Bears and Kittens, Kittens and Bears

On behalf of the family let me extend our thanks to all those who came from near and far today to share this simcha. It has been a very difficult year and we are grateful to see you all. We are especially grateful that my sister Rochelle and brother in law Serge could share this day with us. We remember as well those who could not be here, Rachel’s Aunt Gnesha, my Aunt Shirley, Vered’s cousins in Israel, and many others. And speaking for myself, I express my thanks to Rachel, who made all this possible, and who makes everything possible.

Vered, you have spoken about some aspects of today’s parasha. But I want to talk briefly about one of the lesser known aspects, the question of genealogies, which appears at the end of the parasha. Genealogies are lists of people in the past, and sometimes they seem to interrupt the story the Torah is telling. But in a sense, they are the story. They are sometimes included in the Torah as a kind of commemoration of those who came before but more importantly as an explanation of the present, the journeys taken to get to the people and the world we have today.

So this is a story about Roses. Once, during the twentieth century, there were two women named Rose. One lived in Brooklyn, New York and the other in Long Branch, New Jersey, a distance of only about 20 miles as the crow flies, but about 50 if you’re not a crow and have to drive. With a little help these two Roses begat Zeyda and Saba, respectively. In time, Zeyda and Saba married Bubba and Safta who in turn begat Rachel and myself, respectively. And Rachel of course begat you and your brother, although not in that order.

I did not know my grandmother Rose, who died in 1949 and who is an enigmatic figure in our family. And I can’t say that I really knew your mother’s grandmother Rose, who died in 1993. Of course there is also Shifra, Bubba’s mother, the other part of your name, whom sadly I did not know either. Three very different women, who are a part of you, even though you didn’t know them. They are gone, we are still here.

But because they are about connections, genealogies are also stories of persistence. As you know Vered we have a family crest, which I drew on a napkin a while back. It consists of an open book flanked by a trowel and a martini glass, symbols of the balance between learning, work, and fun. Our family motto, which I also wrote on the napkin, is ‘We Go On.’ This probably sounds more impressive in Latin (‘nos vado in’ – I looked it up online) but it says something about both connection and about persistence. We have a connection to the past, to our family, to our tradition and beliefs, and we go on. There is no choice. The only question is how. This is the tricky part.

With dedication to the right, with daring and with caution, with modesty and with style, with patience and with determination, with a connection to the past and with your face turned firmly to the future, with all sorts of things that don’t necessarily go together, but which, just maybe, must go together. This is the only way to be who we want to be, and who we must be. Only this way can we go on and, as the late President Kennedy put it in his inaugural address, “pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and success of liberty” and, I would add, ourselves and all the things we are.

When you were little we called you the ‘I Can Do It’ girl because whenever we would try to help you, you would say, I can do it. I know you can. And when you need us, you mother and I, your brother, your grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousins, and everyone here, will help.

You’re the sweetest, kindest, smartest, funniest and most beautiful person I have ever known, you’re my everything girl. To quote the song, you are too marvelous for words. We love you Vered and we’re proud of you.