I'm sharing the eulogy I delivered at dad's funeral on behalf of his children-in-law. yehe zichro baruch
Words of eulogy for our beloved father in law Stanley Langer
Towards the beginning of January, I delivered a shiur at the YCT Tanach study seminar, dedicated in the merit of refuah for Meir Zalka hakohen ben nechama. The topic I had chosen for the class was the relationship between Moshe and Yitro. I found myself devoting countless hours to the talk, looking for the support for what my kishkes, my gut, told me was the essence of their relationship. This was not the average depiction of a relationship in the Torah; it reflected something different, a special type of bond. The bond that brought this former kohen of midyan to rejoice in the accomplishments and successes of Moshe and his people. The bond that welcomed Yitro to talk straight, with affectionate concern, to Moshe about the way he was running his operation. There was something deep, really deep, in this relationship. Among a few key messages I sought to convey at that time, I shared these words of Abravanel, who saw what I saw in the verses about their first encounter. Comments Abravanel:
והנכון שכאשר דבר משה עם יתרו ומצא בו טוב טעם ודעת רצה להתחבר עמו מפני חכמתו והוא אמרו ויואל משה לשבת את האיש
“When Moshe spoke with Yitro, and found him to be of such incisive reasoning and wisdom, Moshe sought to be connected to him. That’s what the verse means when it says “and Moshe was decided to dwell with the man (i.e. Yitro)”-”
It was very clear to me that what I was seeing, indeed, experiencing within the narrative of Moses and his father-in-law Yitro, was what I was privileged to experience with my father-in-law, Stanley Langer, ob”m. As I share these brief words with you this morning on behalf of myself and his other children-in-law: Ellie, Lilly, and Jonathan, I know that, in its various permutations, this is what they too have experienced. He was a kohen, to be sure, and a leader in so many ways. That was never lost on us. Yet these brief reflections relate to him as - our father-in-law.
Almost 25 years ago, Suzie wandered into the kitchen in the midst of a conversation that Ellie, Lilly, Jonathan and I were having. She overheard our talking about “Stanley” and “Ruby” and was horrified. This is what “you call them among yourselves!?” she accused. I had the best excuse- they were first Stanley and Ruby to me as my congregants before they became my inlaws. What Suzie, briefly took as a sign of distance couldn’t be further from the actual truth. It was, in fact, just a reference point for us; there was no doubt that Ruby and Stanley were, for each of us, truly our second parents. And we are forever grateful for the gift that dad, along with mom, gave us, as they never treating us as inlaws, always as their own.
Ellie shared a recollection yesterday as we spoke, of herself as a young bride to Freddy, entering this family. She remembered not having a clue how she would establish a relationship with dad, this big imposing man, larger than life, who at first seemed scary to her as a 20 yr old. She wondered whether there would be closeness, not picturing how that would play out. What she found was that there was nothing but gentleness. Whatever he had to say was gentle, and his embrace was always a warm, loving embrace.
Dad rarely made demands of his children or us; there was no guilt for perhaps not calling or coming, never an expectation that we be someone. Whatever any of us (or his children, or our children) did was really great. He loved to be with our families, and our children- every soccer, hockey, and basketball game, every chag hassidur and other event he could possibly attend, he did. Vacations together each summer. Weekends with us in Providence when we craved family, Sundays in Westchester or W. Orange. He’d come in after a morning perhaps antiquing with mom, spend the afternoon with the family and then might say “ruby, let’s catch a flick” and they’d head out to the movies. We wanted more.
Dad was generous with his children, and with us as well, in the most important ways- with his self and his supportive words. Lilly commented how, without exception, after an evening bbq or other meal at her home he would offer his loving compliments. We only received good from him- Always a “thank you,” it was wonderful,” “it was great”. When mom and dad arrived the grandchildren flocked to them. Dad was not the grandparent who walked in and showered presents on the kids in order to engage - even as mom made sure to think of them and often pick up something special for them when she was out and about. With dad, the way he spoke to them, the interest he showed in how they were doing- in them, each, uniquely created the ties, the love.
One could see the love and respect they had for him in the way as many as could possibly be here were at his side just a few weeks back. Tommi had organized an 83 birthday party for him with a beach theme, as he had mentioned that he wished he could have taken a cruise with mom. It was mirrored just 2 days ago as grandchildren gathered around his bed in Calvary. We even made a minyan with him that afternoon. And such an important thing was conveyed- throughout his entire illness, even the very last moments, he insisted on donning a kippah. What a statement of his Jewish mind and heart, and what a lesson to his children and grandchildren.
Dad was the smartest man I know. He knew the law. He knew any topic he sought to understand. He thought with his head, yet usually began with “my gut tells me.” He was so incisive, able to get right to the heart of any issue. Often as we’d be spilling out the details and half assessments of a problem we had, he would say- “wait a minute. Go back a few steps” or “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” or “one step at a time.” And he’d guide our thinking, talk us down the tree, give us the perspective we needed to move forward.
When he needed to play the tough critic, he’d play that too. A two-fold story- 25 years ago, just around this time of year, I turned to him after doing very poorly in an interview for a shul position. He sat with me in the basement of my home in Providence and drilled me for hours. It made all the difference for me. So years later I brought him on to help take on the role of elder-statesman congregant in mock interviews for my students at Chovevei. He asked probing questions, flipping on and off his glasses, eyes closed half the time as he listened. And then he’d help critique and review, generally offering helpful comments and insights. Yet, there were a few times, just a few- when I looked on horrified as he said straight out to my student, no cushion provided- “that was a terrible interview!” Immortalized on a pbs documentary is his mock interview with one student who referred to him in the interview as “Stanley.” In the review he pointed to himself and said- “you called me Stanley. Look at me. Do I look like a Stanley to you? To you I am Mr. Langer.” That had nothing to do with any actual need of his own- it was an on target piece of advice for a young rabbi that would never be forgotten.
The real him was gentle and caring. The one who would follow up with a phone call to a daughter in-law to see how she was feeling. The one who encouraged his worried med-school wait-listed son-in-law, by telling him to flip through the directory of doctors and realize that if those schnooks could do it, that he most certainly could (And that doctor son-in-law has been so wonderful to him in his care needs these past months). The one who called on erev yom kippur to give a long phone-call brachah, not just to his children but to us too. The one who loved our own parents, and of whom our own parents would often tell us- “you are so blessed to have married into a family like this, and to have such a man as your father-in-law.” The one who loved and respected us, and whom we loved and respected so deeply. Our Yitro.
Yitro reemerges in parshat b’haalotcha as the people prepare to head to Israel, and Yitro prepares to leave. Moshe pleads with him-
(לא) וַיֹּאמֶר אַל־נָא תַּעֲזֹב אֹתָנוּ כִּי עַל־כֵּן יָדַעְתָּ חֲנֹתֵנוּ בַּמִּדְבָּר וְהָיִיתָ לָּנוּ לְעֵינָיִם:
“please, do not desert us… you, who have known our stations in the wilderness. You have been our eyes.”
We are bereft of our Yitro, wanting to say the same to him. “Don’t leave us! You have been our eyes, our confidant, our advisor, and our supporter, reveling in our accomplishments and loving us all the way.”
You have left us, nonetheless, as it must be. We will forever be enriched by having been part of your world.