The Simchat Bat of Liba Shifra – Libby Jane Hurwitz

August 6, 2006

Thank you to my parents, my in-laws, sisters, my and Libby’s Aunt’s, Uncles, & cousins. Most of all a thank you to my husband. Every night my father used to sing to us about Daddy’s little girl. Now it resounds once again in my home. I laugh that I made such a big deal about Michael taking baby classes... after three weeks he’s professional father.

It is an honor and a pleasure to share the joy of bringing our little Libby Jane into the world. While there is no particular ceremony or ritual to follow for a simchat bat, I’d like to start by explaining Libby’s hebrew name - Liba Shifra, which was the name of my maternal grandmother. 

Liba comes from the word lev for heart and it means loved or beloved. One could just look at pictures my Uncle Lenny would take of my grandfather gazing at my Bobi while sitting on a park bench, or recall an image of Zaide kissing her hands, to capture how deeply she was treasured.

The meaning of the name Shifra is beautiful. From her sweet demeanor I think baby Libby personifies her name with a beautiful heart. 

Let me share some of the attributes of my Bobi that I hope to instill in Libby. 

Bobi was the core of our family. She and my Zaide exemplified the courage and temerity of so many Holocaust survivors who came to the United States and built a new life from scratch. Her stories and anecdotes about life in the shtetl, made an uprooted family feel grounded with history and tradition.

At times it pained her to speak of the many loved ones who perished, or the fighting she endured alongside my grandfather as a partisan in the forest. But she always obliged. My Zaide’s stories were often punctuated by a shout to the kitchen, and her swift English translation of a Yiddish word or detail. 

Bobi had an unbelievable sense of humor. She would shake with laughter at the retelling of a funny story, like the time in Israel when my Uncle Manny and Zaide mistakenly traded pants and couldn’t understand why their clothes suddenly didn’t fit. Bobi laughed for years. 

Bobi was incredibly creative. She was a talented seamstress, often would recite poetry, and was an unbeatable cook. She would drop everything to prepare a favorite dish for any of her grandchildren, which if you poll us as a group would surely be kasha varnishkas. When I began commemorating her yarzheit with a shabbat dinner of her signature dishes, I realized quickly that even this basic staple was impossible to replicate to her perfection.

And most of all Bobi was devoted. Her children and grandchildren gravitated toward her as an anchor. She made each of us feel like the most important person in the world. Its clearly a quality she inspired in her children as I have watched my mother turn into Bobi Judy – who sweeps in with a batch of mandelbread, a goodie bag and an arsenal of stories and songs to entertain. Already baby Libby has shown a natural knack for curling up on my mother’s shoulder to the sound of aufen pripachik.

My relationship with my grandmother grew ever stronger as I grew older. Bobi had a special calendar on her refrigerator to remind her of the time for lighting Shabbat candles, but each week she would instead wait for my phone call just before sundown. “Zahavaleh, you made my shabbos” she would say and we’d hang up together and strike a match.

This past shabbat when I lit candles I finally found a few minutes to look at the torah portion. While I did not have the chance to delve too deeply. I was struck by two special things.

First, we have the pleasure of celebrating Libby on the weekend of Shabbat Nachamu. It is a special shabbat that follows the 9th of Av and the three weeks of mourning that commemorate the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. It was marked yesterday with a reading from the book of Isaiah which harkens a time of comfort and redemption. 

Undoubtedly the past three weeks have proven to be a dangerous and challenging time for Israel and the Jewish people. We hope that indeed this Shabbat Nachamu will bring strength and solace. 

Second, it happens to be a special Torah portion as well. Parshat Vaetchanan, in which Moses reviews the Ten Commandments. I immediately gravitated to #5. Honor your father and mother. It takes on a whole new meaning when you are on the receiving instead of the giving end. Stated the second time, the commandment has two noticeable differences. 

The first time the commandment appears in the book of Exodus, the pasuk says: “Kabed et avicha v’et imecha limaan yaarichun yamecha al ha’adama asher hashem elokecha noten lach.” Honor your father and mother that your days will be long upon the land that God has given you.

This time, in the book of Deuteronomy, the verse has two additions. The pasuk says:“Kabed et avicha v’et imecha ka’asher tzivcha hashem elokecha limaan yaarichun yamecha ulimaan yitav lach al haadama asher hashem elokecha noten lach.” Honor your father and mother, as God commanded you, that your days will be long and that it will be good for you, upon the land that God has given you.

From the first iteration, the promise of a long life seems like a powerful enough incentive to obey the commandment. The second time, the Torah adds both a Godly element and a lesson that bringing honor to one’s parents not only affects the quantity of your life, but the quality.

It makes me think of the wishes my Bobi Libby bestowed in the card she sent to me when I was born. To translate her Yiddish inscription, she wrote: “My adorable little girl, a blessing on your head. I wish your parents will have great nachas from you forever, Amen.”

I can’t think of a better blessing to pass along today.