow of the Academy for Jewish Philosophy.

The title of Dr. Shatz’s lecture is: Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik on the Problem of Evil.

We look forward to seeing all our Seraphic Friends and relatives at the lecture. Learning Torah was Ariel's greatest joy. There is no better way of honoring Ariel's memory than by participating in this lecture series. We thank you all in advance.

May Ariel's neshama have an aliyah.

You do not have to RSVP to attend. The lecture and brunch are courtesy of the Avrech Family and Friends.

Karen and I would like to welcome all our relatives and friends who are in Los Angeles to attend the lecture. There is no better way of honoring Ariel's blessed memory.

Karen and I wish you all a lovely and meaningful Shabbat.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 02:20 PM | Comments (18)

June 08, 2007

Ariel Avrech ZT'L Memorial Lecture 2007

The Fourth Annual Ariel Avrech ZT'L Yahrtzeit Lecture will take place, AY”H, on Sunday June 17, 2007, at 10 AM at the Young Israel of Century City, to be followed by a brunch.

Young Israel of Century City
9317 West Pico Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90035
(310) 273 - 6954

We are pleased to announce that we have engaged Professor David Shatz to present this year’s lecture.

David Shatz is Professor of Philosophy at Yeshiva University, Adjunct Professor of Religion at Columbia University, editor of the Torah u-Madda Journal and series editor of MeOtzar HoRav; Selected Essays of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. He has published eleven books and over fifty articles and reviews dealing with both general and Jewish philosophy.

Dr. Shatz received semicha, rabbinic ordination, from Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary and his Ph.D with distinction from Columbia University. He is a member of the Orthodox Forum Steering Committee, a board member of the Orthodox Caucus, a member of the Editorial Board of Tradition, and a Fellow of the Academy for Jewish Philosophy.

The title of Dr. Shatz’s lecture is: Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik on the Problem of Evil.

We look forward to seeing all our Seraphic Friends and relatives at the lecture. Learning Torah was Ariel's greatest joy. There is no better way of honoring Ariel's memory than by participating in this lecture series. We thank you all in advance.

May Ariel's neshama have an aliyah.

RSVP in the comments section of Seraphic Secret.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 11:09 AM | Comments (10)

May 22, 2007

What is the Seraphic Secret?

Karen writes: I want to thank all those who acknowledged the strength that our blog has given them, and those who appreciate that we have transmitted Ariel's A"H spirit through this medium, however diminished, and infinitesimal in comparison to knowing him in life.

We called this blog Seraphic Secret for several reasons, but mainly because we felt that Ariel was angelic even in life, and once he departed this earth, we hoped he would still inform us, inspire us, love us, if not overtly, physically, audibly, then secretly, through a discreet, spiritual form. We are always listening. I hope the communication goes both ways.

I love you Ariel. Chag Sameach. Learn well tonight.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 07:14 PM | Comments (10)

May 21, 2007

Secret Anniversary

Today is Seraphic Secret's third anniversary. This was our first post:

Thinking of Ariel...

Several months ago, my beloved son Ariel Chaim passed away. I am forever changed. I will write about him, about loss and memory for as long as I can.

Seraphic Secret has changed our lives. We have made scores of precious new friends, numerous acquaintances, and through your kindness and generosity we have been able to share our memories, grief, and joy. You who read and touch our lives have given us a measure of comfort we never imagined, and for this Karen and I owe you all a great debt of gratitude.

A special thanks to our good friend and blogmother Jackie Danicki who first suggested this blog and put us on-line. Without Jackie, we would not be here.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 03:45 PM | Comments (26)

April 30, 2007

Karen Does Not Gamble

“Remember that Chinese Auction I told you about?”
“Um, vaguely.”
“I bid on a vacuum cleaner.”
“Right, I wanted to bid on the Sony Camcorder.”
“Yeah, but I knew that we'd win if we bid on the vacuum cleaner.”

Karen is standing in the doorway of my office. A few weeks ago we received a mailing from Ariel's ZT'L post-high school, Yeshiva Ner Yisroel Rabbinic Academy, for their annual Chinese Auction. Always anxious to support this fine institution where Ariel spent three happy years, Karen leafed through the catalogue and laser-like zeroed in on a Miele vacuum cleaner. The color of a jelly bean, it has the look of some cool, Star Trek beam-me-up-prop. Hard to believe it's purpose is to, um, suck up schmutz.

“I like the Sony Camcorder,” I said. Hint. Hint. Hint.
“I'll win the vacuum cleaner,” said Karen with Vegas surety.

Now Karen steps into my office and says:
“We won.”
“Huh?”
“The vacuum cleaner. I told you we'd win—and we won. Ner Yisroel just called.”
“Oh man, we could have won the camcorder.”
“No, it had to be the vacuum cleaner. Because that's what I knew we'd win. It's like the best vacuum cleaner in the world.”
“What about in the universe?”

I look at Karen's face. She's got that little frown at the edges of her eyes. I know that look. I know it well.

“There's a but, I can feel it coming.”
“But, it's Ariel's yeshiva, right?”
“Right.”
“So I told them to see if they can return the vacuum cleaner—it costs $700.00—that way the Yeshiva can keep the money.”
“Naturally.”
“Was I wrong?”
“Of course not.”

Ten minutes later Ner Yisroel calls and informs us that they cannot return the vacuum cleaner; we have to take it.

Karen and I decide to send them another donation.

Karen says: “Ariel made sure that I'd win. I knew it right from the start.”

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 11:09 AM | Comments (10)

Ariel Avrech ZT'L Memorial Lecture 2007

The Fourth Annual Ariel Avrech ZT'L Yahrtzeit Lecture will take place, AY”H, on Sunday June 17, 2007, at 10 AM at the Young Israel of Century City, to be followed by a brunch.

Young Israel of Century City
9317 West Pico Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90035
(310) 273 - 6954

We are pleased to announce that we have engaged Professor David Shatz to present this year’s lecture.

David Shatz is Professor of Philosophy at Yeshiva University, Adjunct Professor of Religion at Columbia University, editor of the Torah u-Madda Journal and series editor of MeOtzar HoRav; Selected Essays of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. He has published eleven books and over fifty articles and reviews dealing with both general and Jewish philosophy.

Dr. Shatz received semicha, rabbinic ordination, from Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary and his Ph.D with distinction from Columbia University. He is a member of the Orthodox Forum Steering Committee, a board member of the Orthodox Caucus, a member of the Editorial Board of Tradition, and a Fellow of the Academy for Jewish Philosophy.

The title of Dr. Shatz’s lecture is: Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik on the Problem of Evil.

We look forward to seeing all our Seraphic Friends and relatives at the lecture. Learning Torah was Ariel's greatest joy. There is no better way of honoring Ariel's memory than by participating in this lecture series. We thank you all in advance.

May Ariel's neshama have an aliyah.

RSVP in the comments section of Seraphic Secret.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:20 AM | Comments (0)

April 18, 2007

Ariel Avrech ZT'L Memorial Lecture 2007

The Fourth Annual Ariel Avrech ZT'L Yahrtzeit Lecture will take place, AY”H, on Sunday June 17, 2007, at 10 AM at the Young Israel of Century City, to be followed by a brunch.

Young Israel of Century City
9317 West Pico Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90035
(310) 273 - 6954

We are pleased to announce that we have engaged Professor David Shatz to present this year’s lecture.

David Shatz is Professor of Philosophy at Yeshiva University, Adjunct Professor of Religion at Columbia University, editor of the Torah u-Madda Journal and series editor of MeOtzar HoRav; Selected Essays of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. He has published eleven books and over fifty articles and reviews dealing with both general and Jewish philosophy.

Dr. Shatz received semicha, rabbinic ordination, from Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary and his Ph.D with distinction from Columbia University. He is a member of the Orthodox Forum Steering Committee, a board member of the Orthodox Caucus, a member of the Editorial Board of Tradition, and a Fellow of the Academy for Jewish Philosophy.

The title of Dr. Shatz’s lecture is: Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik on the Problem of Evil.

We look forward to seeing all our Seraphic Friends and relatives at the lecture. Learning Torah was Ariel's greatest joy. There is no better way of honoring Ariel's memory than by participating in this lecture series. We thank you all in advance.

May Ariel's neshama have an aliyah.

RSVP in the comments section of Seraphic Secret.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 12:07 PM | Comments (29)

April 17, 2007

The Terrible Truth

For a parent, the most unnatural feeling is outliving your child. One is doomed to a spectral existence.

Now we are witness to an atrocity that thrusts far too many into this cruel state, and leaves so many parents asking the ultimate questions: why this, why my child, how did G-d allow this to happen?

It is impossible for us to view this atrocity dispassionately. Our son, our beloved Ariel Z'TL is forever a memory.

Debates about gun control are, we must admit, simply beyond the point.

We apologize for indulging in side issues.

Karen and I were and are good parents. We shower all our children with love and affection. We raise our children with strong Jewish values. We teach them right from wrong, good from evil, to fear and love G-d.

Yet there are no guarantees.

Ariel Z'TL was struck with cancer. He fought with incredible courage and refused to surrender to self-pity or lazy anger. Karen and I explored every medical avenue; we became expert in chemotherapy, radiation, and diet. Yet in the end we were defeated. Ariel's courage, and his will to live sustained him through many crises, but we ran out of miracles; G-d had a different plan.

We did the best we could, but sometimes we have to face our helplessness. Despite our research, our loving care and devotion, supervising the endless minutae of his medical care, ultimately, we were not in control.

We take comfort in knowing that courage counts, that our son's goodness lives on even after he is physically gone.

There is a very human impulse to fix, well, everything.

An evil man plans mass murder, and people rush forward with instant recipes to fix the problem: less guns, more guns, stricter campus security, and of course, the ultimate panacea: self-esteem classes.

Here's the terrible truth: bad things happen; evil crouches at the door. We cannot make a perfect world. Those who forge utopian societies end up mass murderers: witness communist Russia and the other socialist tyrannies who have engineered genocide on their own citizens.

We are meant to be imperfect.

We are terribly frail men and women.

We live , we rejoice, we suffer — and we endure.

Faced with the death of a child, of all children, we must admit: there are no easy answers.

These verses from Ariel's annotated copy of the Book of Isaiah, Chapter 45:

7. I form light and create darkness,
I make peace and create evil,
I am G-d, I do all these things.

9. Woe to the man who strives with his maker,
Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth.
Shall the clay say to him that fashions it,
“What are you making?”
Or shall it say
“Your work has no place?”

10. Woe to the man who says to his father,
“Why have you conceived me?”
or to his mother
“Why did you bear me?”

15. Surely, You are a G-d who hides,
the G-d of Israel,
the One who saves.

May G-d comfort the families of those who were slain at Virginia Tech.

May G-d blot out the name and memory of the evil killer.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 03:02 PM | Comments (14)

March 18, 2007

All These Things

This Shabbat, Shabbat HaChodesh, with the double Parsha of Vayakhel/Pekudei, was the Bar Mitzvah parsha of our son Ariel Chaim ZT'L. It is exactly thirteen years since his Bar Mitzvah.

Every day, every hour, our son's cruel absence gnaws away at me. I avoid philosophical discussions of why bad things happen to good people, or why G-d allows such things to happen.

This is a world of good and evil, joy and tragedy.

There are no easy answers.

When a child dies, there are no answers at all.

I have no patience for the clever explanations—invariably shot-through with flawed theological and halachic holes—that Rebbeim and amateur theologians offer. At best they come off as well-intentioned. Often, I'm sorry to say, they are aggressively self-righteous and pitifully clueless.

After coming home from shul, I stepped into Ariel's room and just took one breath after another. I looked at his books. In the last year of his life, Ariel studied Sefer Yeshayahu, Isaiah, by himself. Our very best yeshivas emphasize advance Talmud study, and the Nevi'im, the Prophets, are tragically neglected. But Ariel loved the sublime poetry of our Prophets, felt the power of their warnings for the children of Israel to return to Torah. And so Ariel learned Isaiah with the same dedication and scholarly diligence that he brought to the study of Talmud.

I pulled down Ariel's copy of sefer Yeshayahu, opened it at random, and found myself reading from Chapter 45. Here are the verses that jumped out at me as I sat on the edge of Ariel's childhood bed.

7. I form light and create darkness,
I make peace and create evil,
I am G-d, I do all these things.

9. Woe to the man who strives with his maker,
Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth.
Shall the clay say to him that fashions it,
“What are you making?”
Or shall it say
“Your work has no place?”

10. Woe to the man who says to his father,
“Why have you conceived me?”
or to his mother
“Why did you bear me?”

15. Surely, You are a G-d who hides,
the G-d of Israel,
the One who saves.

And so: with the image, the memory—almost an hallucination now—of Ariel in his room, blithely ignoring his illness, patiently learning Sefer Yeshayahu, and deeply imbibing verses like these—

—I endure.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 12:10 AM | Comments (35)

February 23, 2007

Setting the Shabbos Table

“Dad, you know it's a real mitzvah to set the Shabbos table.”
“Really?”
Ariel ZT'L nodded his head

Ariel had a way of making little suggestions that spurred me to make small changes in my routine that inevitably made huge changes in my life.

“By setting the Shabbos table you help usher in the holiness of Shabbos, you bring kedusha to Am Yisroel — and you help Mommy out.” Ariel's eyes twinkled.

Ariel was just 14-years old when he said this to me. That's when I took on the seemingly minor obligation of setting the Shabbos table.

Friday Morning, Casa Avrech, Los Angeles, California, Planet Earth.

5:00 AM: My eyes pop open. There is absolutely no chance of going back to sleep. There is vital work to be done and yours truly is the man to accomplish said work.

5:10 Dressed, I step outside and plant the flag of my country on the front lawn of Casa Avrech. Sheesh, it's still the only flag on the block. After so many years you'd think someone would be shamed into hoisting a flag too. But no. Ours is the only flag on the block.

5:11 I have to crawl under my SUV to get the NY Times. I vow to murder the delivery kid. Every single morning he deliberately flings the paper under the car. I know, I'll rat him out to immigration.

5:14 My blood pressure rises to dangerous heights as I skim the front page of the NY Times. These people should be arrested for sedition, treason, sheer stupidity. Heck, I should be arrested for paying for a subscription to this rag. But Karen just has to do the puzzle, and I have to know what the enemy is saying.

5:17 Glance at the Op-Ed pge. Migraine creeps up. Close the Op-Ed page. Migraine retreats. That was easy.

5:19 Time for coffee. Karen makes this incredible cold brew toddy for me.

5:20 Ahh... ddiction.

5:33 I've got a system worked out, and it goes like this: Clear dining room table of loose change, keys, baseball cap, scattered mail. Take damp washcloth and scrub table clean, then take dry towel and wipe dry. Unfurl Shabbos tablecloth, and SNAP! lay it on dining room table — in one smooth movement. It has to be in one smooth movement or —

— or nothing. Or I shrug my shoulders and feel like a monumental failure. Such are the goals I set for myself when I set the Shabbos table.

Go figure.

5:35 Now for the complicated part. I have to decide how to fold the napkins. Oh boy. Do you know how many variations there are for napkin folding? Too many. You know what I do? I fold a nice simple rectangle. Every single Shabbos. Maybe once in a blue moon I'll haul out the napkin rings and shove the linens through and try and make some kind of decent-looking arrangement, but oh gosh, it ends up looking so hopelessly heterosexual, so pathetic, that I wonder why I even bothered.

5:37 Silverware. I love this part. Start with the two forks. Put them on the left, on the napkin, the big fork on the left and then the small fork. Then on the other side of the plate, the knife, the soup spoon and the dessert spoon. This is the fun part because I just whip around the dining room table like an orbiting astronout, distributing the silverware automatically. Really, I can do this in my sleep.

5:40 We bought two dozen heavy glasses just for Shabbos. They fit perfectly in my hand. They're just the right size and weight. When one breaks, we order a replacement immediately. Yup, we're that obsessive.

5:44 Place the challe tray at the head of the table. I use a pretty unconventional challe knife. I figure if it's good enough for combat, it's good enough for cutting challe. When we have guests for Shabbos and they glimpse this knife they don't know whether to flee, hide or laugh. But it does the job. Cuts through challe like butter.

5:45 Last things: Place salt near the head of the table. At the center of the table I arrange two little flags side-by-side: the stars and stripes, and the Israeli flag. I choose the Kiddush cup I'm going to use. Usually I favor my grandfather's cup. Rav Shmuel Avrech ZT'L was a student of the Brisker Rav, an amazingly self-sufficient and intensely private man, my grandfather adored Karen and it was through Karen that I was finally able to know my grandfather in the last years of his life.

5:50 The Shabbos table is set. I stand for a long moment and remember Ariel. It was he who set me on the path to do this small mitzvah. The house is quiet. Birds outside have just begun to wake and chirp. Shards of sunlight break through the windows. Ariel is gone, but I keep him alive through these small mitzvahs, these small gestures.

6:00 I daven. Between each and every bracha I sense my son's presence.

7:00 I step into my office, sit down and write a Shabbos note to Karen. I have been writing these notes to Karen for over 15 years. They are short little missives in which I tell her that: 1. I appreciate all the hard work she's done during the week, 2. Let her know some of the things I've been up to in Hollywood, 3. Bring up various issues with the girlses, 4. Tell her that I love her now and forever, 5. Wish her a good Shabbos.

7:10 I sit back and look forward to Shabbos when Karen's Shabbos note will be sitting by my plate waiting for me when I get back from shul. I look forward to this note the entire week.

*******

Jason Maoz, the extremely able Senior Editor of the Jewish Press, asked Karen to expand on her The Solace of Lost Siddurim article. Rising brilliantly to the challenge, Karen rewrote her piece and you can find it at this week's Jewish Press.

Karen and I wish all our Seraphic friends a lovely and meaningful Shabbat.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 07:55 AM | Comments (47)

February 13, 2007

The Solace of Lost Siddurim

by Karen Avrech

Since Ariel ZT'L, died much of my waking and sleeping life, since I dream of him often, is taken up with assembling images of my son. I have said many times that the piercing sense of loss is mounting as time passes. Paradoxically, as the years go by, I am increasingly feeling the immediacy of Ariel's presence, something I blocked out in the early years, perhaps as a defensive measure.

I have flashbacks now to his early years. The other day I saw him vividly as a two year old, in a red fleece jacket, rosy-cheeked in the New York cold, head covered in his navy wool hat. Images are returning, and tears are falling from my eyes at the oddest moments,

Along with the grieving, one seeks messages. There must be some meaning, some ongoing connection. A small miracle that gives solace. I like to tell myself that I was granted one such "message" recently.

My older daughter gave me a siddur (prayer book) with an inscription at the close of her year in Israel. It was the same year that Ariel died. She wrote that she was grateful for the experience, grateful to us for allowing her to be in Israel at that time, knowing how hard that year was for us all.

This past November, five years later, we were visiting her younger sister at the same seminary. I lost the siddur on that trip. I know I dropped it in the taxi on our way from the hotel to the school. I called the taxi company three times and each time they angrily told me that they didn't find any siddur. I gave up.

I loved that siddur with the special inscription.

Two months later, on a trip to my newly married daughter's home in Teaneck, I asked her for a siddur for the morning prayer since I no longer had my own travelling siddur. She gave me one that felt very comfortable in my hand. I said, "Oh, this feels so familiar." I looked for an inscription to see where it came from, to whom it belonged.

What a surprise -- it was originally mine. It was a siddur that was given to me by my father ZT'L upon the birth of my youngest daughter. I had forgotten all about it. It was inscribed by my father with a Hebrew poem he had composed for the occasion. My father died this past year, so I was thrilled to rediscover this siddur.

I prayed.

As I turned the pages, I noticed that some of the prayers had penciled annotations in the margins. For example, the different paragraphs of the Sh'ma were given names: Chesed, Din, Tiferet.

But the handwriting was Ariel's!

I began to cry. He had written comments on some of the prayers. I don't know if he had used the siddur in a class, or just needed to make his own insertions.

Now the lost siddur had led me to the siddur that I was meant to find. A new gift from the same daughter from the two people in my life who were no longer alive to speak to me: my father and my son. A small miracle that brings some solace where comfort is rare.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 06:59 PM | Comments (18)

December 15, 2006

Chanukah 2006

Tonight is the first night of Chanukah.

Holidays without Ariel are particularly difficult. Before each holiday, our son, always the scholar, would pull down from his bookshelves his many seforim, and diligently study the halachos of each particular Yom Tov. Ariel was interested in exactitute for in getting the details of our rituals just right, the correct spiritual feelings will flow like a river.

Talmud Torah was first and foremost, Ariel's joy.

Karen has unearthed our menorahs and I have to set them up in the living room. Yet I hesitate because I see Ariel when I step into that room. I see him, so proper and handsome, in his dark suit and black Borsalino hat; I see him lighting the Chanukah candles, saying the b'rachos, with such kavanah. I hear him singing the songs, and I still, three years later, have trouble believing that he will not be here to celebrate with us.

How did that happen?

Karen and I wish you all a Happy Chanukah and a lovely and meaningful Shabbos.

Here's a nice simple recipe for classic potato latkes. Plus: Four Tips to Successful Latkes.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 12:48 PM | Comments (15)

December 11, 2006

Etta Israel Shabbos

"Are you going to be okay?"
"Uh-huh."
The mother hesitates.
"Do you want me to stay?"
"No."

Karen blanches, turns and flees the room.

It is Friday, an hour before Shabbos. Etta Israel are hosting a special Shabbaton at my shul the Young Israel of Century City.

Karen and I have been asked to host one young man and his counselor for Shabbos. The counselor has not yet arrived. The young man's mother has brought her son to our home and she is hesitant, so hesitant to leave her child in the hands of strangers.

Will we be patient with him? Will we be understanding? Can we be trusted?

Karen and I assure the mother that her son is welcome in our home. She pastes an awkward smile to her face. A central portion of me feels like telling her that we had a son who was sick for years and years, that we know what it is to take care of a child; we know heartache, and we really are responsible people -- especially Karen, she is the proverbial rock. But of course, I can say none of these things.

Our son is gone, and her son has special needs -- and there are worlds spinning within worlds.

"It will be fine," I say. "We have done this before."
"Really?"
"Don't worry, your son is very welcome in our home. We have your phone number and if anything happens we will call you, even if it's Shabbos."

She sighs with relief, hands me a sheet that explains her son's various physical needs and what medications he has to take. In fact, her son is is a lovely young man with a sense of irony, an easy laugh, a great vocabulary, and I wish that all our guests were as polite, thoughtful and as much fun.

Later, Karen tells me: "I thought my heart would explode in a million pieces. The scene looked just like so many replays of our partings with Ariel ZT'L, in the hospital, or even Ner Yisroel. The helplessness of leaving your son with strangers, the ambivalence of leaving them on their own, even knowing it's for their own good. I just wanted to melt and had to go into the kitchen and cry in disbelief at our loss."

Yes, I saw it too.

So many times we had to leave Ariel in the hospital, and so many times we said to him: "Are you okay? Is it okay for us to leave?"

Ariel always said, "yes."

Ariel's expression, like this young man's, betrayed his words, for it revealed anxiety, and dismay -- painted by huge reserves of unbelievable courage.

But really, deep in our gut we always felt that it was never okay to leave him.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:12 AM | Comments (17)

October 01, 2006

Yizkor

Karen writes: The ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are days of inner reflection, when indivduals examine their souls, their goals, and try to repair past misdeeds. It's the time to stop and ask, "Is this where I want to be in my life?" " Where should I be going?"

It seems appropriate to remind our readers that Seraphic Secret was established as a way to express and channel our grief of losing our precious son, Ariel Chaim, of blessed memory. I know that at least initially, some of the readers were parents who were experiencing the same unspeakable pain. I have gone through various stages of mourning since Ariel died, most involving surprising vagaries of memory.

I wrote about Ariel in the "Book of Ariel" knowing that each year would bring new feelings. Now after three years, I see I was right. Time has not healed the pain. It has done the opposite. Time has finally allowed me to feel the pain.

Initially there is a period of shock. I believe that the body actually preserves itself from too much pain by blocking memories. For the first year I was numb. For the second year, I had difficulty evoking integrated memories of Ariel. It sounds bizarre, but I had to struggle to actually imagine him in his vitality and conjure up the life we had together.

Now after three years, I am finally able to integrate the various parts of him and feel his presence. Now, after three long years I can finally evoke his laughter, his voice, his movements, his stance, his tears. I can imagine the continuum from his babyhood through his illness, his recovery until the final year. It is more painful. It is unbearable but I am no longer blocked.

So as we prepare to say Yizkor, the prayer of remembrance, I am coming closer to real memory and subsequently the real sadness. The deep grieving has only just begun.

I was searching for some way to come closer to my pious Ariel this Yom Kippur. The ideal way came to me Erev Shabbos when I remembered the ad I saw for the new Machzor published by Khal publishing with the commentary by Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik.

Ariel Z"L would have been thrilled to add this book to his library. I read the introduction over Shabbos and it is wonderful. It will surely enhance my memory of my reverant, intense son during the Yom Kippur davening and add meaning to my own prayers.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 05:09 PM | Comments (12)

September 22, 2006

Rosh Hashanah - 5767

The Yom Tovim, the High Holidays, are the most difficult times for us.

Ariel's absence, always a profound presence, sprouts anew; it grows with alarming speed, it widens, it mutates into an emotional wall that feels thoroughly physical, separating us from, well -- everyone but each other.

I can still hear my lone voice reciting the Kaddish on the Rosh Hashanah after Ariel was niftar. How was it that in such a large shul I was the only person saying Kaddish? Yet, there I stood, chanting in a broken and weak voice, alone in a room of over two hundred men and women, barely able to make it through the prayer. Each time I said the Kaddish, I could feel the tension in the room as people strained with me, willing me to somehow chant the words, somehow pull myself together and fulfill this wrenching obligation.

There were moments when I could not believe that it was my voice saying the Kaddish.

There were moments when I could not believe that I was me.

*****

Unlike the other major Jewish holidays--the Yamim Noraim, The Days of Awe--do not mark national/agricultural events in the Jewish calendar.

Rosh Hashanah commemorates a universal event.

The world was created on Rosh Hashanah.

These days are purely religious, time set aside and dedicated to ponder and reaffirm G-d's role as Master of the Universe. We are affirming G-d's annointment as the sole Creator -- King of the Universe.

Our prayer emphasizes our short days on His earth.

Our prayer delves into self-examination.

Spirituality and holiness are pondered.

On Rosh Hashanah the Jew, through admission of sin, prayer, and acts of Teshuva, (good deeds) the Jew beseeches G-d to grant forgiveness. We believe that in His mercy, He will receive the truly penitent. We ask to be inscribed into the Book of Life.

We ask G-d to make his decisions based on his attributes of mercy, rather than inflexible din (law) as he forgave the Jews after the sin of the Golden Calf.

The Gates of Repentance are open until Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. At this time, G-d's final decree is established:

"Who will live and who will die; who will be serene and who will be disturbed; who will be poor and who will be rich; who will be humbled and who will be exalted."

Karen and I wish you all a lovely and meaningful Shabbos and Shanah Tova Umituka.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 03:06 PM | Comments (6)

September 11, 2006

Ariel: "I Am not a Tragedy"

Karen writes: Since Ariel is not able to speak through the internet, and I feel I know my son pretty well, I feel obligated to modify the somewhat dismal portrait presented in his father's previous post. Ariel vehemently rejected the role of the tragic soul. He bore his illness as just something that happened, he didn't want special treatment, and he surely abhored pity.

I remember the morning of September 11, 2001, as a crisp (for Los Angeles) autumn day, falling in the Jewish Holiday calendar when Ariel was home, not because of illness, but because of vacation. He had been free of cancer for over three years, and his illness was, especially for him, a distant memory. It was no longer a factor in his life. Even when he was sick, he denied that it was a factor in his life!

Ariel, as you would expect for most teenagers, did not want to be singled out as different. His means of coping, was "healthy denial" and so he didn't dwell on his prognosis. He never asked the horrible questions that reverberated constantly in his parents' minds. What would be the point? He worked on living, on being productive, even when he could barely breathe.

And so, he was not a tragic figure. He represented all that was hopeful in life. His will to live and conquer obstacles surely was instrumental in overcoming medical crises. We tend to forget the aggressive, serious initial onslaught of the cancer, and the numerous battles he fought and won. So, I like to think of Ariel as a hero, a fighter, whose courage and resilience overshadows tragedy. That's what he would want.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:15 PM | Comments (4)

Not a Tragedy

Ariel ZT'L, steps into our bedroom and says, "Do you know what's going on in New York?"

Karen and I shrug.

"Better turn on the TV," says Ariel.

Black smoke is rising from one of the Twin Towers. A newscaster tells us that a passenger jet airliner has hit the World Trade Center.

"How many people work there?" Ariel asks.
"Thousands, tens of thousands, it's a whole world down there," I say.

Ariel is home from Ner Israel Rabbinical Academy. He's recovered from his brain cancer, from years of massive chemotherapy and radiation. It's so good to have him home. Karen and I are thankful for every moment with our son, for every smile, for every single breath he takes.

Arab terror has hit the American mainland. I remember thinking: now maybe Americans will understand what Israel endures on a daily basis.

And then the second plane hits and we are blown into a horrific new age. There is a terrible bloom of fire and I realize that jet fuel has just incinerated hundreds of human beings. I grip Ariel's hand.

"Too tight, Dad."
"Sorry."

After a while Ariel retreats to his room. He says Tehillim. He learns Talmud. He crawls into his mind. I remain locked to the box.

The Twin Towers look like a modern Vesuvias, and then abruptly, they collapse -- flatten like toys.

I call Ariel up to watch the instant replays.

And then it happens, the very first signs that some America and Americans cannot, do not, will not understand. The newscasters refer to the Twin Towers attack as a "tragedy."

Ariel says: "Daddy, this isn't a tragedy, it's an atrocity."
I nod my head.
"Why do they call it a tragedy?"
"They don't understand evil."

Ariel died two years later at the tender age of twenty-two.

That was a tragedy. We could not control it. Fighting the cancer, the effects of the chemotherapy and the radiation, was fighting a force of nature. But Ariel was quite right; 9/11 was no tragedy, it was an atrocity, and if you cannot even recognize evil, well how can you fight it?

Unfortunately, there are many Americans who are clueless about evil--and so they have no idea how to properly memorialize those who were slaughtered on 9/11. For the true memorial for those who were so cruelly murdered in the air and on the ground, is never to forget, and to relentlessly strike back at our jihadist enemies wherever they are -- until they are but dust and ashes.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:07 AM | Comments (32)

June 12, 2006

The Day After

Here are Karen's opening remark's for the Third Annual Ariel Avrech Memorial Lecture. Afterwards Mrs. Rachel Friedman lectured brilliantly, and then Cantor Avshalom Katz lovingly chanted the "Kayl Malei Rachamim." There was a lovely brunch where Seraphic friends met face to face for the first time. Karen and I want to thank everyone who attended, but especially Seraphic Secret friends who made such an effort and traveled, in some cases, so far, to attend and honor Ariel's memory. Karen and I are deeply grateful for your generosity.

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Karen's Opening Remarks

On Shavuous the Jews received the gift of the Torah, but I also received a private gift two weeks ago.
When you hear a new story about a loved one, it is almost like cheating death. You feel like time is moving forward for just an instant, because you have a fresh glimpse of this person. The new revelation, a snapshot of the person allows you to steal some extra time from the past, a life story you thought was sealed, now has a new chapter.

I received such a gift Erev Shavuous from one of Ariel’s oldest and dearest friends, Ari Miller. He told us a Shavuous story that is emblematic of Ariel. The boys of Yeshiva Gedolah had all stayed up all night for Tikun Lel Shavuot, The small group from this side of town decided it was worth it to walk back in the early morning craving the comfort of their own beds rather than crashing at friends for the entire holiday.

After walking four miles, as the boys neared the home stretch Ari recalls, “I was walking on auto pilot most of the way but the excitement of crawling into bed in a few minutes must have given me a second wind. As I neared the park bordering my house I became more awake. At that point I remember that Ariel was still giving divrei Torah and he probably had not stopped the entire way home.”

This was Ariel, always focused on Torah, never one to compartmentalize his life into the “fun” parts and the “Torah” parts. Everything was integrated and he never wasted a moment. When he left the house he tucked a sefer, under his arm, even for a five minute car trip.

One of Ariel’s friends told us that a la Charlie Brown, Ariel told him his definition of happiness. Here goes: Happiness, according to Ariel, was sitting in Bais Midrash struggling through a torturous sugyah, portion, of Gemara, Talmud, solving it, and then going out for a cool, tall, glass of water.

Ariel’s Kever, his grave, includes the phrase, Yagah V”amal B”Torah. He worked assiduously and with great effort at the study of Torah. We recently saw a movie where people envisioned Heaven. Jokingly one person said- It’s like when you want a Mountain Dew, you don’t even have to do anything to get it. You just think of it and you’re quenched.

Well, I don’t think that’s Ariel’s version of Gan Eden. I think he is still working and struggling at Torah. As to whether he is immediately quenched or he actually drinks that tall glass of cold water – I will have to see for myself. I do know that the best way we can honor him is to devote this day to learning Torah in his memory, and to walk that extra mile every day still talking Torah.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 07:31 AM | Comments (21)

June 09, 2006

Ariel Avrech Memorial Lecture

Karen and I remind all our Seraphic friends that the the Third Annual Ariel Avrech Memorial Lecture takes place this coming:

Sunday, June 11, 2006.

The Young Israel of Century City
9317 West Pico Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90035
(310)273-6954

Time: 10:00 AM

The lecture is free.

The Avrech Family & Friends are honored to present as our guest lecturer:

Rachel Friedman

Mrs. Friedman is a world renowned scholar on The Five Books of Moses, and The Prophets.

The title of her lecture is: How Can We Come to Know G-d?

What does "knowledge" mean in the Bible? How do our ancestors come to "know" G-d in biblical times? In an age devoid of prophecy and open Divine revelation, how can each of us come to "know" G-d today?

Through an exploration of selected Torah texts as well as Midrashic and medieval commentaries, we will explore how the Torah defines and guides the relationship between G-d and human beings.

Mrs. Friedman was inspired to explore this topic by some of Ariel's comments ZT'L in his article Bringing Purim Into Pesach on p. 113 of The Book of Ariel.

Rachel Friedman is Director of the Yesodot Foundations Program at the Drisha Institute for Jewish Education in New York City.

Rachel is lead author of Joshua of the Tanach Yomi , Daily Torah Study series published by AMIT. She also contributes to each of the Tanach Yomi volumes on the Five Books of Moses.

Rachel has taught Bible at the Frisch School and at the Ma'ayanot Women's Adult Education Program in Northern New Jersey. She has also practiced law at major law firms including Weil Gotshal & Manges in New York City.

Rachel has an MA in Bible from the Bernard Revel Graduate School of Yeshiva University and a JD from Columbia University School of Law. She also did graduate work at the Columbia University School of International and Public Affairs.

A delicious brunch will follow the lecture.

We look forward to seeing many Seraphic friends at the lecture.

Karen and I wish everyone a lovely and meaningful Shabbos.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:44 AM | Comments (22)

June 01, 2006

Learning & Remembering

Tonight begins the holiday of Shavuos. We celebrate G-d's giving of the Torah to the Jewish people. It is Jewish tradition to sit up all night, usually in the synagogue, and study Torah until dawn.

To learn Torah in this way is to put yourself in the frame of mind of those Jews who waited and prepared themselves all night at the foot of Mt. Sinai to receive the Torah.

Ariel ZT'L took Shavuos learning with his customary piety and joy.

Tonight, I will learn Torah as a Jew whose soul was at Sinai, for the Sages us teach that all Jewish souls, past present and future, were gathered at Sinai to accept the Torah. Tonight, I will learn Torah as a Jew whose soul was at Sinai; and my soul will be gathered together with Ariel's at the foot of Sinai as the heavens opened and the holy Torah was delivered.

Seraphic Secret will be off-line until the end of Shabbos. Karen and I wish all our Seraphic friends a lovely and meaningful Shavuos and Shabbos.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 06:33 PM | Comments (5)

April 05, 2006

Seraphic Invitation

Karen and I would like to invite all our Seraphic Friends to the Third Annual Ariel Avrech Memorial Lecture.

Sunday, June 11, 2006.

The Young Israel of Century City
9317 West Pico Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90035
(310)273-6954

Time: 10:00 AM

The lecture is free.

The Avrech Family & Friends are honored to present as our guest lecturer:

Rachel Friedman

Mrs. Friedman is a world renowned scholar on The Five Books of Moses, and The Prophets.

The title of her lecture is: How Can We Come to Know G-d?

What does "knowledge" mean in the Bible? How do our ancestors come to "know" G-d in biblical times? In an age devoid of prophecy and open Divine revelation, how can each of us come to "know" G-d today?

Through an exploration of selected Torah texts as well as Midrashic and medieval commentaries, we will explore how the Torah defines and guides the relationship between G-d and human beings.

Mrs. Friedman was inspired to explore this topic by some of Ariel's comments ZT'L in his article Bringing Purim Into Pesach on p. 113 of The Book of Ariel.

Rachel Friedman is Director of the Yesodot Foundations Program at the Drisha Institute for Jewish Education in New York City. She also coordinates the Tanach program for the Drisha Scholar's Circle. Rachel is an instructor of Bible and exegesis and has taught in Drisha's Continuing Education, Beit Midrash, Talmud/Tanach and Scholar's Circle Program.

Rachel is lead author of Joshua of the Tanach Yomi , Daily Torah Study series published by AMIT. She also contributes to each of the Tanach Yomi volumes on the Five Books of Moses.

Rachel has taught Bible at the Frisch School and at the Ma'ayanot Women's Adult Education Program in Northern New Jersey. She has also practiced law at major law firms including Weil Gotshal & Manges in New York City.

Rachel has an MA in Bible from the Bernard Revel Graduate School of Yeshiva University and a JD from Columbia University School of Law. She also did graduate work at the Columbia University School of International and Public Affairs.

A delicious brunch follows the lecture. If you want a taste of Offspring #2's wedding, well, we're using the very same caterer.

Interpolation: a short tale of food, medicine and Shabbos.

When Ariel was in the hospital waiting for a lung transplant, a transplant that never happened, there was a fine young physician, J., who cared for Ariel on a daily basis, and who's relationship with Ariel expanded well beyond the normal doctor/patient boundaries.

This young doctor was and is Shomer Shabbos, a Sabbath observer, but naturally he does not keep the Sabbath in the hospital for his duties as a physician, the commandment to preserve life comes first--as prescribed by Halacha, Jewish law.

Shabbos in the hospital: after the sun fell, after Ariel and I davened, prayed, I poured grape juice for Ariel, and as if by magic, J., the young physician appeared in Ariel's room, and Ariel chanted the Kiddush, the blessing over the grape juice.
J. sank heavily into a visitor's chair.
"Ahhh, Shabbos," he sighed.

We sang Shabbos z'miros, songs, together, and then Ariel gave a short d'var Torah, a Torah thought, without preparation, just off the top of his head.

J. never failed to be astonished at Ariel's iron fortitude. You see, our son was hooked up to, gosh, so many machines. He was not even breathing on his own. And yet, and yet, Ariel insisted on living his life as prescribed by the Torah and the Mesorah--without one complaint, without conceding any of the holy parts because the whole was so damaged. Ariel ignored the broken parts. Karen called it, "healthy denial."

Once, in all seriousness, J. confided to me: "Ariel, your son, he might be, have you ever considered that he's one of the Lamed Vovniks?"

This is not something we Orthodox Jews suggest to one another very often, or lightly. In fact, pious Jews almost never seriously consider this notion. And yet J. is a deeply serious man and there was not a flicker of irony in his eyes nor a hint of self consciouness.

And since then, several people, all G-d fearing and learned, have proposed the very same thought to me.

Which makes me tremble. For the more time that passes the more vividy does our son come into focus and yes, there was something otherworldly about our Ariel Chaim.

And if you'd like a peek into how a writer loots material, read my book The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maiden, where you will discover a whole storyline about the Lamed Vovniks.

When Ariel was niftar, when Ariel's soul left his body, and J. found out, it's the only time I ever saw one of my son's doctors weep. J. was at Ariel's funeral. J paid a shiva call.

And J.'s father catered Offspring #2's wedding and will be catering the Ariel Avrech Memorial Lecture.

End Interpolation.

Attention Seraphic Secret University Students!

1. You will get extra credit for attending the lecture.
2. There will be a Seraphic Secret table reserved.
3. Bring your computers so you can communicate with one another if talking face-to-face proves too challenging.
4. No food fights.
5. Memo to Randi: No need to bring babake or coffee. Consider this your day off.

Karen and I can think of no more appropriate venue for meeting our Seraphic Friends. To us, you have extended great measures of comfort and generosity. We'd like to give something tangible back in return. The Third Annual Ariel Avrech Memorial Lecture would be a fine way indeed. And do keep in mind that by attending this lecture, you will be participating in the Mesorah. Yahrzeits have been observed since Talmudic times. It is a sign of reverance for the deceased. And yahrtzeit lectures, memorial lectures, are just as ancient.

Karen and I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:41 AM | Comments (35)

April 03, 2006

Notebooks, Unbearable -- Karen

The thing that made this particular reading so difficult and yet so magnetic was that this book was different from all the others.

Most of Ariel's notebooks consist of copious pages of Talmudic lectures, fine points of law, intellectual webs that are impossible to follow if you don't know the original disagreement. But this notebook is different. These are his own in-depth notes for a talk he was planning to give in the Young Israel of Century City over spring break.

This particular d'var Torah that Ariel was working on is about Jewish philosophy, using traditional commentaries of course, but it spins off into the connections of the relationship between memory and practice and the constant dialectic between Zachor, the spark of memory, and Shamor, the actualization of practice.

Ariel makes the analogies of male and female. He compares Moses with Mordechai, Esther and Mordechai, the central characters from the story of Purim. I don't know how Ariel does it, but in the end it all coheres and makes perfect sense and I was astonished by the sophistication of his references.

Here, Ariel pulls in ideas about modesty and the origin of the world; the notions are cosmic. I never imagined that my son was taking on such bold themes. But the more I read, the more painful it became because I was remembering and seeing Ariel more fully. With each word he was being pulled more sharply into focus. All the dimensions of his personality were emerging in bold relief and I felt I would collapse from the pain -- I had to close the notebook.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:02 PM | Comments (11)

Notebooks, Unbearable -- Robert

Yesterday was Ariel's secular birthday. He would have been 25-years old.

Karen spent the day furiously cleaning for Passover.

My office, in back of the house, is where I decided to make my stand. I printed out pictures from Offspring #2's wedding, and worked on one of my elaborate scrapbook pages--a combination cubist collage, Talmudic page, and a father's sentimental love song.

A few days ago, Karen forced herself to step into Ariel's room, a space she almost never enters. She took one of his Torah notebooks, opened it at random, and found herself swimming in one of Ariel's elaborate exegesis on Pesach, Passover.

His handwriting is meticulous, every page written using his beloved fountain pens.

"I don't have to press very hard," he used to say "and so my hand doesn't cramp." Ariel was practical. Never would he admit that he loved the elegance of the fountain pens that I lavished on him.

Ariel favored rich blue inks. Every once in a while he throws in a deep green or a pitch black. But mostly the notebooks are a sea of serene blue.

Karen took it as a sign, what could be more clear? that Ariel wanted her to recite this d'var Torah, this Torah thought, at our Passover table.

But last night, Karen studied Ariel's notebook. She hunched over and her body shook.

"I'll never be able to summarize it," Karen sobbed, "it's too complicated."

"Maybe just read it."

Peering into Ariel's notebooks, there are about two-dozen of them, is the closest we can get to our son. It is his essence. They contain his love of Torah, his attempts to unify specific Talmudic ideas; there is his perfect belief in G-d, and here is his love of Israel. The march of ideas comes at you one after the other--boom, boom, boom--intellectual howitzers that simply knock you flat. Ariel was so young when these thoughts stormed his mind; how was it possible?

The notebooks are almost unbearable to open. But someone has to for they belong to the Jewish people and the Mesorah, the tradition that reaches back to Sinai.

"What did we do to deserve such a child?" Karen asked me.

I had no answer.
I have no answers.
There are no answers.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:34 AM | Comments (29)

February 28, 2006

White Stone

"I visited Ariel's grave."

It takes me a moment to absorb what my guest is saying. It takes me a moment to catch my breath. Have I heard right? We have just had dinner at my favorite restaurant, Pico Kosher Deli, and as we step outside, I am trying to explain loss and memory.

"The thing that Karen and I fear most, I suppose, is silence. When people don't say anything about Ariel for fear of upsetting us. What they don't understand is that we love to hear about him. Even the smallest story, it just makes us so happy. You see we don't want him to be forgotten."

My guest is in town because it's his father's yahrtzeit, the anniversary of his father's death. He is here to visit his father's grave, and to pray with an established minyan, quorum.

I've arranged for my guest to lead the prayers in my synagogue, an honor usually reserved for shul members, but because he is my friend, the shul readily allows him to lead the prayers. My shul is a welcoming place, a warm environment.

It's the first time I've met my friend for he is another Seraphic friend. Commenting in Seraphic Secret for close to two years, I feel like I've known him my whole life.

Before my friend arrives, Offspring #3 wonders: "What happens if he's weird, afterall, you just know him on-line."

But I have learned that Seraphic commenters reveal themselves very quickly on-line. Those I've met in person--Pearl, Jake, Randi, Esther K--have been just who they present in cyberspace. Good and fine and smart people.

And so, hours after we've met, after lengthy conversations, my guest confesses:

"I visited Ariel's grave."
"You what?"
"I didn't know whether I should mention it or not, but I felt it was a way of honoring our friendship, and honoring Ariel."
"How did you find it?"
"You told me that Ariel's grave was in Simi Valley. I'm pretty good at finding things on the internet, it wasn't hard to locate. I drove there this morning, said Tehillim, Psalms, spoke to Ariel, and left a stone."

He shrugs as if it's no big deal. He seems embarrassed. I think he's sorry he told me.

On Pico Boulevard, Los Angeles, here in America, I am absolutely riven.

My night table is piled high with books about war: Eritrea, Sudan, The Battle of Algiers, Chad, Sierra Leone, Congo, Columbia, endless evil, endless butchery, I forget that there is still goodness.

I embrace my friend and thank him. And later that night, when I tell Karen, she breaks down and weeps.

A few days later, Karen and I visit Ariel's grave, and there we see a fresh white stone.

Lance Fogel's stone.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:38 AM | Comments (57)

January 10, 2006

Endless Moment

I am dizzy.

Karen and I are attending a simcha, a celebration. I have been dancing with the men, going round and round like a top. My joy for the young couple who are celebrating their engagement knows no bounds. I am determined that nothing will dilute the happiness that seems to burst from every corner of the room.

I take a break, mop the sweat from my face and wander over to watch the women dance. Ah, what a contrast. We men stomp like mad elephants, our limbs lash out spasmodically, move without rhythm or rhyme. But the women, they dance like angels. Watch as they slip and slide and ululate. I shiver at the ancient sound.

Ariel should be here.

I have to put a stop this thought for I have vowed that I would build a firewall -- experience only joy.

To be in the present only, is the promise I have made.

And yet... and yet what is the present if not the sum total of the past up through this moment?

And now I notice that Karen is dancing with Offsprings Number Two and Three; they are like three sleek young colts let loose in a vast meadow.

Mesmerized, I gaze at the women who are my life. They giggle like school girls, their eyes flash as their limbs snake this way and that. Oh, how the body loves freedom. Joy and happiness are what we Jews are built for. Karen is as beautiful as when I first saw her when I was ten-years old.

Honestly, I still have trouble believing that this good, beautiful and fearsomely intelligent woman has married me, loves me, has built a life with me.

The music rises to a crescendo. Karen and the girls are a lovely blur.

I would like to stay like this for the rest of my life. Experience this feeling eternally. For this endless moment is what we live for.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:19 AM | Comments (44)

October 17, 2005

Succos Present, Succos Past

Building the Succah is supposed to be a joyous labor, but I have to confess that for me it's simply an emotional minefield. The year before Ariel died, his best friends from his high school, Yeshiva Gedolah of Los Angeles, came over to our house.

They brought soda and pizza and they all sat in our Succah and sang, told divrei Torah, and traded school stories. Ariel sat bundled in his LL Bean coat, tethered to his oxygen cannister. He was so happy. I remember sitting inside the house and just listening to the boys singing and wondering if Ariel would be around for another Succos.

Now, our Succah seems, well, haunted.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:02 AM | Comments (11)

October 12, 2005

Forgiveness

When I was seven years old my parents sent me to Camp Masad, a sleep-a-way camp. I was incredibly homesick. I was lucky though, I had the world's most wonderful counselor: Shlomo Riskin. He was about 17 years old then, and he comforted me and took me under his wing. We have been friends ever since.

A few weeks ago, Rabbi Riskin was in Los Angeles to give a series of lectures. Here's one bit of Torah he said that was incredibly powerful. He asked: Why is Yom HaKippurim in the plural? His answer, and he quoted from the Talmud, but I'm afraid I forget the daf, the page, is that forgiveness goes in two directions. We ask G-d to forgive our sins, but we also have to decide if we are going to forgive G-d for what he's done to us. Thus the plural language.

And so, I go into Yom Hakippurim asking G-d to forgive me for my sins. And yet I wonder if I'm going to forgive G-d for taking Ariel from this life.

Not everything is forgivable.

Karen and I and offsprings #2 & 3 are off to the cemetery now, to Ariel's grave, to ask him to pray for us. We wish you all a meaningful fast.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:52 AM | Comments (11)

September 01, 2005

Tethered

Of all the horrendous scenes from Hurricane Katrina that Karen and I have watched, the single image that has sent us reeling is of a middle aged daughter dragging the corpse of her father on an inflatable mattress; he is tightly, lovingly wrapped in white sheets.

The dutiful daughter, eyes downcast, explains to the newscaster: "Daddy, he wuz on the oxygen in order to breathe, but then the oxygen, it plum ran out, and..." The daughter shrugs and shakes her head in despair. Trembling from either cold or emotion, it's hard to tell which, she moves on with incredible dignity, drags her father away from the pitiless gaze of the camera, a tiny figure in an immense watery landscape that looks, my gosh, like Bangladesh.

For the last year of Ariel's ZT"L life, he was a tethered to oxygen cannisters in one form or another. Severel times a night, Karen and I would take turns, climb out of bed, pad downstairs, slip into Ariel's room and check the level and flow of the oxygen.

"He's still breathing," we'd assure one another and go back to a troubled sleep.

Now, two years after Ariel's death, I still wake in the middle of the night and tell myself that I have to check his oxygen, and then abruptly I realize that no, I don't have to, for he is no longer breathing. And I feel, in the words of a friend who also lost a child "like this dead thing."

Sometimes, I just lie back in bed, hold my breath as long as I can, until my lungs are searing and feel like they are going to explode, but of course they won't and of course I need the oxygen so I gulp air, gulp oxygen, gulp life, and miss Ariel so very much that I have no idea how I'm going to get through another day.

I wonder if that dutiful daughter is still pulling her father's corpse through the water; in a way, I guess she'll always be hauling him along, for we are all carrying someone, aren't we?

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:30 AM | Comments (31)

August 15, 2005

Wake. Breathe. Repeat.

I've never been a strong faster. I get migraines and lack of food is a sure way of getting a heinous headache.

Yesterday, T'sha B'av, was no exception. But with Ariel gone, I tend to obsess on the past. Some days I can close the various drawers in my chest. On holidays, they spring open and stay that way. No amount of pressure can close them. I remember how Ariel fasted, with the only intent being to fulfill all halachic obligations, and therefore reach the spiritual heights halacha points towards. It was an awesome sight to behold.

I am left to my own meager devices now, which is to say that I concentrate on hunger, on discomfort, on the dozens of signals my body sends out telling me that it is not happy and the flesh will have its awful revenge. In other words: I whine about my discomfort and do very little thinking about the various Jewish calamities that have befallen our people through the ages on this day.

On the whole, my religious life has been diminished since Ariel's death. He was my role model, and no rabbi, no sage, no study partner can take his place. Ariel was... special. Now, all I can do is go from day to night and just remember to breathe; one breath after another. And repeat.

And then somewhere along the way in my fast, when the hunger and the migraine fuse -- I start thinking about, Auschwitz and how long I would have lasted in the death camps. Answer: not very long, maybe four minutes, tops. Conclusion: I'm a weak and useless Jew. Ariel was strong and righteous and, yes, heroic, and yet it is he who is gone.

I don't understand anything anymore.

Tomorrow, I'll return to "How I Married Karen", but I just had to get this down. You see, my life really isn't a screwball comedy.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:10 AM | Comments (24)

August 04, 2005

Seraphic Loyalty

After our post yesterday, Karen and I talk.

Karen: Didn't you sense my possessiveness?
Robert: No, I never understood it that way. I saw you as someone rightly asking for loyalty. And that's what marriage is about: loyalty.
Karen: Oh.
Robert: Without loyalty we're no better than animals.

I tell Karen that I love her, that I hope I make her happy. Karen says that it's beyond happiness. Now, after Ariel's death it's about... survival. We embrace each other and weep.

We endure.

Karen adds: Ironically, I am not the great animal lover in the family, but in their defense, I do know that animals show loyalty to each other, at least some do, elephants I think mourn their mates, and I do recall reading about other species as well. So loyalty goes beyond the human species.

As far as making me happy, that is a phrase that can mean so many different things. I can still find happiness in my life in many, many ways, but there is always a shadow, a piece that is out of joint. I forget for hours at a time, it is true.

I should have answered, "Yes," to Robert, he does make me happy. But there is never absolute happiness, and especially now, the picture is always incomplete, somebody is missing, and there is no one who can "make it better."

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 05:34 PM | Comments (10)

July 08, 2005

Second Yartzeit

I stand in shul reciting the Kaddish. I praise and sanctify the name of G-d. My voice is one among many mourners. Am I really saying Kaddish for my son? Is Ariel really dead? The moment is so difficult to process. Maybe if I just stop mourning and go home I'll find Ariel in his room, sitting at his desk, hard at work on one of his notebooks. Ariel will look up and smile: "Hi Dad." I will throw my arms around him and everything will be a all right.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 06:25 AM | Comments (15)

July 01, 2005

The Book of Ariel

Because so many requests have come in asking how to get hold of The Book of Ariel, Karen and I have decided to sell a limited number through Seraphic Secret. We only printed 500 books and so we don't have many copies to sell. The book is printed on heavy gloss paper, interspersed with vellum scrapbook pages that feature lovely pictures of Ariel growing up as well as pictures of all the contributors. The book is 135 pages long and comes with a CD of Eitan Katz's Song for Ariel. The Book of Ariel features essays by friends, relatives, and teachers. There are excerpts from Ariel's diaries and several of his Torah essays that are models of Torah scholarship. The Book of Ariel is a memorial to a young man whose life was tragically short, but in those twenty-two years Ariel managed to have a profound effect on almost everyone he ever met. Karen and I labored for two years on this book and it represents much of what we feel as proud but grieving parents.

It is significant that The Book of Ariel appears on Seraphic Secret today. It is exactly two years (secular time) since Ariel was niftar.

We are charging $23.95. All proceeds will go to the Ariel Avrech Memorial Fund. We hope that The Book of Ariel will allow you to know our son Ariel, ZT"L.

Cost includes shipping and handling. Online payment accepted via PayPal to robert.avrech@gmail.com, or send checks to:

Seraphic Press
1531 Cardiff Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90035

Posted by Jackie at 04:27 AM | Comments (4)

June 29, 2005

Ariel's Seraphic School Friends

Posted by Ari Z. Miller:

"You can go in."
With these four words I traveled back two years in time. I was visiting the home of Ariel's parents, Robert and Karen Avrech, with my friend Yehudah Kaplan and his brother Mordechai. I had not been in the house since the shiva and found myself looking at the art pieces on the wall, the striking photographs, the modern leather couches that were the temporary shul for the Yamim Noraim, the High Holy Days, and of course Robert's Emmy sitting on the mantle.

Yehuda and I explored the house. And then, Robert walked by as we passed Ariel's room.
"You can go in," he said.
Yehudah and I looked at each other trying to guage what the other wanted to do. Finally, we both shrugged our shoulders and stepped into our friend Ariel's bedroom.

I saw the familiar bar mitzvah invitation that hung from his wall, Ariel's drawing of a super hero, a poem by Ariel, his beloved Transformers, our class picture from Yeshiva Gedolah, more seforim than I could ever imagine fitting into one room, and finally I saw Ariel's wrist watch.

I have a thing for watches and I am usually able to remember who wears what time piece. Ariel's watch is something that has always stayed vividly in my memory. It has a black leather band, a white face and a gold bezel. I looked at the watch, wanting to touch it, yet at the same time not wanting to.

The room looks much as it did when Ariel was alive, and I realized that time was standing still on Ariel's wrist watch. I suppose over the last two years the battery has drained and aside for the watch being accurate twice a day, it just sits there.

I jump back two years and remember spending time in this room with my friend Ariel. I remember learning Torah with him on Shabbos afternoons, watching movies with him in the living room, eating a small snack in the kitchen, and schmoozing in the den. I remember the Sukkah party our classmates gave for Ariel in the front patio; we ate pizza, guzzled coke, told stories of our high school years. Memories are everywhere. The smells in the house trigger vivid memories, the doorbell chimes and even more memories come flooding into my consciousness.

One Shabbos afternoon Ariel, Robert and I were looking through a guns and ammo magazine. I did not know that Robert owned a gun and that he is something of a marksman. I never spoke about politics with Robert and I suppose I simply assumed that he was probably just another Hollywood Liberal. Those who know Robert will tell you that he is anything but. That Shabbos afternoon, we talked about the right to bear arms. Robert promised to take us all shooting one day--when Ariel was well enough..

Today, two years later, Robert took us shooting, just as he said he would.

Ariel ZT"L was a good friend to me and I love him very much. His picture sits on my desk and his memory will be with me forever
--

Ari Miller and Yehuda Kaplan attended Yeshiva Gedolah high school with Ariel. They remain beloved friends.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 12:14 AM | Comments (7)

June 28, 2005

Song for Ariel

One of Ariel's favorite CD's was "Biglal Avos", by brothers Eitan and
Shlomo Katz. During Ariel's last year of life, Eitan paid a visit to
our home and gave Ariel a private concert. Ariel sang alone and smiled
the entire time. A few weeks after Ariel passed away, Eitan sent me a
CD with a song he wrote in Ariel's memory. Karen and I want to share
this lovely tune with you. Thank you, Eitan. We will always be grateful for your kindness, your artistry and the joy you brought to Ariel ZT"L.

The song is Haneshama Lach, from The Selichos Service, Prayers Beseeching Forgiveness, chanted during the High Holy Days.

The soul is Yours, please have mercy on Your handiwork, take pity on Your labor...

Click here to download and listen to Song for Ariel by Eitan Katz.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:50 AM | Comments (3)

June 19, 2005

Seraphic Lecture

Today was the Second Annual Ariel Avrech Memorial Lecture. Rabbi David Fohrman used the story of Joseph and his brothers to explore the notion of forgiveness; The question he posed was whether forgiveness is possible when someone has done something absolutely horrible to you. How can you forgive an egregious injustice? He essentially proved that that by acknowledging the very imbalance in a relationship head on, you can repair the damage but by denying the hurt you caused, or denying the pain you feel, the relationship never can recover. Rabbi Fohrman engaged the audience in a real Socratic give and take. As soon as I can I will set up a link so you can purchase this amazing talk directly from Rabbi Fohrman.

It was a bittersweet day for Karen and me. We distributed the Book of Ariel at the lecture. We met old friends, made new friends and silently celebrated our 28th anniversary.

I leave for Oakland tomorrow morning where I've been asked to deliver a talk about "The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maiden" to the American Association of Jewish Librarians. When I return I will blog more about the lecture and post some pictures.

Karen adds: Ariel hand picked Rabbi Fohrman for us. He had attended his lectures and knowing our taste, passed on several of his tapes to us. He was right. I loved Rabbi Fohrman's analysis of the Ten Commandmants and The Story of Adam and Eve. Years passed. When the time came to choose a lecturer for this year I racked my brain to remember the name of the lecturer that Ariel told me about who also was a professor at Johns Hopkins. I went through his hundreds of tapes. This was a task I had avoided since his death. None of the tapes rang a bell. I used an old trick of going through the alphabet before I went to sleep, sort of counting sheep, hoping to toggle some circuit in the old memory bank. Nothing worked. Finally, one night I beseeched Ariel, saying, "Please, do your old mother a favor, tell me the name of the rabbi you liked so much, you know, the one with the sophisticated, but frum world view." Then it came to me. Coincidentally, that week, the name was confirmed. Rabbi Fohrman was writing a column in the Jewish Press, and his e-mail and all his contact information was now available to us. Such was providence. The lecture was a success and a wonderful tribute to Ariel. As we dropped Rabbi Fohrman off for his return flight I broke into tears thinking how much Ariel would have enjoyed getting closer to Rabbi Fohrman as we did today. Nothing makes sense in the face of Ariel's absence.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:40