Harry William Fuchs

Twelve years ago today, our son Ben and I were playing tennis when Vickie walked up to the courts.  We knew something had to be very wrong if she showed up in the middle of our game.  We were dumbstruck when she told us my beloved first cousin Harry had a sudden heart attack and died.

Our family was in shock!  

Harry was vibrant, alive, to all appearances healthy, and then in an incomprehensible instant he was gone!  Our hearts and our minds reeled in disbelief. My cousin Harry was kind, easy going and had the most wonderful smile and infectious laugh of anyone I have ever known.

It is no surprise to me that family and friends gathered from London, California and many places in between to bid him farewell and pay him tribute.  

One of the most remarkable things about Harry is that he was still friends with almost all of the people with whom he went to grammar school, high school and college.  It is remarkable the way he stayed so closely connected with so many different people.

If we could choose a motto for Harry Fuchs, we could do no better than the words, “Life is Good.”  Indeed, life was good for Harry, and Harry was good to life.  He lived each day to the fullest.  He managed to fit exercise, reading, cooking, work, parenting, and often much more into each day and still get to bed at a reasonable hour.  He was intellectually, curious, he had a wonderful sense of humor, and he was – and now will be – forever young.

Harry William Fuchs never aged.  At 53, he looked like he looked in college—maybe even better.   I guess Harry was never meant to grow old.  He left life in its prime.  He was never sick, he never had to depend on anyone, and he never gave anyone reason to pity or feel sorry for him.

It was always easy to remember Harry’s birthday.  He was born on 5/5/55 in Manhattan, but he lived most of his life in Great Neck.  I loved my Uncle Ali and my Aunt Mimi dearly, but they had Harry rather late in life.  That reality did not make life easy for a child of the 60’s and 70’s born to European parents who both grew up with great wealth but came to this country with nothing.  They deeply loved Harry, but Ali was often away on business, and Mimi always had a hard time saying, “No,” to the apple of her eye.

After high school Harry went off to Wyndham College, but after that institution folded, he completed his studies at the University of Vermont.  In his youth he sometimes tried to hide it, but Harry was a very deep thinker with a fine, curious mind who majored in chemistry.  The last thing on his mind was to enter the fur business with his father, but Ali was persistent, and the fur business at that time offered a much more comfortable lifestyle than that of an unemployed research chemist.

I am sure there were some clashes in those early days between strait-laced nose-to-the-grindstone Ali and his “when does the party start” son.  But things changed dramatically after Harry cut his hair and became seriously successful in the fur trade.  

I still can hear the pride and love in Ali’s voice – and such gushing praise did not come naturally to Ali – when he spoke to me about Harry.

As years went by their relationship changed.  At the end it was Harry who was looking after and taking care of Ali. Lovingly he drove his father to and from work every day, and in so doing allowed Ali to cling to his life in the fur trade that he loved so much.   It was a heroic chapter in the life of Harry William Fuchs which he very seldom talked about.

My cousin Harry always loved kids, and they loved him.  My now grown children – who flew across the country to attend Harry’s funeral – remember vividly his and their joy when he carried them on his shoulders years ago when we all visited the Statue of Liberty. 

Along his all too short life’s journey Harry Fuchs was blessed with several positive influences.  

Linda Canina was Harry’s first lasting love.  They lived together for ten years.  They were different in so many ways, but she made his spirits soar and inspired him with her intellectual brilliance and love for life.  She seemed to awaken in Harry his deep and eclectic love for learning.  He read widely and avidly—on politics, sports, fashion, Israel and the Middle East.  He was interested in everything.

And then there was Bonnie! I’ll never forget the first time I spoke to Harry after he had met Bonnie on a ski trip.  It was like his whole world had changed and his whole demeanor was somehow different.  They had much in common and shared a deep and special love.  Although their marriage ended in divorce, their mutual respect and affection abide.   To their great credit, each has worked hard and made many compromises to make things as easy as possible for Casey.

When Harry met Randi, she brought a whole new dimension to his life. She gave him a newfound sense of stability and calm.  She is so down to earth and comfortable with herself that Harry became more grounded through her love.  He still loved to live well, and he did, but he no longer needed to jet around the world.  Rather he could find his pleasures in life with Randi, the music on his ipod, the beach, his bike, and a beautiful sunset. 

And then of course, there is Casey!

When Casey came into his life, Harry became a different person.  In his own words Harry said: “I really learned to love after I became a father.”

 In Casey, Harry’s life came full circle. Harry adored Casey, and I know that love will NEVER die. 

As Casey told me, “No matter what I did, he was always interested.  The most important thing for him to know was, ‘How was your day?’”

When Casey was in the hospital, Harry slept there.  He was there when she went to sleep, and he was there when she woke up.

Twelve years later, it is still hard to believe that he is gone. Yet, when we close our eyes and think of him, we shall see his smile, we’ll hear his laugh, and his memory will remain a blessing in our lives . . . always.

Psalm 23: A Personal Reflection

With gratitude to Rabbi Andi Fliegel

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.

He restoreth my soul.  

He guideth me in straight paths for His name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.

For thou art with me.

Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.

Though preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

Thou hast anointed my head with oil.

My cup runneth over

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.

And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Except, perhaps, for the Shma the twenty-third Psalm was the first prayer I ever learned. 

Throughout my public school years (grades 1-8 at Ashland School, East Orange, NJ) each morning began with a Psalm read by one of us students.

The Twenty-third Psalm was by far the most popular selection although some readers chose number 117 because it was the shortest of all the 150 Psalms in the book.

Without even realizing it, I memorized the words in the King James translation that we read in school.

As a rabbi, I invoked Psalm 23 at many funerals pointing out that, “Few words have brought more comfort to more people than these thoughts attributed to King David as he sat among the Judean hills some 3000 years ago.” For that reason I also include Psalm 23 as part of the Yizkor ritual on Yom Kippur.

Yes, I employed these verses frequently, but the Psalm only attached itself to my heart in the anxiety I felt leading up to and following my aortic valve replacement in 1996.

I had recently read The Relaxation Response by Dr. Herbert Benson, which offers a simple four-step guide to meditative relaxation:

  • A quiet atmosphere
  • A comfortable position
  • A mental device
  • A passive attitude

Dr. Benson’s formula would get me through open-heart surgery both in 1996 and 2012.  It would also sustain me during a life-threatening strep infection that centered in my left hip in 2016 and following my painful rotary cuff repair in 2018.

For my “go to” mental device I decided to memorize the twenty-third Psalm, so familiar to me in King James English, in the original Hebrew.

And now, as the Days of Awe approach in this unprecedented time of Covid-19 I find ever-greater meaning in these words although some of them are counter intuitive.

Vickie and I have walked though the sheep fields outside of Husum, Germany, where sheep seem to outnumber people, near the North Sea.

What my eyes and nose beheld made it abundantly clear to me that lying down in those green pastures was the last thing I would want to do.

And yet as is the case with biblical narratives, we must escape the literal to embrace the exquisite metaphor the Psalm offers us.

The idea that God takes care of our needs and offers comfort in times of trouble has great appeal. I marvel that through all the horrors history has imposed on our people, the idea still resonates. 

That even after the Shoah we can recite and on some level believe those words is a miracle to me. And yet, we can and we do.

Instead of blaming the Eternal One for society’s ills, we turn to God for comfort and the strength to bear what seems unbearable. 

Certainly for me, when my pain and fear are very great, the Psalm reminds me, “My cup runneth over,” and I count my many blessings.

.The Prophet Zechariah (9:12), active in a time of calamitous upheaval, calls the Jewish people “Prisoners of Hope.” For me the 23rd Psalm is the embodiment of that idea. 

“Yea though I walk thought the valley of the shadow of death,” I trust in God’s presence and God’s protective care.

At the same time I express the hope that “I shall dwell in the ”House of the Lord forever.”

According to biblical and subsequent Jewish thought, “dwelling in God’s House” is a privilege we should seek to earn, not a right to which we are born. As Professor Robert Alter points out in his commentary on Psalms (Alter, The Book of Psalms: A Translation and Commentary, W.W. Norton & Company Inc., 2007, Kindle loc. 2234), “ . . . the privilege of enjoying God’s presence in the Jerusalem sanctuary is a consequence of having followed the ways that God dictates to humanity.”

At this sacred season of the year we acknowledge that we often fail to meet God’s expectations of us and our expectations of ourselves. 

One of my favorite stories tells of a Monarch’s son who was estranged from his father. He journeyed far away from his home.  The father, longing for his son, “sent a message, “Return to your father.”

The son replied, “I cannot. The distance is too great.”

Replied the father, “Come as far as you are able, and I will come the rest of the way to you. (Pesikta Rabati, Shuva Yisrael)

Especially during times of pain and fear, Psalm 23 has been my mantra.

 Even in the face of death, God will comfort me; God will restore my soul.

For my part, though, I must strive to be worthy of God’s favor. I must do my utmost to fulfill my covenantal responsibilities as God articulated them to Abraham:

Be a Blessing. (Genesis 12:2)

Follow God’s teachings. (Genesis 17:1)

Bring justice and righteousness into the world. (Genesis 18:19) 

But when I fall short – as I often do — of fulfilling those sacred obligations, I trust, God will meet me halfway, and, “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.”

These Days of Awe are Different; But Their Message is the Same

In less than two weeks, the New Year and the Days of Awe arrive.

For most of us, the coming Days of Awe will be so very different from any we have known. If anything, the looming specter of Covid-19 only heighten their significance

The Days of Awe bid us to strip away the veneer of our righteousness and act “as if” God is examining our conduct. These days urge us to examine who we have been with an eye toward who we want to be. Humbly, we acknowledge our shortcomings and resolve to improve in the year ahead.

Behold, it is the Day of Judgment. 

As a shepherd musters his sheep, causing them to pass under his staff, so do You cause every living soul to pass before You . . .

On Rosh Hashanah it is written

On Yom Kippur it is sealed

How many shall be born

Who shall live and who shall die

Who shall complete his years . . . 

And who shall not complete his years

Who shall be serene and who shall be disturbed

Who shall be at ease and who shall be afflicted

Who shall be poor and who shall be rich . . .

But repentance, prayer, and deeds of kindness and compassion avert the severity of the decree!

The excerpt above from the Unetaneh Tokef prayer, written by Kalonymous ben Meshullam in the eleventh century, starkly expresses the High Holy Day mood of impending judgment. 

It scares people. Some recoil from it. This year life seems more fragile than ever, but does the prayer mean to teach that those who die perish because they were deficient in character? Of course not!

This magnificent, though troubling, liturgical piece asks us to act “as if” our fate is in the balance. It urges us to turn away from pettiness and greed and to fill our days with as many acts of kindness as possible. If we do, two things will happen. We will become better people, and the world will become a better place.

 “Repentance prayer and deeds of kindness,” may not lengthen our days, but they will surely increase their value.

The Hebrew word for “sin,” חטא, (chet) connotes an action that we regret, but which is within our power to correct. The Days of Awe provide us with a special opportunity—although certainly we should try to be aware of the impact of our actions all the time—to ponder, reconsider, and adjust our behavior in a positive direction.

Yes, this year is so different. But the message of the Days of Awe is timeless. In one famous Midrash, the rabbis liken God to a parent whose son traveled a distance of 100 days from home.  His friends advise him to return to his parents.  He answered, “I cannot; I do not have the strength.”

His father sent him a message saying: ”Come as far as you are able, and I will come the rest of the way to you.”  (Pesikta, Rabati, Shuvah Yisrael)

Atonement during the Days of Awe is neither an act of God’s grace nor the result of humanity’s unilateral struggle.  It is rather the wonderful product of a Covenantal partnership, which allows the one who takes the process seriously to enter the New Year feeling cleansed and renewed.

This year our lives feel so cast adrift. More than ever we need the Days of Awe to help us find our way home. I truly believe if we make the effort to begin the journey, the Eternal One will lead us the rest of the way.

As Rosh Hashanah Nears

Traditionally, the last month of any Jewish year, the month of Elul, is a month devoted to profound soul searching. Why?

Between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we answer to God for our actions in the year passed.

The Days of Awe (the entire period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur) are not a time for superficial repentance and flippant confessions. They comprise a sacred season based on an exquisite metaphor that God will call us to account for our wrongdoings 

Such a trial is not one to enter into without preparation.

Any criminal defense attorney will tell you that she or he does not walk into a courtroom to represent a person accused of serious wrongdoings without intense preparation.

If we are honest  — and if ever a time in the Jewish year demands honesty of us it is the season of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur – we have all done many things we wish we had not. 

Throughout the rest of the year, we deflect blame.  We instinctively and reflexively defend ourselves and think of all the reasons why we consider ourselves innocent of wrongdoing.  All through the year we present ourselves to others in the best possible light.

But during the Days of Awe we imagine –and more importantly we act – as if God sees through all artifice and pretense.

Some readers may wonder, “Why does he use the word  ‘metaphor’ and the phrases ‘we imagine’ and ‘as if’?” The answer is: it is far beyond my ability to state with perfect faith what God does and does not do or how God may or may not act.

But it is not beyond my ability to perceive how God wants US to act or to understand that God wants us to treat one another with dignity and respect. It is not beyond my ability to know that our Torah and subsequent Jewish tradition teach that the Eternal One wants us to do all in our power to create a more just, caring and compassionate society on earth.

And so, we prepare carefully for the trial we are to undergo. But unlike an ordinary criminal trial our guilt is clear beyond doubt to the Judge of Judges. That Judge, though, is not a stern impartial magistrate. The Eternal Judge is also a loving parent to us. Yes, God is a parent who urges us to repent and to pray for forgiveness, and God is very eager to forgive and embrace us with love.

And so as the month of Elul unfolds, we constantly review the evidence against us and regret where we have gone astray. In that way we will be ready to wholeheartedly confess what we have done wrong during the Days of Awe. 

If our efforts are sincere, our tradition asserts, God’s desire to be merciful overcomes God’s desire for strict justice so that we may enter the year of 5781 with joy, feeling cleansed and renewed.