Rabbi Donald J. Pollock

In blahblahginger's previous post, I discussed the importance of savoring the good times, because you never know.....

What do you never know? You never know when they might come to an abrupt end. When someone you dearly love and cherish is suddenly gone. In the last post, I mentioned the Jewish New Year. We spent the morning of Rosh Hashanah the way we have for years - with our beloved Rabbi Don Pollock and his incredible wife Betsy, and the service they conduct with what's become an extended yet still intimate little Jewish community in Brookline, MA. Don married us in 2001. For a year before the ceremony, P and I got to know him (and he us) over the course of about a dozen sessions in his home. Everybody who attended our wedding can speak to how remarkable a man Don is -- it was a ceremony you don't easily forget. Since then, he has been our counselor, our therapist, and most importantly, a very, very dear friend.

Don passed away Tuesday night. He was 64, but he was also, to all of us who loved him so dearly, ageless.

Don was in on the secret about the surprise birthday trip P had planned for me to Paris for my 40th birthday. When P's mother passed away, Don left the most beautiful, heartfelt message on our home voicemail. P saved it for months and months, because of its comforting eloquence. Just hearing his voice lowered your blood pressure. When we saw Don, we didn't get a handshake, we got a big hug and a kiss. Not just us. Everyone did. That was Don. It always felt like a safe, comforting security blanket.

Don was a lover of life. He dearly loved Betsy and their two children. He loved their wonderfully remodeled house in Brookline, and their golden retriever Honey. Don loved to laugh. I'll always hear his deep, booming laugh echo through my memory.. Most of all, Don loved the community he created. He was a rabbi who disdained the political intrigue of a formal synagogue environment, and instead created his own congregation without walls. He performed bar- and bat-mitzvahs, officiated at weddings, funerals, and other life celebrations. Don was an ardent protector of human rights, and was one of the first rabbis in Massachusetts to marry gay and lesbian couples.  Oh yes, Don was very politically outspoken.  You didn't want to get him started on the corrosive dangers and outright failures of Shrub's presidency. His last Rosh Hashanah sermon bemoaned what had become of the pervasive culture of fear and mistrust in the ten years since 9/11. I've never known a rabbi who could craft a sermon the way Don could. There was no such thing as cookie cutter with him. His passion for justice and tikkun olam (the healing of the world) soaked through every word. He didn't just preach the words. He lived them.

He was also an extraordinarily talented and dedicated therapist. His life was dedicated to helping others. Don was a rabbi in the very best sense of the word. He was a teacher, not of the formal words found in the Talmud, but what the sentiments convey. Don ceaselessly asked the central question of the Jewish experience: why. He pondered what it meant to be Jewish, and what it meant to find meaning in a dauntingly complex world. Don was, above all, a true mensch. As a friend mused yesterday, the words "rabbi" and "mensch" don't always go together, but with Don they certainly did. His generosity of spirit, his humanity, and eager embrace of the people around him awed me from the very first time we met.

The last words both P and I said to Don when we parted after High Holiday services were "I love you." When Don said I love you, he meant it with all his heart, all his soul, and all his might.  He believed in us, both separately as individuals, and together as a couple. That faith in us never waned, not from the first day. It has strengthened us immeasurably through the years. Though we are thoroughly devastated by Don's passing and grieve with Betsy, the family and the extended community, we also carry Don's love, his wisdom and his boundless spirit with us forever.

Thank you, Don, for all you gave us, all you taught us, everything you saw in us, and most of all, for sharing your heart with us. We will never forget you. Your love was a gift, and we'll treasure it for as long as we live. May your memory be for a blessing.