08/14/2024
Yesterday, New Haven said goodbye to a dear friend and pillar of the the community. As Barry Vine's daughters rightly said, it would take hours and hours to talk about how great of a person Barry was. Here are the words I shared:
It's hard to believe we are sitting here for our beloved Barry, our dear friend Berel. While our minds may be able to process, our hearts refuse to accept. Berel, you were the most decent man I knew. You were so many things to so many people. Just to me, I could describe you and our relationship in so many ways. You were my friend, my zaidy, a supporter, a board member, my congregant and my mentor. You effortlessly moved between these personas. It's no wonder that when I put your email address into my gmail search bar, there were 1,736 emails between us.
It’s hard to find words. I try to think what you would say, but I know you wouldn’t say anything, you would just do. That's who you were, a man of action. A man who saw something in his mind's eye and didn’t wait for anyone, you just made it happen.
You told me many times about growing up with nothing, not a penny. Working at the golf courses, carrying bags and shining shoes. Taking abuse. You quietly worked your way toward success, bringing others along with you, and soon you became, and I’ll use one of your favorite words, a macher. But really you never became a macher.
Machers don’t employ 20 people way past their prime just because you care to give them something to do.
Machers don’t make time to go out for lunch with everyone and their grandmother.
Machers don’t care to shop for and financially support a gift shop at the Towers because the seniors should also have something nice.
Machers don’t quietly give tens of thousands and perhaps even hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, and millions of dollars over their lifetime, to a wide range of charities seeking no recognition in return.
Machers don’t spend hours on the phone twisting the arm of their friends to make sure a camp scholarship fund is funded.
Machers don’t shlep 30 cases of soda in the back seat of their Cadilac to drop off at shuls and other community institutions.
Machers don’t think about others the way you thought about others. You were kind, genuine and humble.
Barry, you created a beautiful life for your family. You gave and gave and gave. And you loved to talk about the good old days growing up on Legion Avenue. The sights, the smells, the people, the stores. You could retrace the steps you took as a kid, pointing out each shop and their owner as you moved down the street. It was this nostalgia that led you to a favorite place of yours, the Shul where you were Bar Mitzah’d, the Orchard Street Shul. You lovingly dedicated your time, energy and money to helping us preserve this last piece of history from that era and I was looking forward to showing the completion of our latest renovation.
You loved to tell me about a memory from your childhood, how my grandfather, Rabbi Moshe Hecht would raise money at the Yom Kippur appeal, announcing a gift as anonymous and then, out loud, thanking the person who made the pledge. You thought it was so funny and you loved a good joke.
One of the first events that we had after we reopened the Shul was a “Retro Bar Mitzvah” inviting back those who had their bar mitzvah at the shul shul years ago. I remember you getting really involved in the details including asking me about the caterer and making sure they knew the correct ratio of people to lox.
You also celebrated your Bar Mitzvah Anniversary at the Shul. You read your Hatorah again 57 years after your original Bar Mitzvah. Your Hebrew birthday is the 9th of Av, which is tomorrow, and your haftorah is Nachamu Nachamu Ami which we will read this coming Shabbat.
The 9th day of the Hebrew month of Av, known as Tisha B’av is historically a difficult day. Tonight as we usher in the 9th of Av, we begin a fast day to mourn the destruction of the first and second Temple. The first temple was destroyed some 2500 years ago and the second Temple almost 500 years later. Along with the destruction of the Temples, the Beit Hamikdash, came tremendous suffering. War, death and exile almost snuffed out the flame of the Jewish existence.
On Shabbat, the Haftorah we will read, Barry’s Bar Mitzvah haftorah, is the first of what is known as the Sheva Denechemta, the seven Haftorahs of consolation. For the next seven weeks we will read sections from the prophets that are meant to console the Jewish people for the loss of the Holy Temple.
The very first verse of Barry’s Haftorah,is from the prophet Yeshayahu, Issiah and chapter 40 begins Nachamu, Nachamu Ami - G-d asking the prophet to console His people after all the destruction and pain, bringing them comfort by talking to them about the future redemption, and assuring them that there is still hope when all seems lost.
These words are powerful. G-d consoling the people then after their loss and G-d is consoling us today too for our loss. But there is another layer here. G-d was also mourning when the Temple was destroyed. G-d lost His home here on earth and G-d’s people were in pain, so G-d was in pain too.
Our sages teach us that the words of Barry’s haftorah can mean something more. The words Nachamu, Nachamu Ami are not G-d’s instruction to the prophet to console his people, rather they are G-d crying out, Nachamu Ami, console Me my nation. G-d is asking the people to console Him for his loss, G-d is asking the people to console Him for his pain. How is this possible, how do we, finite, limited creations console the infinite and all powerful G-d?
My friends, the answer to this question is Dov Ber ben Yisroel Tzvi. Barry Vine is the answer to this question. Human beings do have the ability to comfort G-d for His loss. When we behave like Barry, when we live like Barry, when we love others the way Barry loved others, when we give of ourselves and our earnings like Barry gave of himself and his earnings, we can bring comfort to G-d, we console G-d, yes the Temple may be destroyed, but behaving this way means there is hope for humanity, the people are worth it, a human being can transcend the mundane, the here and now, and live for something more than themselves and that is comforting for G-d.
Barry, the way you lived brought comfort to G-d, you brought comfort to your family, to your community and to the Jewish people as a whole. We are broken and hurting today, but somehow each of us here will try and carry on your tremendous legacy of love by being a source of comfort to the people around us.
Tomorrow you will celebrate your birthday in Heaven and on Shabbat at the heavenly minyan, where only the true Machers are counted, they will call you to the Torah for your 68th Bar Mitzvah anniversary, and from the heavenly bima you will read in your booming voice, Nachamu, Nachamu Ami, this time asking G-d to comfort your grieving family and friends that you’ve left behind here on this earth, because that’s how you will live in the next world, just as you lived in this one. And then you’ll go to the celestial kiddush and enjoy a divine bowtie kichel with extra sugar.
Goodbye my dear and beloved friend. Go in peace. We will miss you and never forget you.
