JEWISH WORLD

28 JEWISH WORLD • AUGUST 11-17, 2023 Institute, thanked the school for its commitment to the Resto- ration Project. “One of the central principles in Judaism is captured by the command. ‘Love your neighbor as yourself,’” he said. “The Talmud teach- es that in addition to loving our neighbors when they are still alive, we are com- manded to love our neighbors after they have passed away as well. Today, with this effort to restore the dignity of the ceme- tery, we are demon- strating our love of neighbor for individu- als who tragically did not receive the love that they deserved while they were alive or after they passed on. Although we can- not remedy the past, we as a community are showing our com- mitment to the future, sending the message that we still remember them—that their souls are not forgotten…. “The efforts to re- store the cemetery are part of our love of neighbor that we feel towards Central Islip. It is an expression of our commit- ment and connection to its histo- ry: ‘Love your neighbor as your- self.’” When the law school opened in 2007, its leadership was unaware that the cemetery was in its back- yard. The cemetery was the only part of the psychiatric center that remained after the building was demolished. Ken Rosenblum, the school’s associate dean of admissions at the time, recalled that shortly af- ter the school opened, he walked out the south door and saw a rust- ed fence at the end of the parking lot. As he walked past the fence and through overgrown brush, Rosenblum said he found him- self in what at first appeared to be simply an empty field. Then, however, he realized he was step- ping on graves and rectangular stones, which were flush with the earth and bore different numbers. In the distance, he saw two iron gates covered with vines, each marked with a rusting Star of David. The Jewish section of the cem- etery was a major part of the re- dedication ceremony. That ceme- tery was consecrated in 1980 by Lerer. Despite his advanced age (the rabbi is 94 years old), he was on hand for the rededication. He noted that when he first came to Pilgrim State in November 1995, “we had approximately 500 Jew- ish clients at this hospital.” “The very first shiva that I at- tended I was so embarrassed be- cause there was no religious ser- vice, no preparation of the body according to Jewish law,” he re- called. “And at that open grave, I took a pledge that as long as I’m the rabbi here, this will nev- er, ever happen again. I went to the New York Board of Rabbis of Long Island, and I said I have a serious problem. They wanted to give me money. I said I don’t want money; I need graves. I was running about three to five funer- als a month.” Several area synagogues of- fered their cemeteries, but be- cause of the large number of pa- tient deaths, none were able to accommodate them all, so Lerer approached the clinical director at Central Islip. “I explained to him that Jew- ish burial is a major, major com- ponent in returning the remains to the grounds and we need a cemetery….This is the cemetery we got, and it is the only Jewish cemetery on hospital grounds, as far as I know, in the entire United States. And I wanted to do monuments because that’s a rule as far as people are con- cerned who are buried there.” B ecause the state did not have money for monuments, Le- rer spoke with a former congre- gant of his in Stamford, Ct., the late Ben Manger, who gave him a check for $10,000. As a result, he said, “Every grave in the Jewish section has a formal monument with the pa- tient’s name, Hebrew date when they passed away, the English date, and at the bottom it says in Hebrew, `May the soul be bound up in the bond of eternal life for- ever.’” In addition, Manger included in his will a provision that Lerer was to receive $1,000 annually to use as the rabbi saw fit. Lerer then spoke movingly of a patient interred in the cemetery. He was a highly decorated sol- dier in World War II who crawled under a barbed wire fence during the war to reach a Nazi machine gun nest, into which he threw a hand grenade, killing “an untold number of Nazis.” After his death, Lerer said he learned that man had a sister liv- ing in the Rockaways. “I called her and offered my condolences,” he said. “She start- ed to cry. `I haven’t seen my brother in a long while. I had a stroke….’ I said, ‘Don’t worry.’ I called Shomrei Hadas Chapels and said, ‘When you go to bring the body of this man out to Cen- tral Islip, pick me up, and I want to come, and we’re going to bury him.’ But on the way, I stopped off at this apartment house where she lived. I went upstairs. We opened the door of the house, and at her bay window I conducted my first funeral for one person. I brought up a yahrzeit candle, I delivered a eulogy. We tore kriah [the ritual tearing of a mourner’s clothing) and I then went back down to bury him. As I looked up, she was waving to her brother.” Benjamin Pomerance, deputy director for program development for the New York State Division of Veterans Affairs, also spoke at the ceremony. He quoted from President Abraham Lincoln’s memorable November 1863 ad- dress at the military cemetery in Gettysburg: “The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.” Pomerance said the words be- came a “rallying cry of sorts, a mantra of sorts for generations to come. That phrase, `never forget,’ I thought of two years ago when at a New York State Veterans Ser- vice Commission meeting, Ken Rosenblum told us the story of this place….I and everyone pres- ent heard the stories and heard it, in particular in the context of vet- erans and military families, about veterans laid to rest in this hal- lowed ground without a marker to denote their name or without a memory of their military service or an acknowledgment of their military service. “And I think that all of us in that room in that moment made a silent vow that we must do something. And together with our colleagues and partners and state government, in particular the Of- fice of Mental Health, [we are at] this point today. And also with our colleagues at places like Tour Law Center, we have gotten to the point of finding a way to remem- ber and to never forget.” I n addition, Pomerance re- called the comments of an of- ficial from the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs who said that “no veteran ever really dies as long as there is some way in this world to keep that veteran’s memory alive.” “Those words echo in this place today,” Pomerance said. “What we are doing here today, this spe- cial act that we are conducting, is keeping those memories alive of those individuals who raised their right hand, swore that oath to protect and defend this country against all enemies foreign and domestic, and served with hon- or and distinction in carrying out those duties. This is our way of remembering them and also, in the course of that memory, thinking about the present and the future.… “When we think about the stories here, we think about the concept of veterans laid to rest without prior recognition, with- out names to denote their resting places, without a full understand- ing of the impacts of the trauma they experienced in their military service and the lasting effects of those traumas….And so, as we call them and honor their lives and celebrate their lives, remem- ber their service.” Rabbi Baruch Fogel, the cam- pus rabbi of Touro Law Center, concluded the program with the traditional prayer for the dead. Stewart Ain is a veteran journalist whose special focus throughout his career has been the American Jewish community. Rabbi Melvyn Lerer at the rededication. Thanks to his efforts, every grave in the Jewish section has a monument with the patient’s name and date of death. In 2013, the Touro Law Center partnered with the NY State Of ce of Mental Health to restore the cemetery and identify the graves. Cemetery continued from page 15