Loving What Death Can Touch

Joel Wittstein was the only rabbi the Temple Israel in London, Ontario ever had. Discovering in 1987 that there was a small group of Reformist Jews desiring to make their faith compatible with the culture in which they lived, Wittstein sent in his resume and quickly became the first rabbi of the new synagogue. Almost immediately he began stretching the hearts and minds of the then small Jewish membership of some 35 families. As the years grew, so did his impact on the larger community around him. He reached out to the Roman Catholic community and explored ways in which the two faiths could explore their roots, rejoice in their commonalities, and ultimately broaden their thinking to embrace new realities.I first got to know this remarkable man back when we first started the London Food Bank in 1987. He asked me to come to the Jewish Centre to speak to his young people about social justice and the responsibility for people of faith to reach out of their own comfort zones. He delighted in his Jewish history and traditions, of which he was a scholar, and believed they had much to offer the broader community. Low-key and quiet, he nevertheless possessed a determined and quick mind. Following the 9/11 attacks in the U.S., he immediately reached out in cooperation with the city's Muslim community to provide solace and defense, thereby smoothing over what could have been deep wounds locally. You just could never keep him in a box; his faith was meant to stretch and he took many along with him.Rabbi Wittstein passed away on Thursday and I spent a part of today in sadness and remembrance with the Jewish community as they said farewell to a champion. Looking over the the standing room only crowd, I was drawn in by their collective tears and joy. This was no ordinary funeral. Each person in the room had not only been touched but expanded by the one they were remembering. Somehow they were baptized into the same sense of noble humanity as a community in mourning. In those rare, wonderful moments, we were all Jewish - the kind of faith that says "welcome" and in which you felt and sensed the pain of loss and the reawakening of new channels of inspiration.An old Jewish proverb was mentioned and it stuck with me: "We fear to love what death can touch." And yet we do it. All of our days are numbered and still we love what inspires us. Wittstein's community is now undergoing the searing pain resulting from having loved such a man. Yet they took him to their hearts willingly because of his uniqueness of character and commitment of being. I didn't know him as well as they, but today I too felt his loss because I could sense it in all those around me.We as MPs have the responsibility of overseeing entire constituencies numbering tens of thousands of people. It's a humbling thing. And yet wherever there is a Joel Wittstein, there is always the constant reminder to every MP that it is to such men and women as these that the community owes its best moments and tolerant behaviour. Every community is strong, regardless of their political representation, who has a Joel Wittstein in its midst. His community mourned today, and I with them. But what was obvious as well was the reality that they were capable of mourning so deeply because he had stretched their minds and spirits to new depths. A remarkable man. A remarkable Jewish community. A remarkable legacy.