By Rabbi Ben Kamin
OCEANSIDE, California — When my younger daughter Debra was born, I was present (as I had been for her sister Sari). I distinctly recall her emerging from her mother’s womb like a moonrise. Now, 33 years later, Debra has given birth to twin girls and the stars are all lined up in reflection. Leela Mor and Anora Aviv have emerged into the world from our ancestral family home, Israel, and I look up at a pleasant sky in the autumn of my life.
This Mother’s Day, my daughter is the mother and the moon is smiling. There are tears stuck in my eye lids and my mind drifts back to my departed parents—both children of the State of Israel who literally reached out to unwanted survivors of the European Holocaust two generations ago. My father swam out to the leaky refugee boats that eluded the British blockade and (with his colleagues), pulled the displaced persons to freedom’s shore under the milky Mediterranean moonlight. My mother was one of the teachers who taught them the Hebrew language.
My granddaughters, Leela and Anora, replace two of the innocents who never saw the light of day during the genocide that would have would turned our people into a rumor not so long ago. But I just want these two babies to feel that they are the beloved children of Debra and Yehuda—two American Jews who chose Israel in a better world that did not force them to flee there. My children and grandchildren are people who can choose—that’s the promise we all extracted from the ashes.
The arrival of Leela and Anora, in a shining medical Tel Aviv medical center, at the hands of a Hebrew-speaking medical team using cutting-edge technology, represents two more indicators that the Nazis did not win. These two pure little lives are stronger than all the brutality that has failed to shut down motherhood across this planet.
Beyond that, Leela and Anora bring meaning to my inner existence. I am 63 and well-acquainted (like anybody else) with the vicissitudes of life. I have buried both my parents, seen two marriages end, won and lost jobs, and I have certainly made my share of mistakes. I have become increasingly aware of my insignificance in a world moving past me at cyber-speeds and am thoroughly unimpressed with my paper bio. I actually know that it’s not about what I have; it’s what I feel.
Debra and Hudy, Leela and Anora, I find myself, sentimental and grateful, yet without any major proclamations. I don’t require any special recognition; life itself is my homeland. You sweet and first grandchildren of mine—I’m not concerned about what you call me and how you are raised are your parents’ purview, not mine.
I just want to make mention that you make all the crooked spaces straight for me; that you fill the holes in my heart put there by my own narrative; that you assure me that my life has not been lived for anything more important than to thank you for showing up.
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Rabbi Kamin is an author and freelance writer based in Oceanside, California. He may be contacted via ben.kamin@sdjewishworld.com Comments intended for publication in the space below MUST be accompanied by the letter writer’s first and last name and by his/ her city and state of residence (city and country for those outside the United States.)