Rabbi, it is no coincidence that you left us in the week of Parashat Vayigash. The word vayigash means to come close. In one of the most powerful episodes of Sefer Bereshit, Yosef tells his brothers, “Geshu nah elai,” and the pasuk continues, “Vayigashu.” Yosef asks his brothers to come close and be united; to forget the past. The most important thing in the world for him was for his family to be close. At the end of the parasha, the famine in Egypt is discussed, but in Goshen, the pasuk says, “Vayifru, vayirbu meod,” they were fruitful and multiplied. Only there, where the Jews were united, did they continue to thrive despite the difficulties the rest of the country was experiencing.
It’s also no coincidence that you passed away on the 8th day of Hanukkah. If we rearrange the letters of the dreidel: nun, gimel, heh, and shin, we get the word “goshna.” The Maccabees were only victorious because of their focus on unity.
Rabbi Labaton, your weekly messages were often about unity. Your mission in life was unity and closeness. You knew that in order for our community to succeed, we must be united. To that end, you taught us about making a difference in the world. You taught us about treating every person with dignity and respect. You taught us to find the best in each person and give him or her the benefit of the doubt. You taught us that the secret to success is communication.
Along with family and community unity, one of your most important messages was about personal growth. You taught us to strive to be the best that we could be. When I finished high school and was considering starting work or going to college, you told me, “Money comes and goes, but knowledge stays forever.”
Rabbi, you were my guiding light. We had so many conversations about doing the right thing. I remember fondly the times you called my office. I would pick up the phone with tremendous energy and greet you with, “Rebbi u’Mori,” my rabbi and my teacher, for you truly were both. You called me sometimes just to say thank you. Other times you called me to discuss a difficult situation. Oftentimes, when I thought I could only spare two minutes, we’d end up speaking for 45 minutes. How glad I am that we did!
Through every conversation we had, you were only interested in the pursuit of truth. Honesty was your signature. Your guiding principle was, “What do you think Hashem would want you to do?”
When I was president of the synagogue and faced challenging circumstances, you used to tell me, “I will take care of it.” You weren’t afraid of a challenge, as long as you knew it served a greater good. Any time I wanted to have programs in the shul, you were so supportive and blessed me for all my efforts. You were my beacon of strength, as you were for so many others. You were especially tolerant and understood that every congregant had different needs, whether they were spiritual, intellectual or emotional. You always met those needs with sensitivity and respect, catering to each congregant on his or her level.
Rabbi Labaton, you taught us so many vital life lessons. It seems trivial to say how sorely you will be missed.
I am so grateful that my children were blessed to have known you. You were an integral part of my family’s life, both on a daily basis, and during momentous occasions. You married me and Camille, attended all three of my daughters’ Bat Mitzvah shabbatons, and traveled to Israel for my son’s Bar Mitzvah. I always assumed you’d be here to marry off my children, too!
Rabbi, your words and teachings will resonate within me all the days of my life and I will continue to teach my children your ways. I am forever thankful that I had the privilege to be your student, your colleague and your friend.
With love always,
Raymond Saka
