The legacy of Robin Williams –by Rabbi Stephen Wise
August 16, 2014 – 20 Av 5774
The modern Hebrew poet Hayim
Nahman Bialik put it this way:
There
was a man -- and see: he is no more!
Before his time did this man depart
And the song of his life in its midst was stilled
And alas! One more tune did he have
And now that tune is forever lost
Forever lost!
Before his time did this man depart
And the song of his life in its midst was stilled
And alas! One more tune did he have
And now that tune is forever lost
Forever lost!
I was shocked when I heard
Robin Williams died. He is probably one
of the most loved comedians and entertainers, hysterically funny, zany and
brilliant. We will miss him, I already
do.
People of my generation grew up with Robin Williams. His frenetic humor, the dizzying runs of free-association, resonated across all ages; as children, we didn’t get all his jokes but we knew it was amazing. He had the ability to make us laugh and cry. At the end of Mrs. Doubtfire, after making us laugh as he acts like an old Scottish Nanny for half the movie, he moves us to tears about how much he loves his children. He was a genie in the bottle for the Aladdin movie, the first time I really remember a funny Disney character whose voice made the film come alive for me. He was Peter Pan in Hook able to re imagine what Peter might be like as an adult trying to recapture his childhood. I loved his genius in Patch Adams as a doctor healing through laughter. And his Oscar winning role as a psychiatrist in Good Will Hunting helping the Matt Damon character overcome his inner demons and finally breaking free into a life filled with love and purpose. The first war movie I remember seeing was Good Morning Vietnam, and he was so funny, I bought the album and memorized all his lines. Dead poet’s society moved me in profound ways, and the way he reached his students actually influenced the way I wanted to be a teacher when I did my masters of education degree.
In some ways, I think of Robin Williams as an honourary Jew.
He could effortlessly drop Yiddishisms into any conversation, he could perfectly
articulate the accent of an old Jewish man and he had countless close friends
and colleagues who were members of the tribe. Apparently his affection and
support for Judaism ran deeper as the New York Jewish Week reported, Williams attended
13 Bar Mitzvahs in the eighth grade while growing up in Detroit. Williams
provided the comedy at the 2005 annual banquet of the Spielberg’s Survivors of
the Shoah Foundation, leaving everyone in stitches; offending no one and remained
at the banquet long after the headliners left. When Spielberg was filming
“Schindler’s List,” Williams called him every day during the production to
“brighten the director’s mood.” Indeed the Jewish Federations of North America noted
on their facebook page “We mourn the loss of the great actor, comedian Robin
Williams, zichrono li-veracha, “may his memory be a blessing.
A few years ago on “Inside
the Actors Studio,” host James Lipton asked Williams the final question on the
Proust Questionnaire: “If heaven exists, what would you like to hear at the
pearly gates?” “First, I’d like to have
a front row seat,” he smiled. “It would be nice to know that there’s laughter.
And it would be nice to hear G-d say, ‘Two Jews go into a bar . . . ’”
I think there some things to take from his life that can guide our lives today.
The first is that he brought laughter and joy to so
many. His used so many tones of
traditional Jewish comedy. As Rabbi Evan
Moffic wrote,
He
used Humor to undermine pretension and pomposity: Robin Williams managed to
be lovable and irreverent at the same time. He did not fear offending anyone.
As one of his obituaries reported, he once called out
from a London Stage,“Chuck, Cam, great to see you.” Charles, Prince of Wales, and his
wife, Lady Camilla Bowles were in the audience. He continued, “Yo yo, wussup
Wales, House of Windsor, keepin’ it real!”
He
used comedy to heal. Jewish history is filled
with destruction. Hatred and persecution have plagued us for so long, and they
continue to do so in the Middle East and Europe.
One of the great healing balms of Jewish life has been
humor. It has helped us maintain perspective, seeing possibilities for joy
amidst pain, for sweetness amidst the harshness of life.
Robin Williams’ humor—along with his many acting
roles—helped heal so many. His life mirrored the role he played so beautifully
of Patch Adams, the doctor who used humor to heal his patients.
He
used Comedy as a way of poking fun at ourselves: Robin Williams knew his own
foibles. He did not shy away from admitting his struggles with addiction and
relationships.
And he would turn those struggles into brilliant
one-liners. Indeed, he once described cocaine as “God’s way of saying you make
too much money.”
The second lesson was can take away from his death is knowing that he was a mensch, in the sense that he was one who struggles. We know now that this was an internal struggle behind closed doors, that Robin Williams struggled with mental health and addiction issues for many many years and to which he eventually succumbed. Perhaps it will prompt us in the Jewish community and the wider community, to deal more seriously with mental illness. This includes depression but also bi-polar, schizophrenia, PTSD and addiction. We as Ashkenazic Jews are more prone and clinical trials have shown its in our DNA.
Rabbi Jeff Salkin wrote a
brilliant piece this week in the Jewish news about William’s struggle with
mental illness and showed that in our history there are many Jewish heroes who
suffered similarly. Moses seemed to have
struggled with a kind of depression – and anxiety, about representing God,
constantly feeling that he was letting them or God down, and weighed down by
the immense task of leading the people to freedom. The prophet Elijah seems to have suffered
from depression. He flees from the homicidal wrath of Queen Jezebel, finds
himself at Horeb (Mount Sinai), and crawls into a cave -- either crawling back
into the womb or looking forward to the tomb (I Kings 19). Some say that the
prophet Ezekiel struggled with mental illness. The Psalmist had his demons.
Just one example: “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil
within me? (Psalms 42:11)
Many Hasidic rebbes struggled
with depression. Elie Wiesel devoted his book Four Hasidic Masters and
Their Struggle Against Melancholy to their storiesReb Nachman of Breslov
famously battled the forces of depression, and his prayers and meditations are
“gentle weapons” in that struggle. It appears that the great Zionist Theodor
Herzl was given to bouts of inner darkness, and he passed on this tragic legacy
to his children and grandchildren. Moshe Dayan struggled with depression; when
he was Army Chief of Staff, Yitzhak Rabin suffered a nervous breakdown.
We know there is a veil of
secrecy, shame and stigma when it comes to mental illness. If someone breaks a foot playing hockey there
is no shame we sign their cast. When someone
breaks their soul having put too much strain on it, let there be no shame there
as well. We want our synagogue to be a
place of healing. One way is in our
liturgy when we offer the Mi Sheberach prayer for healing, we ask God to grant
healing of the body, and the mind and the soul.
When thinking of Robin
Williams, he had to hide his inner demons and be a comedian on the outside. He loved to make others happy even if he was
not always happy on the inside.
The Talmud (Ta’anit 22a) tells
the story that, one day, when Rabbi Baroka was in the marketplace, he
encountered Elijah and asked him: “Who among these people will have a share in
the world to come?” Elijah pointed to two men, and replied: “Those two.” Baroka
asked them: “What is your occupation?” They replied, “We are clowns. When we
see someone who is sad, we cheer him up. When we see two people quarreling, we
try to make peace between them.”
Maybe right about now, Robin
Williams is sitting in the World To Come entertaining The Holy One, “who in
enthroned in the heavens and laughs” (Psalm 2:4).
He fulfilled the definition of a successful life captured
so brilliantly by Ralph Waldo Emerson:
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn
the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To
appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better,
whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; To
know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have
succeeded.
Zichrono livracha, may his name always be remembered as a
blessing.