Dear Jonah,

Amazingly, it’s been seventeen years since we lost you. Many people still awkwardly walk on eggshells around me, thinking that I must still be drowning in my grief. To that, I say, good for them. If they don’t yet know that grief fades, that I have very much been able to carry on with a constructive, joyful life, I hope death keeps its distance for as long as possible.

Yes, of course I still miss you. But you are no longer front of mind. Thank God. That really would destroy me. Mostly, however, I’ve been able to tuck you away, in a soft place inside my heart where you continue to reside in love and forever memory.

3rd Grade
June 1999

Every now and then, I like to take you out from that place and spend some time with you – to remember your face, your smile, your quirky sweetness. It’s not sadness that I feel as I write this, but the warmth of familiar, cherished love. Certainly, if I thought I could bargain with God to bring you back, I would do that. But with time, those well-established phases of grief have mostly receded to distant shores. Nowadays, I simply love remembering you, never tiring of looking at your photograph, of reliving time spent together, and of giving thanks that I got nineteen years of you.

Back in 2013, one of my favorite young rabbis, Dan Geffen, was teaching the story of Noah, who was known in Jewish tradition as a tzaddik, a “righteous person,” which is a term that usually refers to the superheros of the Jewish people – like Abraham and Sarah, Joseph, Moses … and Noah.

But Noah gets a lot of pushback in our tradition, mainly because he followed God’s orders in building the Ark and preserving earth’s biodiversity, a super-important action to be sure, but he only did that. Lots of folks wonder if he should have done more. For example, Noah never challenged God’s decision to flood the planet in the first place, never argued for an entirely different scenario. He also never shared with anyone outside of his family that earth’s destruction was imminent and that everyone should get to work building their own arks. He kept to himself, following God’s orders, building the Ark and saving life on earth while allowing millions to die along the way.

In Genesis 6:9 we read, “Noah was a righteous man, blameless in his generation.”

It’s the “blameless in his generation” that has gotten a lot of attention. Since Jewish tradition ascribes great meaning to each and every word of Torah, we’ve wondered why it was necessary to add the words, “in his generation.” Some say that the people in Noah’s time were so awful, that the bar of acceptable behavior was so low, that Noah’s righteousness was all the more impressive. But others say that had Noah lived in any other time, his actions would have been far less impressive. In any other generation, Noah would never have made the grade, never would have been considered a tzaddik.

I’ve always been unsatisfied with these explanations, Jo, and have continued wondering about this passage … until I heard Dan mention that Noah is referred to as a tzaddik long before he performed his monumental rescue of life on earth. Is it possible then that the Flood wasn’t what earned him the moniker of tzaddik.

And if so, then what had?

Dan’s theory was that perhaps Noah wasn’t destined to be a leader – but a leader wasn’t what God needed from him anyway. God was in need of someone to do all the stuff necessary for future life on earth to survive the Flood. Noah followed God’s orders. And while he may not had the wherewithal to push back against God’s plans – nor did he have the “stuff” that would have been needed to persuade people he wasn’t crazy, that destruction was indeed coming, and that everyone else had better see to their own survival and quickly – he could get the Ark built, gather all the animals, and care for them for the very long year it would take for the waters to receded and place them back on dry ground.

As Dan said, “What was needed was not bravado, or chutzpah, or a commanding presence. What was needed instead was what Noah did best – remaining calm in the face of calamity.”

I remember listening to Dan and thinking about you, Jonah.

There was never any doubt in my mind that you could have been a leader. And in fact, I think you very quietly were one. But you never wanted to step out front and take charge. What you did want was to treat each person you met with kindness, humor and, if needed, a helping hand. You did so quietly. You did so without question. And without standing at any helm, you were loved for how much good you brought into the world.

Were you a tzaddik? Well, you were my tzaddik. It’s part of what I love remembering about you. Every story that was shared by someone whose life you gently touched and made better, those are the testimonials that speak of your greatness. I am in awe of how many there were.

Seventeen years are now passed, Jonah, but your legacy stands strong, beautifully captured in these words (whose author I unfortunately do not know):

Hurricane Katrina relief work in Mississippi (Feb 2007) — there was never any question that this was where your heart was

Few of us ever achieve the acclaim of everyone,
But that is not to say that fame has escaped us.
In the hearts of a handful of people whose lives we have touched intimately,
Our torch will continue to burn without us.

And who is to say this is not a greater achievement,
To grasp fame without doing famous things,
To be loved for what we were instead of what we were able to become,
To be forgiven our faults,
And to be celebrated simply for our spirits,
Our character,
And our willingness to try?

Once upon a time, I carried a deep sadness because you were gone. But nowadays, Jonah, I carry deep gratitude that you were here. Thank you for that gift.

Love you forever,
Dad