A time to mourn: Dr Robert Levene

Mt Carmel Cemetery in KC

Last weekend I flew to Kansas City. I was in town a total of 17 hours. Then back to the airport and on to Nashville. Most of the people who attended the funeral of our friend (or for some, a family member) lived nearby and they could attend not only to the chapel and gravesite services, but also to Shiva held later that afternoon. I had to head back before the Shiva gathering.  

They say, "funerals are for the living, not for the dead." They may be right. The reason we gathered at Mt Carmel was to farewell Dr Robert Levene. For some it was cathartic; for others appropriate and polite; for me, it was very personal. Bob and his family had moved to our neighbourhood when we were about 10, and he and I became fast friends. We were both November babies, and thus usually among the youngest in our classes. He was 10 days my junior.  Early on we played together, sometimes with others from the school or the synagogue to which we both were regular in attendance. He and I were very often playing singles tennis until the middle of junior high school. We were in the same class in Hebrew school and graduated there in 1966. We rode bikes together. I remember a time Bob was over at my house and my parents were gone somewhere. My sister was 'in charge' and for whatever reason she determined it necessary, she chased him out of the house with a broom. Needless to say, Bob didn't return very soon after that.

Hebrew school graduation

We played chess and had tournaments at his house or ours. Other Jewish boys from the neighbourhood joined us. We loved science and had a chemistry club in at least my garage, maybe in his, I don't remember. Nowadays we would have video evidence from our TikTok and YouTube channels, but back then, nope. All we had and have is our memories.

Maybe that's why we attend funerals. To recapture the lost memories. To remember. To remind ourselves we were not always 73 yearss old. Of course, memories are often seen through glasses that are rose-coloured. Especially as times increase between them and us from hours to days to decades. So one person tells a story, and without a challenge, those stories will now remain true for all time. And as each person passes out of our spheres, less corroboration is possible. Oh for a journalist among us who would keep the truths and keep them accurately. 

Dr Bob as he came to be known was a searcher, an inquisitive, a man of 20,000 books in his library, which no doubt will be dismantled. He ended his life with some significant satisfaction. In the final week, he got to see his grandchildren who are both pre-school aged. What a treasure that is to Bob's two sons and it was to him as well, I'm sure. 

We argued about so many things, and in his most lucid moments over the last five years, those arguments were healthy and cordial, loving and respectful, as all debates ought to be between friends. He wondered about eternity and his final resting place. He listened as I explained my views on God, on Jesus, on resurrection and eternity. I bought him a Bible and had his name engraved on the front. Another time I brought him a couple of DVDs from the tv series "The Chosen" and according to his attendants, he really enjoyed watching those. 

We stopped playing tennis back in school days, and Hebrew and chemistry gave way to other pursuits, but friendship knows no bounds and no insurmountable obstacles. In the last 18 months I've lost some men in KC with whom I walked in my youth, like Dave Rabinowitz and Danny Kass, like Hyman Seifer and now Levene. 

When I return to visit my sister and some local KC family and friends, a piece of my life will be missing. I'm a better man for knowing Dr Bob. Maybe he was better for knowing me, but that's not for me to know or at this point, even to consider. 

Today, what am I going to do to make the world in which I live a better place? Tennis has given way to pickleball. Chemistry has given way to other academic interests, especially history. Synagogue continues and has widen to messianic interests and the Gospel Truth has replaced true-enough thinking. 

Each day I age, but only one day at a time. Our lives in Prairie Village gave way to St Joseph for him and New York City, Chicago, San Francisco, Washington, DC, and Sydney Australia for me. But home is where the heart is, and our hearts were ever together then, and he remains in mine to this day. Funerals are for the living. 

On death and dying

John Donne's famous poem splashed across my thoughts all day today. My long-time friend Dennis Krause passed away yesterday and I read about it this morning. He was unwell but lived life fully. In his youth, he was a member of a couple rock and roll bands, most notable to me, the Hallelujah Joy Band. What a champion he was, staying at the same church he joined back in the mid-70s, serving in music, on the sound desk, and just about anywhere he was needed. His wife, the lovely Anne, is now a widow, way too soon. So which Donne poem? The 10th Holy Sonnet, "Death, be not proud." I quote it in full then add my comments below.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Maybe it's that I'm ageing at some new speed, but it seems that more people I know are dying. Last weekend in Kansas City, a group of friends from Shawnee Mission East High School class of 1969 remembered John Rooker, our former Senior Class President or Student Council president or such. Three men's memories stood out-- those given by Rick Daniels, Rick McNeely and his own brother Tom Rooker. Memories of days gone by. We come and go almost too quickly it seems.

Here in Australia a 7-year old boy is being remembered. He died in a horrible manner last Thursday in Barcelona, Spain. He and his mother were walking along Las Ramblas Boulevard, and according to Reuters today, "Julian Cadman was among the 13 people killed when a van driven by a suspected Islamist militant mowed down pedestrians in Barcelona... The boy was separated from his mother who was taken to hospital in a serious condition. Authorities in Australia and Britain had flagged he was missing since Thursday."

I don't know that anyone in Australia knows any other names of the 14 dead in Spain. There's something wrong, or just feels wrong, about the loss of a child. An innocent. Why did the Islamic terrorist feel that killing that boy was right? Why do we feel so badly about Julian Cadman being killed?

Maybe you remember the movie with Liam Neeson, Schindler's List from 1993, the Oscar-winning movie set during the Holocaust, where 6 million Jews and countless others were killed by madmen in uniforms. The scene highlighted in this still photo

makes the killing of millions personal. The girl in the red coat is one of unnamed thousands in the ghetto, gathered, escaping, hiding, caught. For some reason, when she is noted, we continue to watch for her, to care for her, to wonder what will happen to her. And isn't that what love does?

And maybe it's love, or a desire for love, that makes us so upset at the death of Julian Cadman. And the 13 others. It's one thing to note that 6,775 per day die in the US. But I only noticed two this weekend. Jerry Lewis, because the media made great mention of him here, and my friend Dennis. It's when death gets too close that we note it. But death is not the end. So said John Donne. There is eternity, and there is hope. "Death shall be no more." he said, "Death, thou shalt die"

Hosea, the Jewish prophet, wrote this, which no doubt influenced Donne. "Shall I ransom them from the power of Sheol? Shall I redeem them from death? O Death, where are your thorns? O Sheol, where is your sting?" (Chapter 13, verse 14)

Paul the apostle picked up this notion and filled it full with his remarks recorded in 1 Corinthians chapter 15: "When this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, “Death is swallowed up in victory. “O death, where is your victory? O death, Where is your sting?”
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." (verses 54-57)

Donne and Paul and Dennis and I all have the same unwavering hope that those who put their faith in the Son of God, the Jewish Messiah Yeshua (many call him Jesus), will eventually join with the myriads in the company of heaven. It's heaven which is our eternal home, not Barcelona or Sydney or Warsaw. The grave is not our eternal resting spot. Finally John the Revelator wrote this in summary of the end of history as we know it. "And the sea gave up the dead which were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead which were in them; and they were judged, every one of them according to their deeds. then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire." (Revelation 20.13-14) "Death, be not proud." We shall live again. And "death, thou shalt die."

Reunions and Rosh Hashanah: Appointments

I had never attended a reunion of my high school until the 40th which took place in 2009. Many people seemed to know each other; I'd been gone so long. Would anyone remember me? Of course, I'm a fairly social creature, evidenced in continual internet blogs and photo journal on Flickr and Facebook, twitter and such. But those are merely evidence of who I am in person as well. I rather enjoy being with people and meeting new folks and keeping up with former friends.

So it seemed natural to want to gather with the people from 40 years ago. I was not disappointed. And the great thing about being so many decades away from high school was that most of the memories from then were foggy at best. That means that people didn't remember what they wrote about me in my yearbook, or that they didn't even remember if we took a class together at all. Excellent! As a result of attending, I found some 'new' friendships or renewed ones, and have kept those going for the last five years.

Then when our 45th was announced a year or so ago, I was happy to go along, even though it's 9,000 miles away. Many said, "You win the prize for coming the furthest.' That's always a nice feature of living in Australia. But when I queried, "What is the prize?" no one seemed to have anything in mind. Maybe on the 50th, I'll ask for one to be made. Watch, that year, someone will come from further.

So what is it about reunions that either make people want to attend or to have no interest? What is it about remembering or reuning or ... that makes us withdraw or convene? This is a sociological question to be sure. And that's the point of this blog. I really would like some answers. And maybe you have been pondering that one as well.

Of course, personality types pop up immediately into the conversation. ESFP (The performer)or ESTP (The dynamo) ENFP (the champion) INFJ (the counselor) come to mind. And there are others, too.

One of my favorite personality descriptions is not from Myers-Briggs (as above), but by Gary Smalley and John Trent, both psychologists in the US. They wrote about this back in the early 1990s in their book The Blessing. Here's a quick overview Blessing   I can see each person at the reunions.The otter (backslapper) and the golden retriever (who sits with one or two people all night) carry on differently, but they carry on and attend. What is it that prevents some people from attending?

I spoke with two of my mates in KC, both of whom are very personable and affable. Neither has any interest in joining in. One said, "I've lived in KC the whole time since we left school, and I have no relationship with any of those people. Maybe if X came or Y came, I would go, but really no one there would know me." I told him that's a great advantage. They won't remember what they don't or didn't like about you, but he didn't hear that. The other man said he would try to attend, but didn't make it. It certainly was not on his priority list. Both of these men are single. Both have had relationships in the past, but are alone now.

 I'm hoping to get a big response from people on this one. 

What causes you to want to attend? What causes you to want to stay away? What do you think about those who do?

I'm writing this blog on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. Surprisingly, it's never called that in the Bible. In Torah, the 5th of 7 Jewish appointments with the Almighty is entitled, "Day of Blowing of shofars." In Hebrew Yom Teruah. By custom and convention it has taken on different meanings than what was defined in the book of Leviticus. The new year is actually supposed to be in Northern springtime, just before Passover. Most people call these Jewish 'festivals' or 'feasts.' And many of the holidays certainly fit that category. But Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) doesn't seem festive at all. The biblical term is 'mo'ed' and really means 'appointment.' It's a time of reunion with the Lord and with His people. It's an expectation from the mandate in Scripture for us to convene. Not that we are to convene with each other, but to gather to Him.

Most imagine that to mean 'attend synagogue' but it doesn't always imply that. The issue though for me is that whatever it is that draws some people to attend reunions probably also draws some people to synagogue (or church for that matter).

Someone should write a survey, and maybe I'll do that, but I'm hoping that many of my old classmates will weigh in on this and their answers will help us write a survey which might actually help us draw even more people to our 50th. We only have 5 years to plan that one. What do you think? Why did you go? Why would you never go? What is it about reunions which are compelling or offputting? Can you sort it out just now for us? Will you? Thanks!