Photo courtesy Josh Murphy
Today was the funeral of Flory Jagoda. Much was said at her funeral, about all her accomplishments, and the power of her music. I don’t need to repeat any of that. I will share with you a few personal remembrances about her.
Flory lived a long and eventful life, until she was 97. I met her when she was 77, when I came to Arlington. She was the special guest in my installation as the rabbi of the then called Arlington-Fairfax Jewish Congregation. I had heard Flory’s songs before, yet the power of her live singing voice was amazing. Flory sang with her whole soul, and even the simplest of her tunes was a direct line of connection to the Divine. A few months into my tenure at the Synagogue, she made an appointment to see me. She wanted me to understand that the reason she did not come to Synagogue on a regular basis had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with her history. Flory was a Holocaust survivor, and that experience shaped her perception of the Eternal. We talked for a while that afternoon and continued talking for many years after. She liked that I listened to her and did not try to convince her to change her theology. And I loved listening to her points of view, to her wisdom, to her weaving of her personal and communal history into an everlasting tapestry. We became friends. Flory and her husband Harry came over a few times, I went over to their home many times. They had the most beautiful, loving relationship. Flory was convinced that I should also have the same kind of relationship that they had, indefatigably trying to find a match for me. Although she did not find me a match, Flory and Harry were one of the first people I shared the news of my pregnancy, and they were incredibly supportive of my initiative. They opened their hearts to me and to Benjamin without restraint.
I learned many lessons from Flory. She carried her story and her memories with her, keeping alive her culture and personal history, balanced with a great pride in her family and in her new country. She accepted praise with the clarity that she deserved it. She was an admirer of shoes that were comfortable AND beautiful, and she was adamant that one would not sacrifice comfort for style. She gave me great child-rearing advice, the main lesson being “just sing to him.” She was a great teacher. I remember when she got an honor from the Embassy of Bosnia, with the ceremony happening at the Synagogue. I was to introduce the cultural attaché. She first taught me how to say his name, and then proceeded to use his name 5 times in the next two sentences, so that I would pronounce his name correctly. I was grateful for this additional gift, the gift of being a good teacher, since she clearly signaled to me that she was taking the time to support me so I would succeed.
Flory was a blessing while she was walking this earth, and her memory will always be a blessing to all who knew her, who learned from her and with her, as well as to countless generations that listened and will listen to her songs.
You can read Flory Jagoda’s obituary online at The Washington Post.