The Plaques, Boss! The Plaques!

Some days just turn out to be sadder than others, and today was one of those days. No, nothing monumental happened today. It's not an anniversary of any sort. It's just a day with a confluence of sadness. And being that this is the month of Elul, when reflection and introspection are supposed to be daily practice, I thought I would write a little bit about that process. 

 

Matthew Amiot

The loss of Adas Israel in Duluth has become even more heartbreaking. No, it was not a hate-crime. No, it was not a right-wing nutball with an antiSemitic twist in his brain. It was far more tragic that that: it was a homeless guy with a long history of mental health issues trying to find shelter on a windy, cold night. 

He was hiding in the structure beside the synagogue that would become, in a few weeks, a sukkah, the kind of temporary shelter used in the fields during the harvests of biblical times. Our fall harvest holiday is called Sukkot, and many of us build little shelters beside our own homes and synagogues because we are commanded to do just that. We eat in the sukkah, some sleep in their sukkah. It's a terrific tradition. 

 

But not this week. This week, Matthew Amiot sought shelter in a sukkah, probably not knowing what it was. Where it was supposed to provide shelter, it could not in Minnesota weather, so he lit a fire. And when he could not control the fire, he said he spit on it to put it out, and when he couldn't put it out, he walked away. At 2:15 in the morning. To seek shelter elsewhere.

The only hate in this crime is the disdain we feel toward those who are unable to care for themselves. Matthew Amiot was homeless. His family knew he was homeless. They knew Matthew had mental health issues. Apparently lots of people knew Matthew had mental health issues because he had a long arrest record full of petty crimes. But there he was, on the street. Seeking shelter in a skeleton structure of a sukkah. 

 

Matthew Amiot is a victim of that fire. Buildings can be rebuilt. Human beings aren't that lucky. What is wrong with Mr. Amiott cannot be fixed with a hot meal and a shower any more than taking shelter in a shukkah can protect him from the elements. The help Mr. Amiott needs is not available to him. And without resources, it never will be. 

 

Who will stand up for Matthew Amiott?

The original bima. I loved it.

At the same time as We, the Jewish Community of Minnesota, are mourning the loss of Adas Israel, I am morning the loss of my own home shul. Today, that sadness arrived in Minnesota via USPS. 

 

Several months ago, I heard from friends that my home shul, Temple Beth-El of Bellmore, the place I had my bat mitzvah, my wedding, and many of my high school misadventures, had lost the battle and would be closing, merging with other shuls nearby. I won't go into all the details of why, mostly because I'm not there and cannot offer a cogent opinion on the matter, but I will unashamedly tell you that the very first thought I had was, What about the plaques?

Plaques on the wall at TBE

Memorial plaques. Those things that line the walls of many a synagogue. We had 6 at Temple Beth-El, including my parents who specifically asked that their plaques be put there, in the shul they considered home. When their names were installed beneath those of my four grandparents, their loss suddenly was very real, very concrete. My cousin went over to take a picture so we should know they were in the right place. They were. And in time, I saw them for myself. It was bittersweet. They were all in my home shul but that was no longer my shul. And now that shul I have always called home is closing its doors, the only thing I could think about was What about the plaques?

 

I was not alone. Lots of people were asking. To make a long story short, the plaques are here, in front of me, sitting on the kitchen island. 

In a bit, I will take them over to what is now my home shul (before it was just my shul) and they will be housed with Ziggy's plaque. We don't hang them like art over at Beth Jacob; we only hang them up when the yahrzeit occurs...the anniversary of the death on the Jewish calendar. 

 

Seeing their names on the appropriate days will make me sad, but glad that they remain all together. And this year, when I cannot get to the cemetery in New York for kever avot, at least I have them all here on the kitchen island for a moment. With rocks. Including a green one. Just like at the cemetery.

Plaques in the kitchen.

When I think about the losses of this year, I must admit the gains were pretty good. Can't complain. But I will still feel the loss of my home shul, and even the loss of Adas Israel deep in my heart. I know they are buildings, but as Temple Beth-El was central to my growing up, Adas Israel raised a whole lotta kids over 119 years. I would guess they are feeling bereft in ways they never thought possible. My heart goes out to that community as they sift through the rubble for their plaques while they struggle to decide what to do next.

 

I'll go over to see Ziggy next Sunday and tell him the story of the plaques. He would agree I did the right thing to bring them here to be with his. Not like there was ever a question.

The WIfely Person's Tip o'the Week

Even if you're not Jewish, take a moment to look inside your heart.

It's a good thing to do every so often.