When the great Rabbi Israel Baal
Shem Tov saw misfortune threatening the Jews, it was his custom to go into a
certain part of the forest to meditate.
There he would light a fire, say a special prayer, and the miracle would
be accomplished and the misfortune averted.
Later, when his disciple the
celebrated Magid of Mezritch, had occasion, for the same reason, to intercede
with heaven, he would go into the same place in the forest and say, “Master of
the Universe, listen! I do not know how to light the fire, but I am still able
to say a prayer.”
And again, the miracle would be
accomplished.
Still later, Rabbi Moshe-Leib of
Sasov, in order to save his people once more, would go into the forest and say,
“I do not know how to light the fire, I do not know the prayer, but I know the
place and this must be sufficient.”
It was sufficient, and the miracle
was accomplished.
Then it fell to Rabbi Israel of Rizhyn to overcome misfortune. Sitting in his armchair, his head in his
hands, he spoke to God: “I am unable to light the fire and I do not know the
prayer. I cannot even find the place in
the forest. All I can do is to tell the story, and this must be sufficient.”
And it was sufficient.
Childhood cancer kills more children each year than any
other disease — more than AIDS, asthma, cystic fibrosis, congenital anomalies
and diabetes combined. And yet, all types of childhood cancers combined receive
only 4% of the U.S. federal funding for cancer research. More than 175,000 kids
are diagnosed with cancer each year.[1]
But tonight I want to tell you the story of one of them.
I met his parents at a poker game in 2002. I think it was in
their home. I was invited by another player. I can’t shake from my memory that
there was a baby in a carrier on the floor most of the evening. It might have
been his older brother David, or it might have been any Cincinnati rabbinical
student’s kid. I remember that Mike was very funny when he did speak. I
remember Phyllis as being there but not playing. Perhaps she was busy with the
newborn or her studies. Maybe she just wasn’t into cards. I remember liking
them.
His mom and I participated in a Pre-Passover project in 2010
called Tweet the Exodus, along with 10 or so of our colleagues from all around
the country. One of the bonuses to being a part of such a project with so many
great rabbis is that there were a lot of terrific blogs to follow. It was fun
to read the exploits and ideas of my colleagues and learn from their best
practices and from their mistakes. Because I liked her style I regularly read
Rabbi Phyllis Sommer’s blog posts, in June 2012 I was shocked to read the news.
Sam Sommers, second born to Rabbis Phyllis and Michael, had
been diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia, a kind of cancer that starts in the
bone marrow and attacks the cells that would otherwise make white blood cells.
From the little I know about medical terms, “acute” usually means that
something is temporary. In this case, it means it appears quickly and attacks
quickly.
Sam was a wild kid with a great imagination. He loved magic
and superheroes, and very much loved his big brother David and his younger
siblings Yael and Solly. He had a great sense of humor, even through all the
tests and treatments and tubes and needles and pain.
During the summer of 2012, Sam and his mom had a
conversation about all the people saying Mi Shebeirach for him. She told him
that hundreds of synagogues all over the country had his name on the list, and
thousands of people were praying for him every day. He wasn’t sure if he believed
her, so he asked her, “prove it.” She had the idea that people should send Sam
pictures of themselves dressed in superhero T-Shirts, since he was already
known around the hospital by the moniker, “Superman Sam.” I was at URJ’s Camp
Coleman at the time, and I had about a dozen superhero shirts with me. I asked
the entire camp to put on their superhero shirts for lunch the next day. I
handed out a few, some of the counselors handed out a few, and about 100 of us
went out to the lawn and had a big picture taken for Superman Sam. Our ages
ranged from 7 to over 70. We represented four states, 16 congregations, and two
NFTY regions. It was a moment of great pride to know that we were among the 500
or so congregations who helped his mom “prove it.”
In January 2013 Sam was finished with his treatments. They
threw a celebration in the hospital where he got to ring a bell in celebration
of the miracle.
By March he had relapsed. They spent the year in and out of
the hospital. In late August, Sam had a bone marrow transplant. It looked good
for a while, but in November they realized that the cancer was going to win.
During the URJ Biennial Convention this December, on Friday
night, after an amazing Shabbat Service, after an evening celebrating and
singing and sharing so much joy, word spread that just after midnight for him
in Chicago, at home with his family, Superman Sam took his last breath.
Sam Sommers lost the battle, but the war is far from over.
Sam is far from the only child to contract such a horrible
disease. He isn’t even the only Reform rabbi’s child to fight cancer. Sam’s
inspirational attitude, his family’s openness, and the close-knit community of
friends they have all over the country have brought this fight to the
forefront, and now it is our turn to do whatever we can to help.
In memory of Sam and in honor of everyone fighting childhood
cancer, a group of rabbis has decided to do something a little drastic to call
attention to this fight. Started by Rabbi Rebecca Schorr and Rabbi Elizabeth
Wood, two very close personal friends of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer, the goal was
originally to get 36 rabbis to shave their heads publically to raise money.
Rabbi Einstein and I were among the first half of rabbis signed up for the
project. At first the goal was 36 rabbis raising $180,000. It seemed like quite
a difficult task. A short while later there were over 36 rabbis signed up. A
little while after that we had surpassed our original goal and had raised it to
$360,000. But we have surpassed that too.
To date there are 94 participants, including nearly 80 of us
shaving our heads on April 1 during the CCAR convention. We are $90,000 shy of our latest goal of
$540,000. The money goes to an organization called St. Baldricks, which has given
grant money for childhood cancer research to 690 projects for 326 institutions
in 20 countries.
So how does shaving our heads raise money for childhood
cancer? I’m glad you asked. We raise the money through sponsorship.
Three weeks ago at the NFTY SoCal Social Justice Kallah, the
teen board asked me if they could buzz my head to get me started for the shave
next month. Half thinking they were kidding, I said, “Sure, if you can raise
$1000 for St. Baldricks.” They were more than successful. They raised $1500 for
36 Rabbis. Quite an impressive group of
teens!
Now it’s your turn.
I am asking everyone I know to sponsor my shave on April 1.
It’s easy to do and can be done at any level.
All you have to do is go to stbaldricks.org and search for Rabbi David Young or CBT Rabbis, click the giant green
button that says “donate” and give a tax deductible donation in memory of
Superman Sam. The CBT Team is Rabbi Einstein, Rabbi Schorr, and me. Rabbi E and
I are both shaving, Rabbi Schorr is organizing the whole event. Once you have found the web site, pass the
information along to everyone you know.
Convince everyone you know to give what
they can to save lives.
You might not know the place, you might not have the shears, but now you have the story. Tell
Sam’s story. We can create the miracles
that could save thousands of children.
