As a young boy I spent countless hours fishing off the banks of Morgan's Pond near my home. I never caught many fish but I tossed many a pebble into the water and watched the resulting tiny ripples roll toward every corner of the shore surrounding that peaceful body of water. Little did I know those experiences would one day turn into a memorable Torah lesson.
In 1922 a young Boris Fisch and his twin brother Joe were born in a tiny village in Hungary. When they were young students they both attended a Hungarian institute dedicated to training young men to serve as Chazzans in Shuls around the world. Studying with the intensity of a supernova young Boris mastered one ancient tune after another. It has been said that young Boris was so good at learning these challenging tunes that at one point in his life he knew a melody for every prayer in his prayer book. When Boris and his brother were mere teenagers, their family emigrated to the United States looking for a new life in the land of opportunity.
Later in life Boris made his way from Pittsburgh to New York where he was employed as a full time men’s hat maker and a "part time" Chazzan. While making hats paid the bills, Boris' true vocation was that of a Chazzan and bar mitzvah teacher. His friends and colleagues estimate Chazzan Boris helped well over 3000 boys prepare for their bar mitzvahs. One of the very first bar mitzvah students the Chazzan worked with in New York was a high-energy lad named Paul Katz. While studying for his bar mitzvah young Paul’s Zaddie asked him if he was going to read from the Torah during his bar mitzvah. Since he’d never thought about it, Paul asked the Chazzan. Without skipping a beat the Chazzan told Paul, "Sure but the journey will not end there." A 12 year old Paul had no idea what the Chazzan had in mind but he wanted to please his Zaddie so he studied with the Chazzan and eventually had his bar mitzvah where he successfully chanted the ancient tune as he read from the Torah, just as he'd been taught by the Chazzan.
As time went on Paul learned exactly what the Chazzan meant when he told the young Paul that it would be a long journey. For the Chazzan, classically trained in the art of ancient Jewish songs and tunes of worship, had found his protégé in young Paul. Over the next ten years the Chazzan taught Paul every note, every phrase, every melody from his vast repertoire. Although Paul paid the bills by practicing neurological medicine, his true vocation was that of Chazzan. While Paul's pursuit if medicine took him all over the world, he never lost touch with Chazzan Fisch, speaking to him often.
Eventually the Chazzan retired and moved to Florida. Paul who was now better known as Doctor Katz, Medical Director of the Washoe Comprehensive Stroke Center and Institute for Neurosciences, Washoe Medical Center, Reno, Nevada continued to communicate with his friend and mentor and questioned him often about the tunes for Shabbat, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. While Doctor Katz paid the bills through his work at the hospital, his “part time” vocation was serving as the Chazzan at Chabad of Northern Nevada in Reno. Week in and week out the small but growing congregation listened intently as Chazzan Katz chanted the ancient tunes a young Chazzan and his brother had learned many decades before in a tiny Jewish school in Hungry. Shortly after the most recent Yom Kippur the Chazzan asked Paul how the dovening went. Paul happily informed the Chazzan that while he was dovening Musaf, the prayers were so strong, he felt like the Chazzan was standing right beside him. The Chazzan had never heard his protégé lead the Reno congregation but he'd made plans to visit his pupil on Shavuous of the upcoming year. Unfortunately Hashem had other plans for the 83-year-old Chazzan and he passed away before he could make the cross-country trip.
At the conclusion of the Chazzan's emotional funeral service his family mentioned that he had always intended to record his special tunes, so his many students and congregants could listen to them for years to come. But somehow life got in the way and he never made it to the recording studio. Immediately all eyes turned to the Chazzan’s protégé and someone said, “Paul you know all of his tunes, you should record them.” On that day, in a shul in New York, a pledge was made and the Chazzan’s exceptional student committed to recording his teacher’s most treasured possession, his vast repertoire of melodies.
Upon his return to Reno Paul received a personal invitation to attend a party honoring local Chabad Rabbi Mendel Cunin. The invitation cautioned that it was a surprise and asked him to keep the event a secret. Arriving at the Rabbi’s home Paul was surprised to see over 40 members of the congregation packed into the Cunin’s living room. When the Rabbi walked in he asked everyone to join him in the shul. A few moments later the Rabbi looked at Paul and informed him that we weren’t really here for a surprise party for the Rabbi. He told him that we were really here to honor the blessed memory of Paul’s mentor, Chazzan Boris Fisch, a man none of us had ever met but whose efforts and commitment had an immeasurable impact on our entire congregation. He went on to say that his friends had contributed funds, in Chazzan Fisch’s name, to sponsor a parsha in the Shul’s new Torah, ensuring everyone who walked in the door for generations to come would recognize the Chazzan’s impact on Chabad of Northern Nevada. And with that he handed Paul a brass plate emblazoned with the name of Chazzan Boris Fisch and invited him to place it next to the parsha of his choice on a much larger memorial plaque that showcased every parsha of the Torah. With tears in his eyes and a smile on his face he placed it next to parsha Behar. With emotions swirling and joy in the air we all retired to the Cunnin’s home and listened for hours as Chazzan Katz shared a plethora of stories of his mentor’s glorious life.
As the evening came to a close and we departed for home, I couldn’t help but reflect back to my youthful days at Morgan’s Pond, throwing pebbles into the calm waters, watching the rippling waves make their way to distant shores. We had just spent an evening honoring a man, who 40 years earlier had thrown a spiritual pebble into the life of a very young boy, and now many years later the resulting ripples had made their way to the distant shores of Reno, Nevada, inspiring and captivating the souls of a Jewish community he’d never met.
No comments:
Post a Comment