In the book of Shemuel (I. 25:29) Nabal’s wife Abigail gave King David a blessing that his soul should always be “bound with the souls of the living”. Rabbi Ezra Labaton’s soul was always bound with those of the living – with his family, his students, his congregants, his community, his people, and the entire world.
His soul is bound with my soul.
I first met Rabbi Labaton in the fall of 1982. I was 19 years old, and was just back from my year in Israel. We instantly became friends. He had such an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and passion for teaching. He would say “I could have been a good lawyer… But this is what I love to do…” I was overwhelmed by that.
When he gave his classes, he was in heaven. He would perspire even with full-blown air-conditioning and short sleeve shirts. How? You see, the rabbi was so passionate about his topics—his whole body would get into it with his mind and his voice… so he would perspire from excitement! Rabbi Labaton didn’t just love HaRambam, it seemed to me that he was actually IN LOVE with him.
But it was his compassion, his loving-kindness, his constant support and continuous encouragement that touched me the most.
He was always so supportive. He would always ask me what I was learning, what I was writing, what I was thinking about. We would spend hours together on Friday mornings talking all about ME and my life – my marriage, my kids, my business, my classes, the books I was writing. He would give me books to borrow, books he would recommend I read, sources for ideas I was talking about. He would proudly show me his immense library with his 10,000 books and no matter how many times I volunteered to organize it for him – he would always decline and claim he loved it that way because he knew where every book was, every article, every pamphlet.
In 2002, during the Intifada, when a terrorist attack was hitting Israel every single day, and Israel was at war with Hamas – I heard that reservists in Israel were being called away from their families to fight. So I organized a trip to Israel for businessmen to volunteer in the Israeli Army. I called him to ask him if he would announce the trip in the Synagogue and see if anyone would want to join us. “Are you kidding? I want to come!” He was my first recruit and he was arguably the most cooperative, most dedicated soldier in the bunch.
Whatever troubles and tests I faced in life, I knew I could call the Rabbi and I would be overwhelmed by his generosity of spirit, his emphatic optimism: “How are you doing Rabbi?” “Incredibly well!”. He had an invincible spirit that was infectious and just being in his presence would encourage me and support me and give me strength.
A few years ago, Ricky Rudy and I donated a plaque that was put up right outside the Rabbi’s office. When the synagogue underwent renovations, they had to take the plaque down.
He must have sensed that I felt bad about that. Of course, he called me to tell me “Jack, even though they took the plaque down, I have it in my office and I look at it every single day. Thank You!”
That call meant so much to me. Not only did I feel better, but as usual, the Rabbi modeled his ideals and his lessons: he embodied “sedek sedek tirdof” – you shall always pursue justice and righteousness. He embodied compassion and love and sensitivity and connection to others. He was truly ‘serurah b’srour hahayim’. His soul was always bound to other people’s souls.
Yet I’m sure I am not alone in the feeling that no matter how much I admired him, he always gave me the feeling that he admired ME more! No matter how much I loved him, he made me feel that he loved me even more.
In November of 2011, my father passed away. The week I was sitting Shiva the Rabbi was undergoing chemotherapy treatments. He finished his chemo on Friday and I got up from my shiva on Sunday morning. I went to the cemetery, came home and had the most beautiful surprise: a day and a half after doing chemo, the Rabbi managed to get a lift from Deal, and take the hour+ trip with Raymond Saka to come visit me. We sat in my den without any distractions and it was such a fulfilling visit – I got such nehamah, such comfort and consolation. I didn’t know how to thank him. I was at a loss for words.
About five years ago the Rabbi told me that he was running 5 miles a day so he can detox his system after his chemo treatments. I asked him how he had the strength to do that? Where did he find the energy? He said he had a secret: Our friend Sammy Sutton bought him a whole box of seasons of the show “24” and he would watch the episodes as he ran on the treadmill.
I had never heard of “24”, but I thought that was a great idea. So, when I started to have problems in work, I bought the series and I would get on either the treadmill or the stationary bike while I watched episodes of “24” – just like my rabbi!
I continued that practice almost every night for the last 5 years. It enormously helped me to deal with the stress I was enduring.
When he started to drink gallons of green tea every day, he instructed me to buy and read “The Green Tea Book.”. Of course I complied, and started copying the Rabbi and drinking at least 4 cups a day (he told me numerous times that we all need to drink 8 cups a day). I continue to drink a lot of green tea every day.
When I started a program to learn Mishna every day, the rabbi encouraged me and was the first person to sign up to join me.
After the summer of 1998 I made an “end of summer speech” during Seudah Shelisheet. That speech was called “The Ideal Synagogue”. I spoke all about Rabbi Labaton: his values, his ideals, his love of learning, his tolerance of all people, his respect for the dignity of all human beings, and about how much I would miss him until the next summer.
He would sometimes mention that speech to me, about how happy it made him feel. So I turned it into a “Thank You” letter and sent it to him. He called me when he received it and expressed his gratitude to me for sending it. I found this letter in my files and re-read it this week.
He was often asked to speak at my Grandmother Virginia Sultan’s book club and she always loved to hear his words of wisdom. But what was even more impressive was how he admired my grandmother! He would complement her and make her feel good about her wisdom and experience. This past summer, he found out that my grandmother was in the audience one Shabbat. So, before he started his speech – he stopped and mentioned that he was “pleased to welcome a special woman: Mrs. Virginia Sultan”. My Grandmother, who is 97 years young, was just ecstatic: “Did you hear that Jack? The Rabbi mentioned my name!” She was like a little girl in a candy store on her birthday. So excited; so pleased; so honored.
That was one of a million little acts of kindness of Rabbi Ezra Labaton. Acts that made people feel good about themselves; Acts that encouraged people to make their individual contribution to better society, to make the world a better, more loving, more dignified place.
When I published my books: he celebrated them with me and I will never forget how when I gave him a copy, he hugged me!
Not a day will I ever stop mourning the death of my rabbi, my compass, my mentor, confidante, my friend. His loss has created a void in my life that will be impossible to fill.
I only hope I can live my life thinking about his legacy, his ideals, his values, his lessons: justice, righteousness, truth, integrity, human dignity – principles that, if lived properly, will create a better world.
When someone passes away, we say: “Tehi nishmato serurah b’srour ha’hayim.”
“May his soul be bound with those of the living.”
Rabbi Labaton: Your soul will always be bound with the living because you made such an impression on our lives.
You instilled your love of Torah within us.
You taught us your legacy: of “Tikkun Olam”, of the concept of “selem elokim”. Of the dignity of all man. Of the ethics in the Torah. Of “deracheha darchei noam”. Of sedek sedek tirdof.
You didn’t just teach these concepts – you lived them.
You were the embodiment of “EBED HASHEM” – yet you loved people and loved to teach us, help us, encourage us, inspire us and be with us.
Rabbi Labaton: I’m going to miss you so much.
I’m going to miss praying with you in the morning, observing how you pray with fervor.
I’m going to miss sitting in your classes and watching you teach with passion.
I’m going to miss your Shabbat speeches, and the way you sing the Kiddush and other prayers with enthusiasm (even though you were so tone deaf!).
I’m going to miss your wise counsel, your unconditional friendship, your constant support and encouragement, the loving way you looked at me with your big beautiful smile, your optimism, your wisdom, your Torah – ALL OF YOU.
I’m going to miss your essence, your soul – which was and will always be bound to mine.
In the last 24 months, I lost both my parents – now I have lost you. But just like a parent – you enriched my life to no end, leaving me without words to express my grief and without enough adjectives to express my profound gratitude.
I will never be the same because I had the good fortune and blessing to find you and have you in my life.
Tehi zicrono baruch, ve’tehi nishmato serurah b’srour ha’hayim. Amen.
By Jack Doueck
