Shemini Atzeres/Simchas Torah 5776

Rabbi YY Jacobson

• October 3, 2015
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• 20 Tishrei 5776
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  The Violin that Escaped Nazism

  Rabbi YY Jacobson

  • October 3, 2015

  Buy Me Out

  A very successful businessman had a meeting with his new son-in-law. "I love my daughter, and now I welcome you into the family," said the man. "To show you how much we care for you, I'm making you a 50-50 partner in my business. All you have to do is go to the factory every day and learn the operations."

  The son-in-law interrupted, "I hate factories. I can't stand the noise."

  "I see," replied the father-in-law. "Well, then you'll work in the office and take charge of some of the operations."

  "I hate office work," said the son-on-law. "I can't stand being stuck behind a desk all day."

  "Wait a minute," said the father-in-law. "I just make you half-owner of a moneymaking organization, but you don't like factories and won't work in a office. What am I going to do with you?"

  "Easy," said the young man. "Buy me out."

  Seems Crazy

  Imagine the following scene [adopt to the country you are living in.]

  The Supreme Court of the Unites States of America decides that we must pay special honor to the Constitution of the US. Since it was adopted on September 1787, it has been the foundation and source of the legal authority underlying the existence of the United States of America and the federal government of the United States, and it provides the framework for the organization of the US Government and for the relationship of the federal government to the states, to citizens, and to all people within the US.

  So the chief justice and the entire court resolve to set aside a day each year to celebrate the Constitution. They write poems and compose songs in its honor. When the day comes, they each take a constitution and dance around the Supreme Court building in Washington DC, singing the songs and reciting the poems. Our chief justices jump up and down for hours and hours dancing away with the Constitution, while thousands stand around, clapping their hands and saying L’chayim!

  What would you think about our dear Supreme Court judges behaving this way?

  Imagine if all doctors would once a year take the basic medical text-books they use in their practice of medicine and start dancing around the hospitals corridors? If all lawyers after passing the Bar would lift their law text books and dance around the court houses? How about if psychologists and psychiatrists would hold the books of Freud, Skinner, Adler and Young and dance with their patients in the clinics?

  I think we would deem them all insane (“mesugah af toyt,” as our grandmothers would say.)

  Yet this, more or less, is what Jews do at this time of the year, on the festival called Shmini Atzeres and Simchat Torah. We take the scrolls of the Torah (the Law) from the Holy Ark and dance round the synagogue, singing love songs to G-d for His gift, His holy words. For hours upon hours, in Shul and in streets, Jews hold on to a scroll and dance non-stop. Why?

  Joshua Bell

  Eight years ago, an intriguing little experiment made news. (It is a story I once shared with you, but one major aspect of the story I never shared with you.) The experiment – arranged by the Washington Post to study how people react to unexpected, out-of-context art – called for Joshua Bell, world-renowned violinist, to stand in a Washington D. C. subway and play classical music.

  It was January 12, 2007, on a Friday morning. Bell played for about 45 minutes, during which time more than a thousand people passed by. Ordinarily, when Bell gives a recital, he earns about a thousand dollars a minute (not bad for a nice Jewish boy).

  How many people, do you think, stopped to hear the brilliant music? How many people were moved by the masterful renditions of Joshua Bell?  0.006 percent of the people who passed by stopped to hear his music.

  In the three-quarters of an hour that Joshua Bell played, seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around and take in the performance, at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave money, most of them on the run. Throughout the entire time, there was never a crowd, not even for a second. In the 45 minutes he played in the subway, only 27 out of the 1,075 passersby threw a donation into his violin case, netting him a grand total of $32.

  No wonder the experiment caused a sensation!

  In its aftermath, scores of articles were written about the experiment, and all kinds of questions were asked. What happens to art without a frame? Can people not recognize quality art on their own? Why would people shell out upwards of hundred dollars a ticket to hear Josh Bell play and not stop to listen when the music was free? Does cost add value? Is it all part of our herd mentality –if we aren’t told something is good we cannot realize it is good? Are we really all one big fake herd, simply following what is “popular,” but can’t appreciate true beauty on its own?

  When you watch the video of the event, it is kind of sad. It is sad to observe the lost moments, the opportunities that slip through our hands never to return; the rush of life which sucks up the essence of life itself.

  Have we grown so superficial as to not appreciate art without a frame? Beauty without PR? Is there really no truth left if it is not "advertised" as such?

  These are fascinating questions. But when I initially read about this experiment, I noticed a trivial detail that the Washington Post mentioned as it related Bell’s preparation for this experiment. Bell, the Post claimed, took a taxi from his hotel to the subway station, a distance of merely three blocks, because his violin was too expensive to risk walking with on the street. What kind of violin was this to merit such care and protection?

  As it turns out, the answer to this question leads us not only to the story of the violin, but also to a story about courage, perseverance, and the making of history!

  Bronislaw Huberman

  The story leads us to the previous owner of the violin, a Jew by the name of Bronislaw Huberman.

  Born in 1882 to a secular Jewish family in Poland, Bronislaw Huberman’s musical genius was discovered early. At that time, classical music was the music that mattered. He gave his first public concert at the age of 7. When Bronislaw was 11, he garnered the support of arts patron Count Zamoyski of Paris, who gave young Bronislaw a gift of a Stradivarius (pronounced STRA-DI-VARIOUS) violin.

  A Stradivarius is an instrument made by Antonio Stradivari, an Italian born in 1644. During his lifetime – he died in 1737 – he crafted more than 1,100 instruments. Of those, 540 violins, 50 cellos, and 12 violas are still in existence today. A “Strad” (as it is called in short) produces the most magical tones, unequalled by any other stringed instrument. An ordinary violin you can buy for 7o dollars; a Strad sells today for 5 to 20 million dollars!...

  (Though many have attempted to reproduce the exact sound, none have succeeded yet. Over the years, music historians and researchers have come up with various theories about why a Stradivarius produces such exceptional sound. Some claim it’s the wood Stradivari used; others say it’s the varnish, and still others believe it’s the waters of Cremona, the city where Stradivari lived. While others say it is all fantasy. Yet it still sells for millions…)

  The Stradivarius gifted to Huberman by Count Zamoyski was crafted by Stradiveri in 1713 (the Baal Shem Tov was 15 at the time; George Washington was not born yet), making it more than three hundred years old now. He soon became one of the greatest violinists in Europe. Playing in the world-renowned Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, he became word famous.

  But then darkness descended. “The true artist,” Huberman once said, “does not create art as an end in itself; he creates art for human beings. Humanity is the goal.” And he lived up to his words. In 1933, as Hitler took control of Germany, Jewish musicians who’d been employed for years by the prestigious Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra suddenly found themselves jobless. Each month, Hitler ordered more and more Jewish musicians to be fired, and no other orchestra was allowed to hire them. However, to preserve his reputation among foreign countries, Hitler tried to retain a handful of the most famous Jewish musicians in the orchestra. One of the musicians he was persuaded to keep was Bronislaw Huberman.

  The orchestra’s conductor (Wilhelm Furtwängler) sent Huberman a personal offer of employment. He would be from the few Jew allowed to remain. But Huberman refused, and even issued a public letter denouncing Nazism.

  But he did something else truly remarkable and for this he shall always be remembered, not only as a great violinist, but as a great human being and Jew. He realized that Jews will face danger in German. He created, for the first time ever, the Palestine Symphony Orchestra, inviting all of the victimized Jewish musicians to join. In order to be granted entry, refugees had to demonstrate that their prospects of earning a living were strong. The soon-to-be Palestine Symphony Orchestra ensured that these refugees would be gainfully employed.

  Huberman insisted that the musicians could only emigrate if they were accompanied by their spouses, siblings, children, or parents, and so managed to snag certificates for all of them. Unlike many people, who believed that this European anti-semitic wave would soon pass, just as earlier anti-Semitic waves had, Huberman believed that Jews were no longer safe in Europe. Consequently, he worked tirelessly to rescue as many people as he could from the Nazis’ clutches. He ensured the British government that he’d employ many more people than he possibly could.

  While Huberman was struggling to persuade cultured musicians to make their home in a virtual desert, while he toiled to procure their visas, while he dissembled to the government in an effort to wrest more and more Jews away from Europe’s ever-increasing perilous situation, he also had to put together the orchestra itself. Money was needed. The musicians’ morale had to be maintained. A venue had to be found, a conductor procured.

  On the latter front, Huberman lucked out. Italian Arturo Toscanini, one of the most renowned conductors in Europe, agreed to conduct the orchestra’s first few performances. Toscanini, who wasn’t Jewish, was a special soul, who despised Nazism and Fascism. He courageously spoke out against the Nazis and Fascists even at the cost of his personal safety. In fact, after one such outburst, a group of Fascists beat him bloody. But he refused to be silenced.

  Toscanini traveled to Israel (Palestine) in 1936 to train the orchestra and ready them for their first performance. In keeping with his idealism, he declined payment for his work, even paying for his travel expenses himself. “I had to show my solidarity,” he said. “It is everyone’s duty to help in this cause according to one’s means.”

  Toscanini cemented the orchestra’s reputation. He was held in such high regard that as soon as it became known that he would be the orchestra’s conductor, fund-raising become easy, musicians clamored to become part of the orchestra, and people bought tickets to the concerts. In no time, nine concerts – in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Haifa, Cairo and Alexandria – were sold out.

  The first concert took place on December 26, 1936, in Tel Aviv. Crowds of people who couldn’t get tickets stood outside the windows and climbed up onto the roof to be able to hear the gorgeous music. When the concert was over, the audience gave the musicians a standing ovation that lasted thirty minutes!

  “One has to build a fist against anti-Semitism,” Huberman once said. “A first class orchestra would be that fist.”

  Indeed, a first class orchestra it became! The Palestine Symphony Orchestra toured the entire world, wowing audiences with their beautiful performances. In 1948, when the United Nations recognized Israel as a country, the orchestra changed its name to the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, which plays to this very day. Huberman had died a year before.

  Stolen Violin

  But the story is not over.

  On February 28, 1936, Huberman came to New York to give a recital at Carnegie Hall. Huberman always carried a double violin case, in which he kept his expensive Strad and another cheaper violin. For some reason, he decided to use the other violin for this recital and left the cheaper violin in his dressing room. When Huberman returned to the dressing room, the Strad had been stolen.

  It was never found or returned during Huberman’s lifetime.

  50 years passed! A New York Violinist, Joshua Altman, was diagnosed with stomach cancer. As he lay dying, he called his wife to his deathbed and told her he had stolen the violin from Huberman’s room at Carnegie Hall back in 1936. Altman died. The violin was soon sold by the insurance company to a British violinist, for 1.2 million dollars. In 2011, Joshua Bell paid almost four million dollars for the violin.

  Now, the world – when it’s not too busy to stop and listen – gets to hear the magnificent music played by a master on this historically rich Huberman-Bell Stradivarius.

  This is why Joshua Bell took a taxi from the hotel to the subway station; he did not want to take chances with Huberman’s Stradivarius.

  A Parable

  It is a magnificent story. But is it not also an appropriate parable for our entire people and our entire narrative from Sinai till today? Does it not capture the essence and theme of Simchat Torah?

  Thousands of years ago, at the foot of Sinai, we were given a “Strad violin,” an instrument to generate the most exquisite music the world—music in our souls, in our homes, in our communities and in our world. “Zemerot hayu le chukecha,” King David sings. “Your laws have been symphonies for me.”

  The Baal Shem Tov teaches, that Halacha is the acronym of “Hareoo L’Hashem Kal Haaretz,” "let the whole earth sing to G-d.” For the objective of Judaism is really to allow each person, and each creature, to promote their most beautiful and inspiring music. It sees each of us as a “violin,” in the famous words of Rabbi Yehuda Halevi (which made their way into the dong Yerushalayim Shel Zahav) “ani kenor lesherayich,” I am a violin to your melodies.

  And just as the chords of a violin which must be tied down to allow the music to play, part of Torah restricts and “ties us down,” not allowing certain behaviors, not in order to tie us down, but rather to allow our music to resonate from us loud and clear.

  Our violin—our Strad—has been through a lot.

  Just like Huberman’s violin, our violin too was exiled, stolen, and seemed like it disappeared. Huberman’s violin was exiled and expelled from Berlin and Europe, then stolen, and completely disappeared for almost 50 years!  Our violin too endured a similar fate. It was destroyed in Europe, it made its way to Israel, and to America, but then it was lost. The violin of Torah and Mitzvos, the violin of Torah, of Halacha, of real Jewish pride based on our priceless violin, has been lost for most of our people. It was abandoned. It did not seem like we will recover that violin. Modernity has snuffed out its sounds.

  But—friends—the unpredictable happened. The violin was recovered—and today it plays in Jewish homes and communities all across the globe. We have “Joshua Bells” all across the world playing that ancient violin, with splendor, beauty and exquisiteness. Judaism has made a renaissance. Jews are studying Torah; celebrating Mitzvos; observing life as Jews, day in day out.

  Yet, so often the music can be playing right near us, yet we ignore it. We can have one of the greatest violinists right on the subway playing the most beautiful ballads, but we are too busy, too stressed, too rushed, too dead, too lazy, too callous, too overwhelmed to even stop and take it in.

  The most amazing music can be playing right near me, but I can ignore it. If I am not told by the press, this is cool, I can just move on.

  We were given the Torah—the most amazing violin, not 300 years old, but 3000 years old. And it produces the most incredible music—not only classical music to enrich the spirit, but divine music to give meaning to life, to offer depth, hope, vitality, spirituality, to life. Divine music to keep families together, marriages fresh, intimacy alive. Divine music to be able to find happiness and joy in a world of chaos and depression and confusion. Divine music to offer perspective, vision, wisdom, guidance in a world often gone mad. Perhaps most important. Divine music that allowed us to stay the course and survive and thrive over three millennia, despite endless challenges and savage suffering. The single factor to which we owe our survival is this Strad—this Torah.

  And the music is right here, right now. But we can just pass buy and ignore it. Not because we are bad, but simply because we are in a rush or we are just not thinking too much about these types of things.

  So on Simchat Torah we dedicate a day to dance with our eternal “Stradivarious,” with our holy Torah. We celebrate it, as it celebrates us.

  New Beginning

  A story is told about one of the members of the old Yerushalmi family, the Cheshins. Reb Yehoshua Cheshin was about to walk into his Beis Medrash during the dancing on Simchas Torah when he saw two very modern looking Jews standing at the door, somewhat timid about entering. He approached them and invited them to come in and join the dancing. One of them said, “To tell you the truth rabbi, we have hardly studied any Torah this past year so we do not feel such a connection to the celebration of the completion of the Torah.” This Reb Yehoshua explained to them, “We have two chasanim (grooms) on Simchas Torah. We have the Chasan Torah and the Chasan Bereishis. Who ever heard of two grooms at a wedding?!

  The answer is, that there are two types of Jews. The Chasan Torah is the Jew who studied a lot of Torah the previous year and he celebrates that connection. He is indeed the groom of Torah.

  But the Chasan Bereishis is the Jew who did not have such a strong connection to the Torah the prior year but wants to start at Bereishis, at the beginning of the new cycle of the reading of the Torah. He wants to enter into a new relationship with Torah now.

  He looked at them and said, “Why don’t you come in as Chasan Bereishis!” Every Jew has a connection to starting to learn more Torah in the coming year and becoming a Chasan Bereishis. We can all establish a specific plan to learn a bit more this year than we did last year. Through that, we have a relationship with the Torah and Hashem that will stay with us throughout the cold upcoming months.

  This is the message today. Do not ignore the music playing right near you all year around. Seize that violin, listen to it, cherish it, make it part of your life, study it, and study it more, and as you carry it, it will carry you. Let us open ourselves this year to the music of Torah.

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