Issue link: https://viewer.e-digitaledition.com/i/698448
June 30 • 2016 5 for openers In Celebration Of Mistakes I t happened ages ago, but it's an anec- dote that still makes me smile. Twenty years back, my cousin Elwin attended a Chabad wed- ding. The music began and the groom was walked down to the chuppah, flanked by his father and father-in-law, all looking pensive. The melody was soul- stirring and the crowd, a sea of swaying, singing bearded men in black jackets and black hats, were walking slowly behind them. Finding himself in the direct path of the crowd, Elwin quickly backed up against the row of pay phones (remember them?!) as the Men in Black marched by. At that moment, Elwin's attention was caught by a woman, hand over one ear as she yelled into a phone: "Girl! I can't hear you. There's an Amish funeral coming through!" My neighbor recently made me smile, too. He's 14 months old and the other day he toddled over to me, tugged on my skirt and held out his hands. I said, "Um … me? Are you sure?" and that's when he looked up, realized I wasn't his mother and hurried away in search of her. But he had officially made my day. I mean, if he thinks my legs are as skinny as his mother's, I'm quite flattered! There's just something about honest mistakes. They make people smile. Or grimace. Like the time my husband idly picked up the ther- mometer and was about to place it under his tongue when I told him I had just gotten my son's rectal tem- perature with it … It's kind of like the guy who stayed at his friend's apartment and found a spare toothbrush behind the bathroom mirror. He wrote his friend a note explaining he'd used it and hoped that was OK. His friend responded it didn't bother him at all, that was the toothbrush he cleaned the fish tank with … Mistakes are great; we have them in common; they unite us as humans. It's so much fun to laugh at people's mistakes — even your own. A few months ago, I tried a new challah recipe that called for letting the dough rise in a (clean!) garbage bag. It was only later I realized I'd used a Febreze-scented gar- bage bag. I figured what's a few extra cents (scents!) when you're rolling in dough anyhow!? Once, I was lying down, half asleep, and felt a little tickle on my foot. Although I was confident it was a stray hair or loose thread, I climbed out of bed, switched on the light — and discovered a huge spider in my bed. The size of my fist, at least! And like my 14-month-old neighbor, he had an expression that said, "Wrong legs! I thought you were a water spout!" One thing many of us have in common is memory foibles, like walking purposely into a room and not remembering why. Recently, I checked my account balance online and was confused to realize it was $500 less than I expected. I called the bank and they said, "Um. You were here at 9:15 a.m. and made a withdrawal." It was 9:30. It had been 15 measly minutes before, and I hadn't remembered! Mistakes make people smile — usually other people. Sometimes you need time to pass before you find your own mistake amusing, but don't let too much time pass because you might forget. I mean, if you're like me and forget transactions 15 minutes after you've done them, you probably won't remember your stories unless you write them down. And now you know why I write the articles I do! * Rochel Burstyn I n the wee hours of the morning, a man with an immigrant background intent on transforming himself into a killer walked into a crowded gathering place, populated with people whom he did not know personally but whom he abhorred just for the group to which they belonged. The man, who had a connection to extremist religious groups that prioritize coreligionists over all others and advocate for blatantly racist and violent political actions, had a history of making discriminatory com- ments about the group he targeted. He had expressed public outrage at their actions, voicing a belief that what they did violated the morals and tenets of his own religion and that religious dictate required him to shun them. On that fateful early morning, the man walked into that place — one that symbolizes so well the country's divide on social and political issues — carrying a semi-automatic assault rifle that he had legally procured. He took out his weapon and, firing into an unsuspecting crowd of hundreds that never in a thousand years would have imagined that this personal sanctuary would be the site of their last moments on Earth, killed dozens of people and wounded scores more. The killer him- self did not survive his own carnage and was justifiably killed in a counter-assault aimed at halting the ongoing massacre. How do we decide what factors are to blame for this truly horrific tragedy? Lots of it depends on one's frame of reference. The description in the above paragraph is obviously referring to Omar Mateen, who mowed down 49 people in Orlando at the gay nightclub Pulse. But it just as easily refers to Baruch Goldstein, who walked into the mosque section of the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron on Purim morn- ing in 1994 and killed 29 worshippers at morning prayers. Most people would have similar reactions to these two acts, but many wouldn't; and the question is whether our own biases and sympathies lead us astray in thinking about terrorism and what is behind it. For starters, it seems clear that both Mateen and Goldstein perpetrated acts of religiously motivated terrorism. Both men had links to, or at the very least declared an allegiance to, a group that carries out violence in the name of religion. I don't mean to equate ISIS with the Kahane movement since they are miles apart in terms of ideology, purpose, brutality and tactics. But both groups instrumentalize religion for political purposes, and it raises difficult questions as to how to think about the role of religion in violence. If someone commits an act of terrorism, designed to inflict mass casualties and send a larger message, and he does so out of religious fervor, no matter how mis- guided that fervor may be, it should not be controversial to link the act to the ideol- ogy behind it. It beggars belief to insist that religion had absolutely no bearing on Mateen's motivation whatsoever and it is just a coincidence or a red herring or a cover for other more salient motivations, and we should be willing to heap the same scorn on those who separate Goldstein from Judaism entirely. Michael J. Koplow commentary Nothing Is Black And White continued on page 6 viewpoints » S e n d l e t t e r s t o : l e t t e r s @ t h e j e w i s h n e w s . c o m letters Picking Up Pieces After The '67 Riot My father, Edwin Glanz, owned and oper- ated a small, one-man printing opera- tion at 12048 12th St. in Detroit that was his father Harry's before him and was there since the 1910s, H. Glanz and Sons Printing. The "shop" is what we called it, and the 1967 riot left an indelible impression upon me ("Understanding The 1967 Riot," June 23, page 14). While heeding the imposed curfew, upon hearing the news of the riot, my father and I subsequently took a drive down to the shop after the smoke had cleared some days later. The National Guard escorted us to the building and, yes, it was still standing, though charred from the fire. Through the broken glass we walked in and looked around and up at the ceiling where there was water dripping in all over the printing presses and paper. It was a mess to say the least. A few minutes had gone by and a National Guardsman had come back to see if we were ready to go and asked my father, "What are you going to do?" My father said without a moment of hesitation, "What am I going to do? My son and I are going to clean this place up as best as we can, and then I am going to put this place back together." He was part of that community. His business was part of that neighborhood for more than 50 years at the time of the riot and remained there until he passed away in 1977. I can't help but wonder, if at the time others had put their places back together, well, maybe the neighborhoods would have come back stronger. Just maybe. Harry J. Glanz West Bloomfield Yad Ezra Supporter Is Remembered In regards to your article on the dedica- tion of the greenhouse at Yad Ezra ("Open House," June 16, page 22), in addition to the dedication of the actual greenhouse, a mezuzah was placed on its door dedicated to the memory of Susan Lawrence. Susan, an active Yad Ezra volunteer and donor, had listed only Yad Ezra as her beneficiary upon her untimely death last February. Caron Goldfine Farmington Hills More letters are on page 8.