Eighteen years ago Rabbi
Martin Penn was at the top of the
world. At the age of 45, he was already
considered a legendary Canadian human rights activist, having played a critical
role in the movement to free Jews from the former Soviet Union. He was thriving
as the spiritual leader of Congregation Shomrim Laboker in Côte des Neiges, a
profession he had chosen late in life for most people who have followed this
route. But perhaps his proudest moment was fatherhood and following years of
efforts he and his wife adopted a baby boy from Eastern Europe. Life couldn’t
be better.
 |
| Rabbi Martin Penn |
One day Marty began
complaining about headaches. Soon after he had difficulty even buttoning
his shirt. These signs, sadly, were the
precursors of a debilitating stroke which would rob this brilliant orator of
his ability to speak and to even walk properly.
In Judaism, 18 is the number that represents luck. In the case of Rabbi
Penn’s last 18 years on this earth, luck was certainly not on his side. Several
other illnesses followed. Last week he could fight no longer and he passed
away. It was not surprising to see a standing room only crowd at the Paperman
and Sons Funeral home.
Last week he could fight no longer and he passed away. Marty was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in June 2010. For 52 weeks every Monday he underwent chemotherapy. The fighter always, he battled his cancer week after week with the tremendous courage and strength he had shown his entire life. He lost his battle to bone marrow cancer on his 63 rd birthday.
Rabbi Mordechai Zeitz
of Beth Tikvah Congregation in Dollard des Ormeaux, a long-time friend of
Marty’s, recited the eulogy. “While I might have been a few years his senior,
he taught me so much,” said the rabbi, alluding to activism, perseverance and
how to meet a challenge.
I first got to know
Marty when I joined the Canadian Jewish Congress as national director of
communications in 1987. Marty had served
as the director of the Canadian Committee for Soviet Jewry for many years, but
had shifted to a volunteer role while he studied to become a rabbi.
There was a time when
the large Jewish community in the former Soviet Union simply could not leave
the country. They were called refuseniks (Soviet Jews denied permission to
emigrate) Marty worked tirelessly for this cause and there was a happy ending.
Jews were granted permission to leave if they so wished and did so in droves.
Marty achieved his dream of becoming a rabbi and he took to the pulpit like a natural.
Marty’s ex- wife Eileen Ornstein reflected on their life together. “When I met Marty in 1984, I was
impressed with his strength of character, sense of humour, devotion to causes
that mattered to him, and love of Judaism,” Eileen stated. “When he became ill
in 1994, he became a different kind of inspiration to many. He dealt with
health challenges with fierce determination. That strength carried him through
the next 18 years. In those difficult years, he learned to accept many things
about himself as well as others. The irony of his lack of speech was not lost
on anyone who had ever heard Marty’s eloquent sermons, Soviet Jewry harangues,
or just personal anecdotes. Now it was Marty’s turn to listen. And even without
very many words, he always managed to convey his feelings and opinions.”
Over the years Marty’s family and friends stood by him,
especially his sister Roslyn who devoted hours not only to his care and
personal well being, but researched
innovative techniques to find anything that might help in his recovery. Shelly Hershon, a saint of a human, noted: “I visited Marty once a week for the entire 18
years and I really looked forward to our get togethers."
Anna Fishman Gonshor, a
professor of Yiddish language and culture at McGill, noted “it is difficult to
imagine a world without Marty. He was one of those people who left his mark on
everyone who met him, worked with him, played with him, heard him speak. He was
bright, could be hysterically funny and seriously sober and sobering. He did so
much for us, personally and collectively. He was a teacher, a leader and an
incredible friend. His oratory inspired this community time and time again to
fight for freedom, to fight for what is right. We have lost a unique human
being.”
Jack Silverstone was
the executive director of Canadian Jewish Congress during Penn’s watch. “I knew
Marty for many years and then worked with him at CJC,” he said. “He was a
leader in an historical movement, the struggle to free the Jews of
the Soviet Union. He was tirelessly committed to the cause, even when
things looked very bleak and he inspired others with his eloquence and passion.
Rest in peace Marty, you earned it.”
Marty’s
fight to free Soviet Jews even took him behind closed doors at the Kremlin. As
Rabbi Zeitz explained, “he was even assaulted in Russia; beaten up on the
streets. He came back bloody and injured.”
Wendy
Litwack Eisen, one of the leaders of the Group of 35s Women’s Campaign for Soviet Jewry, had this to say: “I remember
fondly, a couple of years ago, when Marty was honoured and I came to Montreal
for that important occasion. I sat beside him during dinner and reminisced
about our years of planning Soviet Jewry demonstrations and some of the
memorable moments we had shared. The stories brought a smile to his face and
sometimes, tears to his eyes. Although Marty didn't qualify by gender, in his
soul he was a ‘35er.’ As mentor to the 'Group of 35s' Women's Campaign for
Soviet Jewry,' Marty helped to create slogans, paint signs and banners,
initiate and even participate in many of our zany demonstrations that were all
geared to draw public attention to the plight of our fellow Jews languishing
behind the Iron Curtain. If not with the 35s in the front lines, Marty was
behind the scenes, planning and helping to execute one demonstration after
another — outside the Soviet Consulate in Montreal or the Soviet Embassy in
Ottawa. He travelled with us to International meetings in Washington, New York,
Brussels, Israel. Marty's ideas and wise counsel played a significant role in
both our success and on the international Soviet Jewry advocacy stage. It was
Marty's intelligence, his warmth, his humour and his modesty that set him apart
from his peers. Whether speaking at a large Soviet Jewry rally, or from the
pulpit as a Rabbi, Martin Penn was a brilliant orator, who spoke from his
heart, without notes. It is tragic that this bright light was dimmed during his
last challenging years. The love and devotion of Marty's dear family and
dedicated friends were what sustained him — and how difficult it was for all of
you. I will remember the young, handsome, vibrant, witty Martin Penn. He was
the man whose contribution to the survival of our people will remain in the
memory of all who were privileged to know, to work with, and to love him.
It was
interesting that Marty was able to push out a few words. “Why, why, why?” he
would often state. That would be combined with the statement, “What can you
do?”
Rabbi
Zeitz interpreted the “Why, why why?” as
“Why have I been prevented from fulfilling my mission?” The rabbi added: “Without a voice and without
mobility he showed us.”
Marty’s
son Jeremy told Rabbi Zeitz how he never really got to see his dynamic father in
action. But in the same breath he remarked “he was my role model.”
I took the time to visit with Marty a number of times as he
battled his illness. Two years ago, in
my capacity as a Côte Saint-Luc city councillor, I spearheaded an initiative
for us to honour the champions of oppressed Jewry in our Human Rights Walkway.
Marty was front and centre on that list and while he was not well enough to
attend the ceremony, there were many people in the audience who showed up to
celebrate his greatness in particular.
I am certain that very soon we will learn of somebody creating a
Rabbi Martin Penn Award. Rest in peace
Marty.
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