The Resistance Rabbi and the Gift
As we rush through the final days of 2025, I am reminded of the many times I have come to the end of December thinking, what happened this year? What were the best moments of the year? What did I accomplish? What did I set aside for “another time?
Life is full of challenges, and every year seems to bring new reasons to shelve our dreams, as more pressing matters always come up in our daily lives. I am writing this today to encourage you to review what you have done this year, and think of all of the best things you experienced. I also want to give you a little nudge to think of the things that you meant to get to, but didn’t find time to pick up.
Has the time come to make that dream a priority in your life?
I’m thinking about this because of the immense joy I have finally experienced in finishing a novel I started writing almost eighteen years ago.
The celebration I enjoyed at the book launch for The Resistance Rabbi and the Gift last week was the realization of a goal I have held for many years. It meant a great deal to me that so many of my friends and family made time to join me in this important moment in my life.
The strength of my voice is not what it used to be, but I always know what I want to say.
I especially want to thank my son Michael Singer for bringing his voice to my words.
The full text of my speech is below.
On the Occasion of the Launch of The Resistance Rabbi and the Gift:
Nothing I have accomplished—not my rabbinate, not this book, not even the daily work of living with dyslexia and, eventually, Parkinson’s—would have been possible without the love and support that has surrounded me for so many years.
I am deeply honored that the Parkinson’s choir is here today. Their voices remind me that courage can be shared and hope can be sung.
To my sons, my daughters-in-law, and my twelve wonderful grandchildren: you are my strength and my joy. You are the reason I care so deeply about the lessons we pass forward.
I want to tell you about why I wrote this novel, and why the story of Eli and Miriam matters now, perhaps more than ever.
The roots of the story go back to 2008, when Myra and I led thirty congregants on a mission to Poland. Standing together in Auschwitz, and walking the streets of Warsaw, I felt something I still cannot entirely explain—a sense of connection to those who walked there before us. Surrounded by the reminders of the tragic history of the Holocaust, I felt a responsibility settle onto my shoulders—A responsibility to remember—to teach—and to make sure these stories do not fade.
That journey to Poland planted the seed for this book.
I began writing what would become The Resistance Rabbi and the Gift almost as soon as we returned home, but it was only in the last year that I was able to return to the manuscript and complete the work needed to bring it to life.
Eli Morgenstern and Miriam Goldberg are fictional, but the world they inhabit is not. It is built from the lives of real people—Jews and non-Jews—who resisted hatred with extraordinary courage. They were young and full of promise, and yet they risked everything because they believed their actions might save others. Their stories echo those of our own ancestors. They remind us of what was lost, but also of what was not destroyed: faith, resilience, and the fierce human instinct to protect one another.
I wrote this novel because I worry that as time passes, fewer young people truly understand what the Holocaust was. Fewer still have the chance to meet survivors or hear their testimonies firsthand. Yet the dangers of forgetting grow greater every day.
My hope is that by entering the world of Eli and Miriam—by feeling their fear, their bravery, and their stubborn hope—readers, especially younger readers, will begin to understand the sacrifices made by those who came before them. I also hope that they will hear, in their own hearts, the urgent meaning behind the words Never Again.
“Never Again” is not a slogan. It is a responsibility. It asks us to learn, to remember, and to stand against cruelty in all its forms—especially when it is easiest to look away.
To be here today, launching this book, is a dream come true and an important moment in my life. I wish my beloved wife, Myra, of blessed memory, could have been here to share it with me. Myra’s strength and courage became the inspiration for much of the character of Miriam in The Resistance Rabbi and the Gift.
Myra believed, with all her heart, that every life touched by kindness creates a ripple of healing in the world. Her legacy lives on through the Giving Tree of Temple Beth El, a charity she founded thirty years ago. To honor Myra and the values she lived by, I will be donating my proceeds from this novel to support the Giving Tree. Please see the short video at the end of this post to learn more about Myra’s work.
Myra and Merle Singer, photo from Singer family collection
I’ll close with a story I admire about the violinist Itzhak Perlman. During a concert, a string snapped on his violin. He stopped for a moment, then nodded to the conductor. He continued to play the entire piece on the remaining three strings, improvising with breathtaking skill. The audience was astounded. The great musician would only say:
“Sometimes it is the artist’s task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.”
The Jewish people have been making music with what we have left for generations. Eli and Miriam are part of that music. This book is my small contribution to ensuring that the triumph of surviving—and the lessons of the Holocaust—are not forgotten.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Merle E. Singer