Remembrances

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Obituary

Knoxville News Sentinel, March 2015

Arnold Schwarzbart, Avrum ‘Sruel ben Yitzchak Aryeh v Frumme Ratzah, beloved husband of Mary Linda and devoted friend, passed away on Monday morning, March 16, 2015, at home.

Arnold was born in Russia during World War II and began school in Vienna. In 1951, he came to Knoxville with the help of his grandfather’s cousin, Max Friedman, knowing no English. His family joined Heska Amuna Synagogue, where he was bar mitzvahed and confirmed.

Arnold was the loving son of the late Frieda Gruenberg Schwarzbart and Isadore Schwarzbart; cousin of Joe and Susan, Alan and Patsy, Marty and Donna, Alain and Hilary, and Sam and Brenda Schwarzbart; godfather to Seth Diamond, Aidan Schwarzbart, Paul Gruenberg, and Mendel Wilhelm; brother-in-law to Anne Tomlinson and Trudy and Shmiel Robinson; and uncle to Jennie Tomlinson Fults, Sarah Tomlinson, Michal Robinson, and Yariv Robinson.

Arnold was a graduate of East High School and a member of the first class of the Knoxville East High School Alumni Association Hall of Fame. He was a member of the first graduating class of the University of Tennessee School of Architecture and a partner in the firm GSW and later Wilcox and Schwarzbart. Two of his favorite projects are the Knoxville Zoo and the L T Ross Building, home of the Knoxville-Knox County CAC. Arnold left his architecture work in the early 1980s, moving into creating artwork based on our Jewish ritual items and our texts.

Many local organizations benefited from Arnold’s leadership and skills. He was past president of AEPi Fraternity, Arnstein Jewish Community Center, and the Knoxville Jewish Federation. He served as president and board chair for Heska Amuna Synagogue. He chaired the committee to merge the AJCC and the KJF, forming the Knoxville Jewish Alliance. Additional memberships included Arts and Culture Alliance, Southern Highlands Craft Guild, and American Guild of Judaic Art, as well as being an Hadassah Associate.

Thanks to Arnold’s many wonderful doctors, the clinic staff, and our pharmacists. Rather than sending flowers, donations in Arnold’s memory may be made to the Knoxville Jewish Alliance, Heska Amuna Synagogue Cemetery Fund, Knoxville Jewish Day School, Knoxville Chapter of Hadassah, East Tennessee Community Design Center, Knoxville History Project, or the charity of your choice.

Pallbearers are Gene Rosenberg, Bill Berez, Joe Gruenberg, Marty Gruenberg, Alan Gruenberg, Alain Schwarzbart, Ernie Gross, and Scott Hahn. Honorary pallbearers and dear friends include Mike Criss, Tommy Hahn, Sam Schwarzbart, Matt Gruenberg, Berck Nash, Yariv Robinson, Herman Saatkamp, Larry Ventis, Paul Joffe, Irving Leeds, Jeff Hecht, Guy Smoak, Gene Bocknek, Bernard Bendriem, Even Ohriner, Jeff Becker, Ted Besmann, Rafi Sagiv, Alan Solomon, Aidan Schwarzbart, Ruben Schwarzbart, Rabbi Yossi Wilhelm, Rabbi Mark Greenspan, David Harris, Peter Rose, Michael Tomlinson, Jim Wyatt, Mark Gruenberg, and Jack Benhayon.

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In Memory of Arnold Schwarzbart

Rabbi Mark Greenspan, eulogy, March 18, 2015

How does one begin to talk about a man like Arnold Schwarzbart? In all my years in the rabbinate, I haven’t met anyone like him. He was echad b’mino – one of a kind. And as much as he liked to tell people that he was the student and I was his teacher, the truth is, he was my teacher and mentor. Arnold taught me so much about life, spirituality, Judaism, and about being a rabbi. My friend Arnold taught me to be open to the world and to learn from all sources.

Arnold had the unique ability to touch others. Don’t get me wrong – he wasn’t a saint. He could even be just a bit intimidating. Arnold had a way of seeing to the very essence of things. He would meet someone and immediately size them up. He was never mean or intolerant about his judgments – but he was perceptive. Arnold had no patience for small talk or trivialities. There was a quietness about him and an intensity. He listened to what people had to say and encountered them with truth. He had strong feelings about many topics but he still met people with respect and kindness.

I was lucky – Arnold and I found one another at the right time in our lives. I was young, naïve, and relatively inexperienced but I was open to new experiences, and Arnold was just beginning to explore the role of Judaism in his work. He brought his talents as an architect and an artist to his exploration of Jewish spirituality. Judaica was his doorway into Jewish life. Arnold was open to learning. He loved our sacred texts and he loved the Hebrew language. I shared Talmud and the Zohar with him and he encouraged me to read Carlos Castaneda. He taught me that Jews don’t have a monopoly on spirituality. Arnold taught me about being open to others – spiritual riches can be found all around us in the world. You just have to be quiet and humble enough to listen to the voices of others. It says a lot about Arnold that he counted among his friends and teachers, Reb Zalman Schachter and Rabbi Yosi Wilhelm as well as the many rabbis who have served at Heska Amuna. There was something to be learned from others.

Arnold didn’t like being called an “artist.” He thought of himself as an artisan – plain and simple – as a man who worked in clay and metal and ink, turning them into something both beautiful and useful. Arnold would listen attentively to the people who commissioned his works and he would capture their vision and their needs, whether it was the Knoxville Zoo or a wall installation for a synagogue. He was modest about his work. The fact that they weren’t all one of a kind pieces did not make them any less beautiful or powerful. He brought beauty into our homes. Arnold understood Hiddur Mitzvah, beautifying the commandments, better than anyone I know.

There is a Midrash that claims that every person has a letter in the Torah. Arnold had an entire name - Betzalel. Betzalel wasn't his Hebrew name – he was Avrahm S’ruel but he was the gilgul, the reincarnation, of the biblical Betzalel. During the past few weeks, we’ve been reading in synagogue about the construction of the Tabernacle in the wilderness. This was a grand metaphor for Arnold’s life. Moses oversaw the building of the tabernacle but Betzalel was the artist who had the talent and the vision to embody faith in objects of beauty. Betzalel literally means “in the shadow of God.”

The Torah describes the qualities that allowed Betzalel to embody God’s presence in objects of worship and holiness: “God has endowed Betzalel with a divine spirit of wisdom, understanding and knowledge in every craft.” Arnold didn’t just make things that were esthetically pretty; they came from a place of wisdom and brought a deeper understanding and appreciation of Judaism to those who could appreciate them. Arnold was not just a capable craftsman but a man with a unique vision that he shared with others.

He was our Betzalel – combining skill with an ever growing knowledge of our tradition – as well as the ability to do so in a selfless way. His work was more than “art.” It was the way in which he worshipped God.

You can’t talk about Arnold without mentioning Mary Linda, the love of his life. They have been an amazing couple. They met not long after Arnold arrived in Knoxville from his native Vienna. They have been a couple nearly their entire lives, from high school, through college, through the years of building a life in Knoxville. I suspect that it was Mary Linda who kept Arnold grounded – theirs was a true partnership in their devotion to one another and in their deep commitment to this Jewish Community.

They loved this community – both the general and the Jewish community, and they devoted themselves to the betterment of Knoxville. Arnold was passionately devoted to Heska Amuna, the JCC, and in recent years to the day school. Arnold believed that if something was good for the Jewish community and it promoted a commitment to Jewish learning and living, then it should be supported, no matter what the source of it might be. In that sense, Arnold was completely non-dogmatic in his approach to Judaism. He made his judgments on the outcomes and not the ideology.

I remember starting the Monday and Thursday morning minyanim at Heska Amuna. A handful of people would show up each day but not enough to read Torah or say the Kaddish. After several months of trying to maintain a minyan unsuccessfully I was ready to give up. Arnold looked at me and said: “Rabbi do you hear us complaining about not having a minyan? We’re still coming, aren’t we? That’s what counts. Thirty years later, Arnold was still attending the minyan.

The last time I was here, Arnold and I talked about coming to minyan. He admitted to me that he came more to support the community than to pray. Personally he found prayer in synagogue difficult. “When do you pray?” I asked. Arnold told me he held a regular conversation with God as he drove to and from the hospital. Arnold understood that prayer is not so much about saying the words as it is about speaking to God.

Arnold will always be my teacher and my friend. In these last years, I found myself in awe of his equanimity in the face of his own mortality. He knew that dialysis took a toll on his body and could go on just so long. He seemed to make peace with life – he lived each day as if it were his last and his first. He continued to create things of beauty and to share his thoughts and ideas with the people around him. He was a presence in all of our lives – never feeling sorry for himself and constantly seeing the wonder and beauty in world. What a great legacy he leaves behind. He will continue to be present in our homes and at our holiday tables. He will be present in synagogues across North America that commissioned his works. But most of all, he will be present in our words, in our memories and in the gifts he shared with us every day.

T’hay nishmato tzrur b’tzrur Hahaim. May the soul of Arnold Schwarzbart, Avrum YiSrael ben Yitzchak Aryeh v Frumme Ratzah continue to be a blessing and a source of strength and may his soul be bound up in the bond of everlasting life.

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A Jew of magnificence

Jeff Becker, eulogy, March 18, 2015

We have lost a devoted husband and son, a loyal friend, a tremendous leader, an inspiring artist --- a Jew of magnificence that cannot be captured by a few words.

Arnold was very unique (I’ll allow myself this one-time exception to the use of that term!).

Born during the Holocaust years in Europe, Arnold arrived with his parents in Knoxville as an eleven-year old, uncircumcised immigrant, as his Jewish, Yiddish-speaking parents had protected his Jewish identity. I think Arnold was rather proud of his youthful courage of accepting the cut of the Mohel in Knoxville as admission to formal Judaism.

Arnold’s integration into American Life was facilitated by the Knoxville Jewish Community and Mary Linda Morrison, both became his life-long loves.

His aptitude for language allowed him to quickly pick up English, although he always claimed that it was the idioms that provided the challenges.

Arnold was a brilliant student; learning orally was his forte, able to repeat verbatim almost anything he ever heard, although not always interested in the subject matter. His teachers in Heder in Vienna thought he would make a brilliant Torah Scholar. His parents wanted him to become a physician. But Arnold chose a different path, and we were the beneficiaries. Arnold trained as an architect and had an impressive, yet truncated career. But something about architecture did not challenge Arnold. He found his professional love by turning to Judaica.

A good and steady hand, a deep understanding of Judaism, and a thirst for a creative outlet led Arnold to make beautiful and meaningful Judaica. Starting with ceramic Chanukiot, candle holders, Kiddush cups, and Mezuzot, Arnold transitioned into gorgeous painted Kiddush cups and personalized medallions. His art was extensive and covered many media. Did you know that one of his Mezuzahs is on display in the Great Synagogue in Jerusalem, that Arnold and Ernie Gross designed and made a magnificent Torah ark out of multi-colored natural woods carved with animal figures which is in a Synagogue in Florida, that Arnold’s huge dedication walls made in ceramics and metals hang in many Synagogues in America including, of course, Heska Amuna?

Previously I mentioned Arnold’s amazing ability to remember anything he heard. It was this ability that enabled his joke and story-telling, this and his remarkable delivery was one of his most endearing, and certainly entertaining, qualities. Rosh Yeshivas would travel to Knoxville just to enrich their joke portfolios!

This complex and interesting man had amazing hand-eye coordination as he was an accomplished marksman, whose picture as a youth adorned the cover of the National Rifle Association, a near-hustler pool shark, and a decent tennis player.

But none of what I have mentioned above really capture the essence of this most complex human being. First of all, we must recognize his devotion and love for his partner-for-life: Mary Linda. What legs! What ankles! What a mind! How could Arnold not love her?

Second of all, we must recognize that with all these incredible qualities, Arnold could be a little scary. It was hard when he looked at you with those deeply penetrating eyes and said: “I don’t think so!” or “No, you didn’t” This was Arnold’s way of being honest and straight-forward and it took some getting used to. But once you realized that his affection was true, that his care for his friends was totally sincere, then one could accept his friendship and wisdom as a meaningful gift.

Finally, Arnold’s service to his community cannot be overlooked. He chose to return his love for Judaism and his appreciation for what the community had given him and his family. Arnold served as President of the AJCC, Heska Amuna, and a leader in the merger of KJF and AJCC to form the KJA. He was the person to whom Rabbis and lay leaders went for counsel regarding the workings of the Community.

As the ultimate spiritual person, learned in Kabbalah and Jewish Mysticism, Arnold felt his life on this Earth was just part of a never-ending journey. In fact, his journey will continue as he lives in the hearts and minds of those who knew him. He continues to live with us because his work is in almost every Jewish home in Knoxville, and in many homes throughout the world. He will be with us as we study, joke, appreciate creative endeavors, work for the good of the community, and enjoy a good piece of herring.

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Surviving Well in America

Alan Gruenberg, cousin, eulogy, March 18, 2015

This is a story, which I shall tell briefly. As with any story, corrections, corroboration, clarification and modifications, are welcome. Last month, before Arnold’s passing, I was reflecting on 1940. The story begins 75 years ago, 1940.

Arnold’s uncle Julius and aunt Mary, my parents were married February 25, 1940. One week later, Arnold’s father Isadore Schwarzbart and mother Frieda Gruenberg were married on March 3, 1940.

Why?

In the first year of World War II, these couples wanted to survive. They left their town of Tarnopol in southern Ukraine and moved East. Somehow, survive they did in western Russia. Arnold never knew exactly where he was born, but on March 10, 1942, seventy-three years ago, Arnold was born.

Isadore, Frieda, and Arnold survived three more years of war in Russia. We were told as children, that these couples found refuge and reunited in Vienna, at a displaced persons camp.

In fact, Arnold’s exceptional talent at design was connected to his father’s gift for design, for which he found work in Vienna.

As we were told, Arnold and his parents came to America, through New Orleans, arriving in Knoxville, to join my brother Joe, and our parents. These were a family of survivors, welcomed by the Friedman, Smullian, Leeds and Billig families in 1951.

Imagine a nine year-old boy, arriving in Knoxville, fluent in German, Polish, Russian, and a bit of Yiddish, and entering Park Lowry Elementary School, middle school, and then, Knoxville East High School.

Of course, Arnold found a way to excel in math and science and industrial arts and design.

Most important, Arnold found a sweetheart, Mary Linda. In fact, Mary Linda was two times a sweetheart of the Knoxville Jewish boys’ youth group.

I do not believe that Arnold ever felt alone, after meeting Mary Linda. I do believe that Arnold found his soul mate at a very young age. We were all together to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary this past June 2014.

Most of you know Arnold as an adult, serving the Knoxville Jewish community in each and every leadership capacity. I believe that Arnold was among the first classes at the UT School of Architecture. I believe that all of you have visited the Knoxville Zoo, which Arnold designed. I believe that all of you know that Arnold contributed to contemporary design of homes throughout Knoxville. And, I believe that all of you know of Arnold’s design skills in Judaica, which was the focus of the last twenty-five years of his life.

Believe me, when I say that each person is multifaceted and multitalented. All of us, in our family, Joe, Susan, Mark, Angela, Jonathan, Lori, and their seven grandchildren, Patsy, Matthew, Lindsey, and Eva, and Marty, Donna, and Paul think of Arnold’s love, humor, intellectual interests, and unconditional support. In so many ways, Arnold is always and still with us.

I always remember Arnold’s mother speaking to us. Thanks G-d, Frieda would say. As for Arnold, I say thanks G-d for giving us Arnold, and thanks G-d for giving us Mary Linda, and thanks G-d to Knoxville and thanks G-d for giving us life.

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There are no words

Herman Saatkamp, friend since the fourth grade, 2015

There are no words. No words to express the loss of Arnold whom I have known since the fourth grade. It was an alphabetical accident that brought us together. The custom was to seat students in lexical order, so Saatkamp and Schwarzbart were seated one in front of the other. His English was not the best, and even though he thought he spoke well, and he did well enough, idioms and particularly East Tennessee idioms gave him pause: "I reckon," "I'm gonna go ...," "I reckon I'm gonna go . . ," and a variety of "I'm fix'n to . . .," along with the wonderful Shaker notion of simple gifts and my grandfather's notion of "turn, turn 'til you turn round right." The last we discussed and talked about the meaning and imagery. We wrestled with the proper pronunciation of our nation's capital, "WORSHington" or "WASHington." And sometime during those early years we walked out of class one day and pondered "Why is there something rather than nothing." Ours was a childhood friendship carried by the wonder of words, puzzles, and a growing social life. Still no words match the depth and strength of even the early friendship. My wonder at his heritage, the saga of his family's escape from the Holocaust, and even those unfamiliar places like Poland, Russia and Vienna seemed both unreal and tragic. His language skills, abilities in math and science far excelled mine. And his excellent artisanship would have been evident had I been more aware and insightful. It was the beginning of a lifelong friendship that would only end in death, and would continue in the one who lived on. But in childhood we did not see the length or depth of a friendship that would last more than six decades. There are no words.

There are no numbers. Arnold was good at math and I later discovered my own skills in the foundations of math and logic, but he excelled as we progressed together through the twelfth grade as he entered science fairs and wondered about science and answers that may be found through experiments. Numbers were central to daily life. I envied the number of holidays he was allowed, both Jewish and Christian! He would only smile at my envy and talk about Hebrew School, learning and friends. There was the odd number three, consisting of Arnold, Larry Ventis and me. We had a sense of humor that we thought was beyond most people, but I now suspect most people thought it was not as humorous as we thought. Difficult to account for our bond through life, odd, but precious and beyond words or numbers. There was the number two as Arnold and I declared forthrightly that we were the East High tennis team, which was true if one had the proper imagination. There is the number one that captures more of Arnold than any. The one Mary Linda who was the ground of Arnold's life. She, more than any, made possible the Arnold we knew and share. Her gifts at organization, numbers, computers, friendships, dedication, and honor, all gave Arnold the independence and latitude that only she could make possible. Their friendship began at age 11, if I remember correctly, and never ended. There is no number but one that begins to portray the meaning of Arnold's life.

There are no thoughts. We have now buried Arnold using the back of the shovel to show both our obligation and unwillingness to do so. There are no thoughts that penetrate the paradox of action, of life and death. Arnold became an icon for his friends and community. Each person has a precious memory of him, some for only a short period and others more fortunate for a lifetime. His knowledge of Judaism, the rituals, artifacts, and history were alive in his hands and heart. He loved Knoxville and the region. There are no words, or numbers but one, or thoughts to explain his bond to his religion and region.

There are no works. Arnold thought of himself as an artisan. His works consist of small as well as monumental structures. No detail too small and no angle of meaning, light, or color too large to omit and handle with care. Many of us have his works in our homes, and they greet all our guests with Arnold's knowing hands and look. His Omer Counter stands in the reception area of my home. Yet no single work provides the power or significance of Arnold. But perhaps, as was suggested at the celebration of his life, all of his works in our homes, synagogues, museums throughout the world, all his works past, present and planned hold a more powerful glimpse into his life. But who can see all that. There are no words, thoughts, numbers but one, or works that capture what I would like to say about my dear friend Arnold.

Sitting in his well-designed home with Mary Linda on the second night of Shiva after all but three of us had left, I looked out through the glass wall toward the mountains then enshrouded by fog and mist. I was listening to Mary Linda and feeling how many times we sat in that very room, those very seats, with our friends, our children, and listening to Arnold's stories, his puzzles, and his gentle and honest, "I don't think so." Thinking of the mountains I realized how words, thoughts, numbers, and works only dance on the outlines of a mountainous life whose depth is as solid and lasting as our East Tennessee mountains. Arnold you are missed and the world is less wondrous without you. Although, now I see those penetrating eyes and hear that soft voice, "I don't think so." For once, you are wrong.