Continued from Sisterhood Newsletter, December 2007
My dad was born in 1925 in Chicago and was one of two brothers. His mother died in childbirth with a third sibling, leaving his father alone to care for two young boys. Upon the death of his wife and third child, my grandfather went away for the weekend to escape his grief. He left my father age 2, and his older brother age 4, alone in their apartment.
A relative found them alone and shortly afterwards; they were taken away from their home by social services. Upon my grandfather’s return, he knew that he could not care for his children on his own, and so he decided to leave them where social services had taken them.
My father and his brother were taken to live and to grow up in a Jewish Orphanage near my grandfather’s home. While at the Orphanage they was taught a beautiful little prayer that all the children said together before they went to sleep each night.
It was their bedtime
Shema and it went like this.
“Oh G-d, let me slumber gently through the night
And let me awake for life and light
Blessed my dear ones
“Shema Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad.
Hear O Israel, The Lord Our G-d, The Lord is One
Please make me worthy of all my friends
Whatever I do at all times
Thanks for listening G-d and Amen.”
The Shema is a declaration that all events that happen good
or bad are from ‘the One, the only One, and at the end of the days, we
will come to understand even how ‘the bad” was actually “for the good”,
even though at the time, it is hard to tell.
Perhaps, somehow my father understood this and knew that although his
father couldn’t take care of him, that he still loved him. My dad lived
at the orphanage from the time he was 2, until he turned 14, and was
then moved into foster care until he joined the Army at the age of 17.
I don’t know how meaningful this prayer was to each of the children
there, but to my dad, it was the one thing that saw him through his
entire lonely childhood. He knew that if he said this prayer every
night, that no matter where he was, he would be protected and watched
over.
The Shema continued to be an important part of his adult life and our
lives as his children and as our family. He taught us the prayer when
we were very young children. I can remember saying it with him, and my
mom and my brother and sister every night before we went to bed.
Sometimes he would cry and we would not understand.
No matter where my father was, even if he was traveling or away from my
mom, he would call my mother every night so they could say their
prayers together over the phone.
She cherishes the fact that during 17 short sweet years of their
marriage, they never went to bed angry because they always said their
prayers together before going to sleep.
My father passed away from kidney cancer in 1976, over 30 years ago at
the young age of 51. My brother and sister and I were 13, 14 and 15 at
the time. I still do miss him terribly, but I’m comforted that he still
lives on within me every day and night as I say “The Shema” before I go
to bed.
As I listened to the Rabbi ask the question “Where did your children
learn the Prayer?”, I knew it was time to teach the prayer to my own
children, letting them know where it had come from and the importance
of the prayer to our family’s history.
That evening, I recited the prayer with Brett who is 8 and Blake who is
6, and they had smiles of joy on their faces repeating each line after
me. At the end of the prayer, Brett Louis who is named for my father
Bernard Louis said to me, “Mommy, if I say the prayer every night, I
can always keep a piece of Grandpa Bernard with me and be protected
too.” I can’t begin to tell you the joy and tears that brought me.
And without fail, no matter what is happening at the end of each day we
pause to say, “The bedtime Shema,” to honor, our heritage and our
family and our G-d.
Although my father has been gone for 31 years, I still feel him with me by saying this prayer.
Luckily for me, this is not just a lovely prayer I learned in Hebrew
school as a child. It is now part of the fabric of whom I am and who my
children are becoming. This is their opportunity to connect with my
husband and me each day in a spiritual and meaningful way beyond soccer
and homework and the daily stuff we all have to do.
And it is a way to connect with the grandfather they unfortunately never knew.
For me, it is more than a prayer. It is the most profound and lasting gift that I have from my father.
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