reflections
petite essays
Each month, we ask community members to weigh in on a single topic. This month: Freedom.
To participate, contact Keri Guten Cohen at kcohen@renmedia.us and put “essay” in the subject line. Enjoy! •
SUSAN
KNOPPOW
ALICIA
CHANDLER
RACHEL
KAPEN
EDITH
MANIKER
ERIC
ADELMAN
I begin quietly with a nig-
gun, a wordless melody that
draws people toward our
patchwork Shabbat table,
which, tonight, stretches the
length of the house. Shabbat
in the Woods grew out of a
conversation between my
husband and Rabbi Bob
Gamer. What if we organized
an occasional, casual Friday
night get together here in
Huntington Woods? Just
davening and dinner, not
sponsored by a synagogue
— a chance to connect and
unwind among neighbors
and friends.
After three years, it’s devel-
oped into a sort of Shabbos
pop-up, open to anyone
who wants to attend. I am
free here, a member of a
mish-mash community that
reconfigures itself every time
we meet. During Shabbat in
the Woods, we are just Jews,
without labels or ideological
constraints; Jews who bring
lasagnas and brownies and
lentil soup for the potluck.
When it’s my family’s turn
to host, we push the living
room furniture against the
walls, make space for coats
in my office and clear the
kitchen counters. And then
we welcome Shabbat togeth-
er, one melody at a time.
Around Passover two years
ago, my friend Mohammad
escaped from the port
of Aden in Yemen. Days
before, he had said good-
bye to his friends, certain
he was going to lose his life
amid the chaos and bomb-
ings that had gripped the
city.
Weeks later, through
the help of several
determined Americans,
Mohammed was in the
United States when I met
him at the American Jewish
Committee’s Global Forum.
I was struck by his sweet-
ness and caring. Despite
all Mohammed had been
through, he remains one
of the kindest souls I have
ever met.
This Passover, as I cel-
ebrate our freedom from
Egyptian slavery, I will
think of Mohammed and
remember that the Exodus
is not just a part of history.
The Exodus — human-
ity’s fight for freedom —
endures.
Just as Moses had to part
the Red Sea millennia ago,
Mohammad had to cross
the Red Sea from Yemen to
Djibouti in search of free-
dom. God parted the sea
for us, now what can we
do to part the sea for those
still seeking freedom?
In U.N. annals, it is known
as Resolution 181, one of
thousands of resolutions;
however, for the Jewish
Yishuv (settlement) in
Eretz Israel or Palestine,
the U.N. vote to be taken
Nov. 29, 1947, called the
Partition Resolution —
meant to divide Palestine
into a Jewish and Arab
states — this was do or
die. It was going to deter-
mine whether there would
be a Jewish state or not.
Well, as we know, the
vote was in our favor. I’ll
never forget the uproar
from those gathered in
our small southern Tel
Aviv apartment as well as
my father telling me that
we have a state, a fact I
didn’t fully understand
then. However, as time
passed, I understood it
more and more.
Seeing all our Jewish
brethren who came to
Israel once the British
left, I often wonder how
many precious souls could
have been saved if inde-
pendence had come a bit
earlier.
For many of the post-
1948 generations, the exis-
tence of the State of Israel
is taken for granted. Not
for me. I see it in a very
personal way.
I think freedom is having
the ability to think and
being able to say things
without being scared or
embarrassed.
I was 8 years old when
I went to England on the
Kindertransport. In my
eight years there, I never
told my schoolmates about
my background. Children
can be very cruel to each
other. Their fathers, broth-
ers, uncles and cousins
were busy fighting the
Germans. They would not
understand the difference
between being German and
being Jewish and born in
Germany.
I am a docent at the
Holocaust Memorial Center.
I was told to start talking
about the Kindertransport
because most people did
not know about it. (The
Kindertransport saved
the lives of nearly 10, 000
mostly Jewish children
from Germany, Austria,
Czechoslovakia and Poland
by sending them to Britain
during WWII.)
What is freedom? It is
being able to talk about
things without being afraid
and having the confidence
that you would not be
judged for something you
had no control over. That is
freedom.
“’Tis Responsibility which
grants Freedom’s existence.”
Two stories explain:
Sixteen years old …
eastbound 696 … 65, 80, 95
miles per hour. The turn is
approaching. Pedal to the
metal. I hit 100 and ease off
the gas with a smile. A car, a
license, no parents, an empty
stretch of highway — 100
mph! Freedom!
A few weeks later …
eastbound 696 … driving (a
reasonable?) 85 mph. Exit at
Southfield, check the rear-
view and … flashing lights.
“Son, you know how fast …?”
Drop the ticket and keys on
the dining room table, asking
my parents, “What’s my pun-
ishment?”
I learned that real freedom
doesn’t mean total freedom.
The Jews created the Golden
Calf. Americans get to vote.
I can be Mario Andretti.
Each of those freely chosen
actions has consequences
for which we are responsible.
My ticket (and Judge Mom
and Dad’s decree that my
license belonged to them
until further notice) made
me appreciate this fact. They
are — and must be — relat-
ed. This Pesach, I pray we are
responsible for and to the
freedoms we are granted.
Alicia of Birmingham is
general counsel for continuing
care for Trinity Health, vice
president of JCRC|AJC and
a member of Sisterhood of
Salaam Shalom.
Rachel of West Bloomfield
has served in the IDF.
She is a frequent guest
columnist for the Oakland
Press and writes Yiddish
limericks for the JN.
Edith of Southfield is a
docent and speaker at
the Holocaust Memorial
Center. She and five cousins
escaped Leipzig, Germany,
on the Kindertransport.
Susan is CEO of Wow Writing
Workshop, a strategic commu-
nications and writing services
company. She is also a poet
and blogger, and loves teach-
ing students, professionals
and others to write (especially
when they insist they can’t).
4
April 6 • 2017
jn
Eric of Farmington Hills is
executive director of Kadima,
a provider of services for peo-
ple with mental health chal-
lenges. Eric loves spending
time with his wife, Karen, and
two daughters, ages 10 and 5.
He now drives the speed limit
on 696 (more or less).