My Jewish Journey

My Jewish Journey begins – as it should - with my mother, Rochelle. Mom sent her two-part Yom Kippur greeting yesterday. Part One: “I only wish you and your beautiful family the sweetest of New Years”. Part Two: “Kineahora”. If you’re not familiar with the Yiddish word “Kineahora” … you should be. By wishing me a Happy

New Year, Mom was unwittingly inviting the evil eye to descend on me. (Think of the

Eye of Sauron in Lord of the Rings.) Yet mom says “Kineahora” to protect me from her own New Year’s greeting. And that – for me - is Goldsholl 1.0.

Though my birth certificate says “Scott” … I was named after my uncle, Sam

Goldsholl. Mom would explain that by taking the “S” from Sam’ name … Sam’s soul would live on in me. It’s like Mufasa living inside of Simba. I received my Jewish education on those Sundays that our Uncle Morrie and Aunt Cele would bring lox, bagels and smokefish.

In the summer of 1965 we moved to Shreveport, Louisiana. The day we moved in … the Rabbi’s wife – Leona Lefkowitz – dropped by … unannounced … with a few gallons of cold water. That began a friendship that lasted until Leona’s death a few years ago. Leona introduced us to her husband, Rabbi David Lefkowitz. On the short list of people who made an impact on my life … Rabbi Lefkowitz, my father and my mother were the nuclear triad. Rabbi Lefkowitz was old school. While the Temple organist would play “My Country ‘Tis of Thee”, Rabbi Lefkowitz would recite "Grant us peace,

Thy most precious gift, O Thou eternal source of peace, and enable Israel to be a messenger of peace unto the peoples of the earth". For the Neilah service at Yom

Our family would attend services most Friday nights. And – from time to time – I would sit next to my father. And - from time to time – my father would make me laugh.

To this day, I dread the words “silent prayer” … because that would mean that I had to literally hold my breath for a good minute to stop laughing. My favorite photograph is one of my father and me at my nephews’ b’nai mitzvah … and I’m laughing so that I can’t finish my aliyah and Dad is just looking at me as if to say “oy”.

My folks would always say that no matter where I may live … it’s very important to join a Temple. My folks would also always say that I could choose one of three career possibilities: Doctor, Lawyer or CPA.

A couple times a year, Flo Selber – a member of the congregation – would take my brother Michael and me to Saturday morning services … and would then take us to her house … make us lunch … and then we would climb up to her roof … and remove pine straw from her roof and gutters. We’d be up there for hours. In retrospect, we were truly Temple kids. And I still can’t believe that our parents would let us up on that roof!

One more thing about my childhood: Once a year ABC would air “The Ten

Commandments”. My brothers and I were glued to the TV and – after a while – we knew the good lines. So, I was blown away when I learned that the line “So let it be written. So let it be done” … wasn’t in the Torah. And the description of Moses in Exodus as a man with a speech impediment just didn’t work for me.

In 1988 I met Kennon and – thank God – she wanted to convert. And so in 1989 we joined B’Nai Israel. Kennon and I were married in this room in 1990. Kennon was

Kennon hadn’t fully completed her Jedi training: the formal conversation happened a few years later. But, Rabbi Levy rolled the dice and won. From the start, Kennon was an active member of this congregation … she served as Temple president a few years ago … and Kennon create a Jewish home. If it weren’t for Kennon, this speech would only be two pages.

The rest is history. Almost 30 years later, we’ve done our best to give our three children – Sara, Jacob and Leah – a strong Jewish identity. And along the way we’ve developed some wild memories. Like the time we almost burnt down our house an hour before the sedar. Or the time my brother, Michael, passed out cold at Jacob’s bris. Or my brother David’s wedding … where Rabbi Levy told Michael not to take photographs during the wedding … but he took photographs anyway … while faking a cough every time he’d press the shutter button. And it seems to take about a month after our annual

Chanukkah party for the latke aroma to leave the house.

And now I’m at a weird stage in this Jewish Journey. I seem to know fewer of you by name and am going to more funerals. Still, I’m thinking of new ways to find that eight year-old boy laughing in services. For instance, I’m scrapping the Haggadah at this year’s Sedar and am – instead – using an annotated script of The Ten Commandments.

Finally, a few years ago I sat down with each of our kids and told them that they had three career possibilities. I’m happy to report that our daughter, Sara, is now in her first year of medical school.

I wish you all the best for the New Year. Kineahora.