Trusting & Thriving Four Generations On — Lech L’cha 5781

My wife and I bought our first home this summer, which makes me the fourth generation of the Friedman family to put down roots in the United States.

My grandfather’s grandfather, on my mothers side, was born in Lithuania in 1881, and our family can trace its lineage all the way back to his great-grandfather, David Friedlander. The names repeat every few generations, as often happens in Ashkenazi Jewish families. We’ve had more Davids, Nathans, and Hershel Mendels than I can count, including two Nathans currently alive, myself included, and my uncle—the reigning Herschel Mendel.

It’s impossible for me to read Lech L’cha without thinking of my family, and my grandfather who was named for his grandfather, Avrum Dovid Friedman.

Avrom Dovid is a powerful name, capturing two halves of the Jewish historical experience—from the name-changing covenant G-d makes with old-man Avrum to the height of the Israelite kingdom’s power, might, and glory. It’s a name that represents the fulfillment of a promise G-d makes to Abraham this week, that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars in the sky. Pretty lofty, as promises go, but the weirdest part is that Abraham just accepts this promise, without asking for a sign, a covenant, or some other form of reliance that G-d’s promise would eventually bear fruit.

The text reads:

וְהֶאֱמִ֖ן בַּֽיהֹוָ֑ה וַיַּחְשְׁבֶ֥הָ לּ֖וֹ צְדָקָֽה׃

“And he who believed in G-d considered it was because of his righteousness, his tzedakah.”

My grandfather was tall—over 6’5”. A grocer with strong but gentle hands who spent a lifetime shuffling produce crates and plucking perfect apples for customers at his store.

He and my grandmother raised six children on a small salary, saved enough to enjoy retirement in their own style, and still managed to leave a little to each of their kids on the way out. In every way that matters my grandfather’s life was the fulfillment of his grandfathers dream, one that led him to place his son Reuben on a boat, bound for a place he couldn’t see or even imagine, Ellis Island, with faith and trust that somehow everything would work out.

My grandfather was named well. Avrom Dovid Friedman, Irv as he was known, bridged the gap between the generations who trusted in G-d’s promise, and the generations who saw it fulfilled in their own lives. He never asked for a sign his effort would pay off, he just faithfully trusted that it would.

That same trust had propelled his father Reuben halfway across the United States, to Youngstown, OH, where he’d meet and marry Yetta Gordon before moving to Trenton, MI where they settled down. Where a young Irving Friedman met Elaine Ellias, my grandmother, and where my mother Margaret was born. My mother who, 31 years later, named her first child, my brother, in memory Reuben and Jetta.

And now here I am, thousands of miles from any of the places they called home, building my own, continuing the circle of trust that is our family’s legacy.

We may not be as numerous as the stars in the sky, but the Friedmans are still here and still thriving four generations on.

And if any of the people whose names I’ve mentioned tonight were still here to see it, I hope and pray that they would know it only happened because of their trust, because of their tzedakah.

Here’s to many more generations of Avrom, Dovid, and Herschel Mendel Friedmans, and maybe a few Nathans sprinkled in just for good measure.

Shabbat Shalom