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Shalom,

How does someone sum up a man's life in a few minutes? His relationship to his friends, to his family, the effect he had on people? Where do you start?

I will only touch on a few impressions that come to mind. We could really talk for hours about the things he said and the way he lived.

Traditionally, the Rabbi finds out a few things about the man and he speaks of him. He eulogizes him and makes complimentary references. With all due respect to Rabbi Wallack, with whom I spoke on the phone and met today for the first time, he does not know Papa, and we do, and Rabbi, I'm sorry you didn't know him. You would have been truly impressed. My words will be more of a tribute of thanks.

I will refer to Papa as Papa even though to some of you, he is grandfather, great-grandfather, father-in-law, friend and acquaintance.

I will often refer to him in the present tense because in many of our hearts and minds, he still is. As I speak these words, I speak for Beatrice, Sam Gil and myself.

We are proud he was our father and, he, in turn, was proud of his children.

Papa was a rich man. Rich in his understanding and wisdom. He had a zest for living. He smiled freely, spoke fluently, communicated well, had a refreshing wit and a keen memory. He was a gentleman and a gentle man. He brought sunshine into people's lives.

He was a religious man and was close to God. As religious as he was, he sincerely accepted all people and their religions.

When we were kids, he taught us well. We weren't aware we were being taught. He set an example for us and we didn't even know it. He gave us something – something we can be proud of. It happened to us and we didn't realize it.

Papa was a man of graciousness and charm. Wherever he went, he made friends. All of my life I remember him surrounded by friends. He had so many of them. Good friends with whom he had beautiful strong bonds. He gave much to these friends and they gained so much from him.

He was a good man; an honest man. He never lied.

What a spirit he had for living! How active he was! Even in hard times – the depression, the responsibility of a family, personal tragedies, illnesses, he always maintained an optimistic and enthusiastic outlook.

Wherever he went, he met people, spoke with them and they liked him. Always, in strange cities, it was amazing how he would find someone he knew or a landsman.

And the stories he would tell. He told stories vividly and would bring incidents and people into sharp focus and bring them back to life. He narrated fascinating stories of his life in Europe, his early days in America and later, the fascinating stories of the Israel he loved so much.

As well as being a delightful story-teller and singer, he was an attentive listener. He loved and enjoyed listening to people who had something to say. If we can identify or

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focus in one statement that represented his philosophy of life, it is that: “You can always learn something from somebody, even the smallest child”.

And oh, how he loved to travel! His wealth of stories included when he was a little boy; how he travelled with his father in a cart pulled by horses from their small town of Yavorov to Lemberg and how he looked forward to and loved the all-night bumpy ride over dirty roads.

He never stopped travelling. All of his life, he was always going someplace. From the cart, he graduated to the ship, the train, the bus and finally the jet, making friends wherever he went. He had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and a tremendous curiosity to see different places and people. He was not a passive person. He was an active man.

Just recently, when he returned to Israel last June, he had a one-night stopover in Copenhagen. Instead of going to the hotel and resting, he toured Copenhagen and he wrote me how he loved it and would have liked to spend more time there. This was a man who, at that time, just turned 90 years of age.

Although he had man years, Papa was never feeble. He was a man capable of refusing to accept age as a number. He truly lived “You're as old as you act and feel”.

His mind never became senile. To the day he passed away, he was a sharp and bright as always. He had confidence in himself and goodness in his heart.

In 1961, he was offered the opportunity to visit the Holy Land of Israel. So many times, he confided: “why me?” Of all of his family, his parents, brothers and sisters who always said: “Eretz Yisrael”, he wondered why did God give him the privilege to be the one to experience the Holy Land? God knows”.

He made many trips back to America because he was basically a family man and he loved and missed his family. Papa was a humble man. He respected education and he gave “Kuvitt” (honour) to those he felt knew more than he did.

He was also a proud man. Even with his awareness of his lack of formal education, he had the confidence and intelligence that he could mingle and communicate with anyone . . . and he did. He felt and enjoyed the respect he received from so many people.

His education in America consisted of one night in night school and he always boasted because of his night school experience. He could read and write better . . . at night!

In reality, he was a remarkably self-educated man – a home-spun philosopher – a very interesting person.

In Israel, he found the love and respect he deserved. He made wonderful friends who genuinely loved him. So many regarded him as their father, and in the last few years, they would make sure they saw him each day, or phone him each day to assure themselves of his well-being.

I remember when visiting him in Israel. When we walked down the street, it was an exhilarating experience of love, honour and respect. People would come out of stores to greet him. Shopkeepers, bank manager, post office clerks, and every said: “What a wonderful man your father is”. He was a nice man.

If this service were in Israel now, this chapel would be packed with hundreds of his friends.

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Because he was good to people, it came back. It came back in a long life with many happy and self-fulfilling moments.

Papa was never boring. You didn't have to worry about conversation when he was around. He took care of his share. He always had a joke, an anecdote, a parable or a song to associate with any situation. His greatest pleasure was being with people, kidding with them and laughing with them. He was people oriented.

He was a man who kept abreast of the times. You could discuss almost any topic with him. Politics, education, theatre. I loved his theatrical stories about eh Jewish theatre in New York. He saw Thomashefsky, Adler, Kessler, Schwartz and Muni as a child. But his favourite topic was human relationships. He was a good listener and interested in everything. If he didn't understand, he questioned. What a joy to have around!

He had a keen perception of world events and in many instances, he was away ahead of his times.

He was a good teacher and didn't even know it. He told us such beautiful biblical stories about Joseph and his coat of many colours, Moses and the burning bush, the exodus of the Jews as slaves in Egypt, Abraham and the beginning of the Jewish faith, Jacob, Isaac, Rachel. He told us about Samson and Delilah, Haman and Queen Esther. He told his stories with such clarity, reality and simplicity. We were receiving our religious training and culture without even knowing it. He left us a large inheritance and a valuable heritage.

Papa was a man of elegance. He carried himself well. He was clean, fastidious and proud to be well dressed.

Papa was blessed. In all of his letters he mentioned that he was blessed by God for good children who made possible his survival and happiness.

He loved and appreciated nature. He loved fruit trees and it delighted him to pick fruit and berries directly from the tree and vine.

I remember sitting in the car with him at Fallbrook Square and he commented and marvelled at the beautiful flowering oleander trees lining the parking lot. I had been there dozens of times and had never noticed the trees. What a gift he had of looking and really seeing.

Papa had great courage and faith. So many of his stories dealt with “God will help”. Do you remember the story of poor Moshkovitz and the monkey who at all the rich man's money? I haven't thought of that story in years.

Even during the depression when we were so poor, come Sunday morning and we always had fresh rolls, white fish or sturgeon and sour pickles. How did he manage this.

When you think of Papa, you think of Beatrice. There was meaning in his life in the form of Beatrice. All of us who know her, know how much she has done for him; She sustained him and gave him life. Her devotion to him was out of love and compassion and what better way to give of yourself than to give your love to another human being.

Do you remember, about 3 or 4 years ago, Papa came home sick. His head was bent and he could not walk. The doctors gave up on him but not Beatrice. She fed him, not only food but so many words. Oh, how she talked to him and he listened.

She told him he will hold his head up and to look up, and he will straighten up and regain his health and return to his beloved Israel. He heard her, and he did.

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Those of us who were at the airport to see him off, remember him – his hat at a rakish angle, his cane draped over his arm and the wave of his hand as he departed. It is that image that I will keep of him.

Beatrice gave willingly out of love and devotion. She gave of herself. She made him happy but it also gave her great happiness and gave her life meaning to do the things she did. I envy her sensitive inner vision, her unfaltering faith and her tremendous strength. I envy them both – Papa and her.

Please don't be sad. Be happy. Be happy we had the opportunity to know him and be part of his life.

He is here. He is still with us; he is on another trip, a blessed one. And, wherever he goes, I'll bet you 8 to 5 he is telling his stories and singing his songs.

Shalom,
Mendie Koenig
February 27, 1978

Yaacov Lajbisz Koenig z”l (first from the right) coming to pray at the Western Wall

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