Calm when it mattered

I am absolutely heartbroken over the death of Paul Reichenbach. His remarkable, meaningful life and impact merit volumes of tributes. Let me share just two memories and a short observation.

First. I was someplace in New Jersey for a friend’s wedding when Paul’s name showed up on my phone. I was the URJ’s “crisis communications guy,” so when Paul called over Shabbas, it was never good news.

And it was not that day.

He was calling to tell me that lightning had struck our camp in Indiana [injury details omitted]. The incident had happened about 25 minutes earlier, and Paul was already walking into Newark Airport and on his way. Paul wanted me out there to help with communications, so 45 minutes later I, too, was pulling up to the airport.

I don’t remember a lot about the next 72 hours. I hope I was helpful. I know I made hundreds of phone calls. I do have two clear memories.

The first was Paul being in charge. His leadership was never (OK, rarely!) heavy-handed. People naturally looked to him for leadership. He stepped in and handled everything around the incident, allowing the camp staff to focus on a traumatized camp community. His very presence strengthened the rest of us.

The second was Paul’s concern for, and support of, the family of the camper [injury detail omitted]. He had to deal with insurance companies and the press and the rest of the staff, but there was not a moment when Paul was not thinking about [name omitted]. It wasn’t a one-time thing, or something that ended when the crisis did. Paul built a friendship with that family that lasted for years.

Second. Paul’s voice was as outsized as his impact. We heard it a lot at Biennial, where he was the “voice of God,” and I sometimes heard it echoing through the hallways at 633 Third Avenue. That was especially true late at night, when no one else was around and Paul was managing NFTY in Israel, NFTY in Europe, and summer camps.

I have such a clear memory of sitting at his desk one night. Everyone else had gone home. There was some kind of fighting going on in Israel. I don’t remember which flare-up; it doesn’t matter.

What I remember is Paul at his desk. Battle station.

Some group of “our” kids was having trouble getting out of Israel, and he was on the case. He may have chartered a jet. I’m not sure. But Paul got those kids to Geneva and into a hotel. He spoke to all of their parents. He made sure the staffing was appropriate. And he did all of that in an amazing set of round-robin phone calls: airline, hotel, parents, Israel staff, URJ leadership, over and over. All the while staying calm, reassuring everyone, exuding confidence.

That was Paul.

And that’s why, when my own daughter was in Israel on the URJ’s high school program and fighting broke out, I knew we didn’t need to panic. Paul was worrying enough for all of us.

A final thought. Paul was a remarkable Jewish leader. He modeled Jewish leadership in ways large and small. As a non-rabbi working in a world full of rabbis (so many rabbis!), Paul was a great example for me. He showed me that I could step up and be a leader. And be a teacher. Make no mistake: although he may have bristled at the sentence, Paul was very much a teacher of Torah. And Paul’s Torah was powerful, important, and long-lasting.

Paul is, rightfully, being remembered tonight by his friends and colleagues. He was a great friend and a great colleague. But I’m thinking tonight not only of his family and our colleagues, but of the tens of thousands of people, literally around the world, whose lives were touched by Paul’s work and who never met him or knew his name.

What a legacy.

His memory is a blessing indeed.