BRUCE KESLER
February 3, 2014
Mensch is a Yiddish word that means "a person of integrity." A mensch
is someone who is responsible, has a high sense of right and wrong and
lives that way, and is the sort of person other people look up to. It
is one of the very highest compliments that can be said about someone.
My friend, US born and raised Barry Rubin, who passed away
yesterday, was a mensch. Barry Rubin for decades was a leading scholar
on the Middle East, former professor, widely published in major
newspaper and blog columns, author of many books, leader of research
institutes, and counselor to others around the world. Indeed, on this
last point, the extent of his secret and frank communications with
people in Moslem countries whose views varied from Barry's is an
important indicator of how well respected he was as well as the depth
of the well from which he drew his insights.
There are informative obits at The Jerusalem Post and The Jewish Press. You will be seeing many more obituaries and remembrances at many other locations. Here, for example, is Roger Simon at PJ Media.
That is considered one of the measures of a life's worth, what is left
behind for the benefit of the remaining generations. Barry's insights
and the decent way he went about delivering them is quite a heritage.
Barry and I corresponded for many years. We had some mutual friends.
Whenever I emailed Barry a question, I received a quick and helpful
reply, regardless of how busy he was. In fact, busy was another of
Barry's hallmarks, tirelessly always writing, speaking, reaching out.
Several years ago Barry was on a US speaking tour and came to San Diego
to speak before a large group. Barry came with me to my synagogue on
Sabbath, spent time with our very knowledgable Rabbi and spoke to the
congregation. He had others to meet also, so I became his chauffeur for
a few days and during our hours together discussed a wide range of
subjects. He soaked up others' views and could describe almost anything
succinctly (less discursive than in his columns). The one personal
favor he asked was to be taken to San Diego's model railway museum,
where his face lit up like a child.
Last April my sons and I went to Israel for my elder son Jason's Bar
Mitzvah. After touring the rest of the country, we spent a day and
evening with Barry. Barry's family apartment is designed like a
walk-through railway flat. The large front parlor was full of two
miniature railroads and panoramas that Barry had built. Barry took a
lot of time to speak with Jason as we strolled around the older, more
historic parts of Tel Aviv. Barry's face glowed, and I heard him recite
it in a murmur,as we stood in Tel Aviv's old city hall and listened to
a tape of David Ben Gurion's declaration of independence speech for
Israel's creation as a modern state. Barry's son -- also nearing Bar
Mitzvah age-- joined us at dinner. Exhibiting his father's curiosity,
Barry's son grilled me about weapons used in Vietnam. I quickly told
him that he already knew more than I did. One could expect no less from
Barry's son.
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