I am asking Judy to share my few words with the congregation this morning and I thank you all for indulging me just for a couple of minutes.
You don’t know me but in one way or another I have been involved with Cantor Merel – I never, ever called him Shelly – for more than 60 years. I grew up at Holy Blossom Temple where he was the cantor, as you know and whenever I went to services, especially on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, his voice was always magnificent. I am not telling you anything you don’t know. But I want to share a story that no one else knows, except Judy.
When I was just a month or so away from my Bar Mitzvah, I had just come back from Union Camp Institute, now called the Goldman Union Camp Institute in Zionsville, Indiana. I was supposed to practice my bar mitzvah portion and blessings and so forth at camp. Needless to say, I, like every other post summer camp bar or bat mitzvah student conveniently forgot either to bring the material to camp, lost it on a hike, had it eaten by a bear or was simply missing. I know this because I hear these reasons to this very day and laugh inside.
In any event, I was supposed to read my stuff to Cantor Merel and I walked into his enormous office on the second floor of Holy B. It was intimidating and, as I remember it, Cantor Merel was there behind his desk ready to listen. I sat down ready to read and then, just like that, I started crying because I wasn’t prepared at all. In some places and in some times, the teacher would get angry, disappointed, and reprimand the student for negligence. But Cantor Merel knew something that it often takes other teachers decades to learn: children don’t respond to effectively to threats or intimidation. They respond to understanding and patience. So what did Cantor Merel do? He said something like this….’It sounds like you had a great time at camp. And now the new year is coming up and yours is the last bar mitzvah before Rosh Hashanah for the temple. Will you help us honor the last Shabbat before the new year? Your bar mitzvah will do that for us.’ Wow! No longer was this a bar mitzvah…it was a leadership role in some fashion as he framed it. And yes, I was amazing at my bar mitzvah!
In those years, as well, I had become close friends with Judy and it is a friendship that exists to this day. We would always meet at either her house or the York Mills subways station and end up at her house either before or after the Pickle Barrel, downtown Dixieland jazz or a movie. But no matter what, Cantor Merel was always at home and was always warm and friendly and never, ever haughty or condescending. I was comforted when he officiated at the funeral for my grandmother and, in some ways, he was the most visible Jewish professional in my life. At Holy Blossom, few knew our names (although mine was well-known since I got expelled from Hebrew school in Grade 5. But that is another story!). But Cantor Merel knew my name from the start. It sounds silly that really made a difference in a large synagogue where few really know who you are.
You all have Cantor Merel stories and I know you will say them and sing them. He was for those of us who grew up at Holy B the real end of the era. Rabbi Plaut, Heinz Warshauer, Ethel Raicus, Maurice Eisendrath and now Cantor Merel are now part of our history and live only in memory. And now, you too feel the same absence and sense of loss. For more than 25 years, the San Diego Jewish community and secular community was blessed to have had Cantor Merel and his gifts. I know he will be remembered fondly and I know that one lasting memory I have of him will be on the bima in his black robe singing his heart to God and taking us all with him.
Rest well, Cantor Merel. Your voice is silenced but your song will live in us forever.
L’shalom
Rabb Cy Stanway
