What Stands by Our Fathers and Us

If anyone thinks it’s only rosy in the largest Jewish community in America, they’re mistaken. Brooklyn is a beautiful place to live, but the prejudice still exists. Even in Flatbush and Boro Park, the district I represent, the deep-seated hatred can sometimes be frightening.

For not just one alone…but in every generation they rise against us to destroy us.

I recently received email from two constituents that brought these words to mind. Both included words I can’t repeat.

“The problem is the Jews,” explained one. “Stop having 7 kids per family and be normal like the rest of us!” wrote another. “You people have beaten the system too many times!”

You people.

These notes were brimming with vicious accusations and palpable hatred. It hurt just to read them.

One need not look to Iran or ISIS for threats against Jews, nor to the stabbings in Jerusalem. On February 11, we saw a Jew stabbed in Crown Heights for being a Jew. We have anti-Semitism right at CUNY where a yarmulke-wearing professor was called a “Zionist pig” at a faculty meeting and Jewish students are verbally harassed.

In every generation. But Vehi She’amda, La’avotainu Velanu. And this (Hashem’s blessings and the Torah) is what kept our fathers and us surviving.

One of the most beautiful aspects of Pesach is conducting ourselves the way our parents did at the seder. Everything from the way we set up our Ke’ara, attitudes toward gebrokts/non-gebrokts and kitniyot, and even how we hide (or find) the afikoman reflects what we saw at home.

In 1952, my father, Rabbi Zvi Mordechai Felder (z”tl) opened his shul on 18th Avenue. In those days, that area was like a suburb of Boro Park—most of the Jews only lived up to 16th. I don’t recall seeing any social service organizations nearby. My father and mother were the social services.

Before Pesach, people came to sell their chumatz, and it was customary to give a little money to the shul when the Rav performed this task. There wasn’t a fee—some people gave more, others less. Regardless of what anyone gave at any time of year, my father asked if they were sure that the donation wasn’t too much. But for my father, selling chumatz was a detailed process that afforded him an opportunity to learn about people. He was a very good listener and during the process he sometimes discovered issues and needs that a family was facing. And then, quietly if possible, he’d help them.

(Why no examples about my mother? My mother, ad meah v’esrim, [until 120] does not appreciate being talked about.)

Today, B”H, numerous organizations of every type have cropped up. As the needs grow, more organizations join them. I won’t list them. First, it would take more space than I’m allotted… And imagine if I left one out! Suffice it to say that these organizations are a genuine brocha.

But it’s more than a fleet of organizations, because there’s one thing that has not changed in my neighborhood—and in communities throughout the world—and that is the desire the help others, and, more, to do so without fanfare, as I witnessed as a child.

It was only last week—the same week those scurrilous, hateful emails arrived—that I received a call from someone whose neighbors were struggling financially. “Is there anything you can think of that I can do for this family?” the man asked. He wasn’t asking for my help—just a suggestion as to how he could help.

These things happen all the time. The fact is that while chesed organizations exist, there are many individuals throughout our community—men and women that no one knows about—who are regularly engaged in helping others. They just care.

In every generation they rise against us to destroy us; and the Holy One, blessed be He, saves us from their hand!

In every generation, Hashem comes through for us. And in every generation, our community comes through for each other. You people. Our people.

This time of year, the outpouring of chesed is more visible. Just look around. Pesach is a beautiful Yom Tov but even the basic necessities of the holiday cost a lot more than usual and families that typically struggle to get by are hit even harder—but there’s plenty of help, B”H.

Helping others. It’s a great tradition all people can be proud of.

Simcha Felder

This article originally appeared in THE JEWISH PRESS and is reprinted by permission.