Z, My Name Is Zalman
by Zalman Velvel
They chose the last speaker at this dinner honoring Chabad of Southwest Florida for his wisdom and humor. Unfortunately, he got sick. Now you're stuck with me.

Tonight, I want to talk about names. One of the interesting things about Judaism is our Hebrew names - they tell a story about our families. My American name is Stu Silver, no big deal. But my Hebrew name is Zalman Velvel ben Israel Yaakov, and there is a story there.

The Velvel comes from my great-grandfather. He was born in Russia, and was an Orthodox rabbi. Velvel left Russia 100 years ago. He traveled to America with his three sons and wife.

At Ellis Island the Immigration official asked my great Gampa his last name. "Yussalovitch," Velvel replied. "Sounds like Silver," the official concluded. The logic? Who knows.

Next stop - the shtetl. Brooklyn. Life in Brooklyn wasn't so easy, either. Everyone had to work. When it was the middle son's turn to go out into the business world, Daveed ben Velvel, my grandfather, moved to the real America - Astoria, Queens. He opened a ladies' sportswear store.

Daveed had a problem right away. There were Blue Laws that prohibited working on Sunday, and in the real America, a merchant did a whole week's business on Saturday, our Sabbath. Daveed maintained he was still an Orthodox Jew. He just cheated a little, he worked on Shabbos, to make a living for his family.

My father, Israel Yaakov ben Daveed, didn't follow in his father's footsteps, either. He became a dentist. And Israel Yaakov did what other successful men did - he moved to the suburbs. He joined a temple and he also worked on Shabbos. The difference was, he didn't feel guilty like his father.

The Zalman in my name came from my mother's father, my maternal grandfather. He is remembered for his lousy jokes, and eating too much. As you can see, I inherited his personality

Which bring us to me. I went to Gallus High School on Long Island. My Jewish education consisted solely of memorizing the phonetic words to my bar mitzva haftorah. What I remember most was how uncomfortable I was sitting through three incredibly long services every year - Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, and Passover. When I grew up, I stopped going to temple.

That is the story of my name, Zalman Velvel ben Israel Yaakov. It represents four generations, from Rabbi Velvel, F.F.B., Frum from Birth, to me, B.A.B.J. - Born American, Barely Jewish. I used my Hebrew name at my bar mitzva and then never again.

Though my name is not a typical name, the results are typical of what is happening to secular American Jews.

Now, my story took a sharp and interesting turn three years ago. I met Yitzhok Yaakov ben Lema, Rabbi Minkowicz, the Hasidic messenger from Crown Heights. Rabbi Minkowicz began calling me by my Hebrew name, even when not in temple. He made me realize that even with the material success my family achieved in America, I had a spiritual longing that was not being fulfilled. It was the call of Velvel, telling me, "Zalman, come home! Shabbos is starting and your dinner is getting cold!"

So with the Rabbi leading, I began my chuvah, my return, to my Jewish roots. I began reading the Bible, our Torah. The women in my family light candles on Friday night. My family started spending Shabbos together. I stopped working Saturdays. I grew a beard. I wore a yarmulka outside temple.

And then came the most difficult adjustment - I stopped eating spare ribs, shrimp, and lobster.

I want to close with an amazing revelation I had recently. A gentile friend whom I hadn't seen in years, saw me in the supermarket. He said he almost didn't recognize me, what with my yarmulka and beard. We engaged in some small talk, and then he asked me, "Are you happier being more Jewish?"

I said "yes," and he left shortly after that. But the question stayed with me, haunted me. "Am I happier being more Jewish?"

My first thought was, "What a silly question ! What does happiness have to do with being Jewish?" A Jew suffers. Your mother teaches you guilt, your father, fear, and then there's the indigestion.

But the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced it was a great question. I decided that the truest answer would come from the people closest to me. And I also decided I wasn't going to beg the answer, but make the question more general.

I started with my wife. I said, "Honey, since I've become more Jewish, have I changed?"

She looked at me, and answered, "To tell you the truth, you have become a little better husband, maybe a touch more considerate." And then she added, "But you still have a long way to go."

Then I went to my son and asked, "Since I've become more Jewish, have I changed?"

David studied me, and then answered, "Dad, to tell you the truth, I think you are a little better father now, a little more generous. Maybe, it's only with your time, but that's still something." And then he added, "But you still have a long way to go."

I finished with Rabbi Minkowicz. "Rabbi, since I've become more Jewish, have I changed?"

The Rabbi stroked his beard, and then answered. "Zalman, you're becoming a real mensch, a human being, but ..." No, he didn't say it. He's too nice to say it. What he did say was, "We shouldn't stop studying together just yet."

Now I am forced to the conclusion that since I've become more Jewish, I'm on the road to becoming a better person, but I still have long way to go.

I want to thank Rabbi Minkowicz, Nechami, and their children for coming to Fort Myers and creating Chabad of Southwest Florida. I want to thank them for teaching us B.A.B.Js that at the heart and soul of Judaism is becoming better people, and making other people's lives better in the process. Thank you, and good night.


Reprinted with permission from www.zalmanvelvel.com


 

Adapted and reprinted with the permission of Sichos In English
Pictures are  by Zalmen Kleinman