By Rabbi Michael A. Latz, other
I grew up in Minnesota. Shabbat dinners at my grandparents’ home in St. Paul frame my childhood memories of life in the cold Midwestern state. My zayde spent much of his life active in union organizing; I grew up in a community where names like Humphrey and Mondale held near-religious esteem. To be a Jew, my rabbis taught, was to be involved in the world, to help those who needed it, to be a beacon of conscience when others remained silent.
As a Minnesotan, I was particularly saddened last month by the tragic deaths of Minnesota Senator Paul Wellstone, his wife Sheila, their daughter Marcia, three campaign staff and two pilots in a plane crash in Northern Minnesota. Paul was one of the minyan in the Senate and he was a passionate, unapologetic liberal voice in the nation’s capitol.
Yet, in the words of William Dockser, Wellstone was “first and foremost a mensch — in the fullest sense of the word. His deep commitment to helping people and fighting for the underdog was informed directly by his Jewish understanding of tikkun olam — literally ‘repairing the world.’
“All of his political and policy struggles, whether in the areas of foreign policy, human rights, or policies affecting the underserved, revolved around his commitment to helping people and positively affecting the lives of as many people as possible.”
Senator Wellstone was a champion of decency, integrity and honesty, committed to equality and fairness. As the only senator to speak at the National Gay and Lesbian Rights March in Washington, D.C., he proclaimed, “I have always said to my wife, Sheila, and to our children, that leadership is not about appealing to the hatred or the fear or the frustrations of people. Leadership is about inspiring people to be their own best selves. And as a United States senator, I want you to know that I support this rally for human rights and civil rights for all people.”
We cannot always find meaning in suffering, in the untimely deaths of friends and loved ones. Indeed, the factual explanation that Senator Wellstone’s plane apparently crashed due to an ice storm just isn’t very satisfying to many of us. It does not answer the eternal question, “Why?” That question dangles in the air like the knife that Abraham held over Isaac. There are many times when no rational explanation answers the longing of the human spirit. And so, with some reticence, we instead look to life to discern some meaning and purpose.
Senator Wellstone’s life is a legacy of hope and beacon of justice for each of us. He was a college professor for 21 years at Carlton College, a small liberal arts school in Northfield, Minnesota before he ran for the senate in 1990. Wellstone upset the incumbent senator and he won the election to the surprise of many.
Paul Wellstone reminded us that there is great nobility in public service, profound satisfaction in giving to others. He lived a life of chesed, tzedek, and avodah; he taught us that there is no greater joy than the service of God and humanity. To heal the soul and to repair the world — is this not our purpose on this earth?
Wellstone was a maverick senator, locked in a tough re-election battle this fall. Political pundits, advisers and his fellow party members all told him that if he voted against authorizing the President to use force in Iraq, his political career would end in defeat this November 5.
“I agonized over what to do,” Wellstone told reporters just a few days before he died. “I told my wife it might be the end of the race. The conventional wisdom in Washington was that if you cast that vote, you lose.” Then, on the floor of the Senate, Wellstone stood tall and voted his conscience. He was the only senator in a tough re-election campaign to vote against the resolution. He understood the risks were great and still he cast the ballot of his conscience. There is holiness in dissent.
As a rabbi, I often hear people lament the lack of heroes in our world, the absence of true integrity. Senator Paul Wellstone was a leader who served his state, the Jewish community and the people of our nation with passion, conviction and humility. Like Abraham who walked the earth many generations ago, Wellstone leaves us a legacy of greatness, an opportunity to glimpse our highest selves.
Zecher Tzadik Livracha — May his memory be for a blessing.