Bernard Axelrad Scholarship Fund

As is my wont, whenever my wife and I travel to foreign climes, I check out the shuls, mostly at a Shabbat morning service. It often leads to such interesting experiences as being kissed on both cheeks by the men (the women were all upstairs) after an aliyah in a shul in Bordeaux, in lieu of the usual congratulatory handshake; or never understanding a word of the Scottish accented talk in an Edinburgh shul and then feeling perfectly at home with the entire davening and Torah reading service, so like my own shul.

Less than one year ago I had a most unforgettable experience. While staying at an apartment on Emek Refaim in Jerusalem, I walked over to a small, undistinguished shul nearby for evening services and encountered Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, the renowned Talmud Scholar, among the Minyan. This most famous translator of the Torah and winner of the Israel Prize was accessible, witty and generous with his time in conversation. It was another in a series of thrilling and interesting experiences while attending shul services in other lands.

But in January 1996 came one of my most memorable experiences. My wife and I were enthralled with a brochure advertising a Southeast Asian trip, an area we had never been to. Singapore, Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, Hong Kong all were alluring, but the centerpiece was a stop in Rangoon. There was one problem: my dear (and only) brother's Yahrzeit is on January 18 (26th day of Tevet) while on the trip. Anxiously I went through the brochure to see where we would be on the 18th, hoping it would be in Singapore, Hong Kong or even Bangkok - places where I felt I could find a shul to say the Yahrzeit Kaddish.

As luck would have it, my Yahrzeit on January 18th was the day we would be in Rangoon, also known as Yangon. All of Burma (Myanmar) was pretty well closed to the outside world since the British left in 1948. The military dictatorship running the country required special visas for entry, even on a limited visit.

Knowing all this, I cursed my luck that the one day of my Yahrzeit would be in Rangoon. While I was determined not to miss this trip I almost gave up on the possibility of a) finding a shul in Rangoon, b) that would be open, and c) gathering a minyan for my Kaddish.

When I got the roster of my travel group, my heart sank - where would I find a minyan among the Uphams, Whitmans, McKays, Johnsons, Kellys and Kirkpatricks who mostly filled the passenger list of our Burma Passage trip.

Hope, however, springs eternal and I vowed to do the best I could. At the very least, I had brought along a Yahrzeit lamp to commemorate the occasion in our stateroom. Then the miracle began to unfold, step by step.

We acquired from the tour director a street map of central Rangoon, and much to our astonishment, saw a Synagogue listed thereon. We later learned it had been built at the time when the British were in charge and that it was no longer operative - with the possible exception of an occasional High Holiday service when enough Jews were on duty at the embassy staffs of the American and Israeli consulates.

Request was then made of the ship tour director to determine if some of us on board could view the inside of the Synagogue while we were in port. A representative was flown into Rangoon from Phuket Island, Thailand (where we were sailing at the time), to make the necessary inquiry; and she returned with the information that the caretaker or trustee, Moses Samuels, would have the Musmeah Yeshua Synagogue at No. 85 26th Street in Yangon, Myanmar, open for 2 hours of viewing on the afternoon of January 18, 1996.

Since there were only 8 Jews living in Rangoon (we were subsequently told by Moses Samuels, a native) and our tour complement would provide few likely minyanites, I still had need of special assistance to accomplish the mission.

Then help came from an unexpected source.

A small contingent of travelers had joined the cruise, but were not part of our tour group, and among them were a number of Jewish men and women flowing in to view this lovely, well-maintained not often-used Synagogue. When I saw them my eyes lit up and I knew I had my minyan. Standing at the door (just to make sure) in a loud voice I then explained my need for a minyan while I said the Kaddish. They were more than happy to oblige.

So there I stood in the Musmeah Yeshua Synagogue in Rangoon, surrounded by fellow Jews chanting the response at all the right places, while I said the Kaddish for my dear brother (who was killed at 19 in the Battle of the Bulge in January 1945).

It was a notable and unforgettable and most unlikely experience. The odds of achieving my goal were astronomically against me and I truly believe that I had divine assistance to accomplish my mission.

What had started out as an Impossible Dream became a Daunting Task and finally a Triumphant Reality.