Eulogies

Eulogy Delivered by Eric Rosedale at Memorial Service at Temple Beth El of Northern Westchester, November 6, 2003

My father was a lover of philosophy.  As a young child, he advised me to read the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, the great Roman philosopher king.  For my father, no one was ever too young, or too old, to ponder life's great questions.

In the past few days, more than thirty years after my father's first official reading assignment, I re-read the Meditations, looking for keys to the spirit that guided him.

What I found was a reflection of my father's own perspective on life, which Marcus Aurelius described as "more like wrestling than dancing" where, with wisdom and reason alone, one can be rich in spite of poverty, happy in spite of physical torment, and free, even if a slave.

Following the stoic creed, my father believed in a duty to others, to be tolerant of other people's failures, to allow for their ignorance, to forgive their misdoings, and to help in their need—all the while, never parading his intelligence and going about his business with dignity, charm, and humor.

In the final season of his life, my father's courage was like a headland upon which the waves broke, and broke, and broke again.  Hour by hour he faced death with resolve like a Roman and a man—taking what came with correct and natural dignity.  My beloved father despised not death, but rather smiled at its coming, as it is among the things that nature wills.

Go to your rest with a good grace—as an olive falls in its season with a blessing for the Earth that bore it and thanksgiving to the tree that gave it life.

Thanks and praise to my brother Jeff, and his wife Mary, who, at the very last moment of my father's life, held him in their arms, gave him comfort and gently closed his eyes with his final breath.

Eulogy Delivered by Jeff Rosedale at Memorial Service at Temple Beth El of Northern Westchester, November 6, 2003

One of the many reasons I wish my father were standing here today is because he would know exactly what to say.  His amazing capacities for memory, analysis, and association rarely left him speechless.

I grew up with him in the years before the Lyme Disease epidemic reveling in the great outdoors of this area.  I’d like to think of him in heaven doing as he liked to do on a sunny day—lying on the grass looking at clouds pass, perhaps noticing an unfamiliar bird or taking in the beauty of autumn leaves.

In truth, Dad had a mild obsession with plants.  Some men get lost in the tool section at Home Depot—for Dad, it was the plants.  Every time we came over we’d be talking about azaleas, rhododendrons, and every kind of bulb.

I was thinking about Dad and about the trees in our backyard.  I began to wonder whether he felt some kind of kinship with the tall trees.  It seemed to me that he and the trees had a number of things in common—not to minimize his capability to show great warmth, humor and humanity.

There are five ways that my father was like a great, venerable old tree: 

A tree grows around its center:  He had a strong sense of principles, values, sense of justice, and reverence of the truth.  There was a reason for everything he said and did, largely issuing from his central guiding principles. 

A tree is nourished by its roots:  Dad was closely bound to each and every member of his family. His religious tradition was a constant source of inspiration.  And he strongly believed that the present and future should be informed by the past.

A tree stands its ground in a storm:  he was not easily intimidated, and not easily moved off his spot—though he could listen and bend to another opinion.

After many years, a tree is marked by lean years and battles with nature; he certainly was marked by his battles towards the end, but his scars did not define him. As he was fond of saying, “It is what it is,” and he was the sum of everything he had been in each stage of his life.

The most majestic trees can be seen from a distance, standing apart from everything that surrounds them; they spread a canopy over the earth, giving shelter to all manner of creatures underneath.  Dad’s work with the victims of destructive cults, promoting the expression of free will and helping the oppressed touched many lives and crossed barriers of faith and nation.  He was aware and very proud of these accomplishments at the end of his life. 

I’m glad to be able to tell you that Dad’s death was remarkably peaceful.  Just before his final days, though, he would occasionally look troubled. My mother once said he was wrestling with the angel of death—something, if you knew him, you might believe he would try.

On his last night, my wife, Mary, and I were the last to leave because we had the shortest trip home.  As Mary sat beside me on his last night we tried to sell Dad on the ideas of peace, rest, heaven, and an end to fighting.  We threw everything in the book at him- I read to him about the Sabbath even though it was Monday evening, because even God took a rest; I sang Osei Shalom to him.  We reluctantly left, half expecting he would slip away in the quiet of the night.

Dad decided to sleep on what we had to say, and waited just long enough to allow us to return the next morning, and on Election Day he finally decided to leave his ailing body behind.  As we were driving home from the hospital on that previous night, I asked Mary if she imagined he might be dreaming, and what his dreams might be.   She reflected for a moment, and said, “I think he’s negotiating.”

Dad lived and died on his own terms, something I will always remember with respect and with love.

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Eulogy Delivered by Seymour Levine at Memorial Service at Temple Beth El of Northern Westchester, November 6, 2003

What do you say when you've lost a good friend—

·       A colleague

·       Someone you've known for 45 years

·       Who joined the firm on the same day you did

·       Who became a partner on the same day you did

·       Who was there to talk to when you wanted to (many times about personal matters)

·       A person who was the smartest man in the world to my daughter and to whom she turned when she didn't think her father's counseling was enough—and who always gave his time to her as he gave of himself to so many others and for so many cases.

·       Someone whose many qualities cannot be replaced

·       Someone whose brilliant mind enabled him to have interests that covered a wide and diverse spectrum

I can go on and on (and you have already heard and will hear much more than I can hope to tell you), and I ask again—what do you say?

To those who knew him, you don't have to say anything (except, perhaps, to express your sorrow at his passing).

To those who didn't know him, you won't be able to say enough.

So, what do you say?  For me, I say goodbye, friend.  I and many others will miss you.  But we won't forget you, for, as it has been said, "A good man never dies."  And let's all remember, "There is no death!  The stars go down to rise upon some fairer shore."

Eulogy Delivered by Michael Langone, Ph.D. at Memorial Service at Temple Beth El of Northern Westchester, November 6, 2003

There are probably several hundred persons associated with AFF (American Family Foundation) who would consider themselves to be friends of Herb Rosedale.  The eloquent eulogies of Rabbi Davidson, Herb's sons, Eric and Jeff, and his law firm partners, Alvin Stein and Seymour Levine testify to the breadth and depth of Herb's character, intellect, and human warmth.  Yet he was such a multifaceted person that each and every one of his many AFF friends, if given an opportunity to speak, could illuminate a part of Herb that nobody else thought to talk about.

Hence, with full appreciation of the foolishness of trying to capture this complex man's essence, I will merely share with you an anecdote and describe those aspects of his character that the anecdote illuminates and that most stand out to me.

I first met Herb in the early 1980s, when he became a member of the recently founded AFF's advisory board.  One incident was imprinted on my memory because it revealed aspects of Herb's character and intellect that I was to see time and again over the years.  During one of our advisory board meetings, a charismatic attorney was discussing his attempts to sue cultic groups on behalf of clients claiming emotional distress.  He had met with some success, and most of us at the meeting were excited by the prospect that perhaps the legal system might enable victims to obtain the justice that they deserved.

Herb, who I later discovered knew what it meant to defend clients with very deep pockets, made a laconic comment, which was lost in the excitement of the moment.  He simply said, "It isn't going to be that easy."

He didn't push his point on us.  He was too kind to try to deflate our emotional balloons.  But he did feel obligated to voice what he thought and what later turned out to be the truth.  Suing cults, as Herb had predicted, did not turn out to be the "answer" to the cult problem.  Litigation was fraught with obstacles, and, although a few scored stunning victories, most who contemplated or initiated lawsuits discovered that, as Herb predicted, it wasn't that easy.

This anecdote captures for me three aspects of Herb's intellect and character that have impressed me throughout my years of working with him, especially since he became AFF's president in 1988: a dedication to truth, courage, and good will.

Herb was the most non-ideological, the most realistic idealist I have ever met.  As a first-rate corporate attorney who worked at the upper echelons of the business community, he knew the world of money and power—and he knew the law.  This gave him insights into how the world works that few of us could ever have.

However, he didn't leave this practical wisdom at the office.  He applied it to other areas, in particular his passion for helping cult victims and their families.  He loved to think and speak analogically, pointing out similarities among phenomena that most people deemed unrelated.  Time and again he showed us that this or that aspect of the cult phenomenon wasn't all that unique.  There were always historical, or social, or anthropological parallels to be made, parallels that illuminated our area by relating it to others.

He was able to make these parallels because he was dedicated to truth.  I say "dedicated" and mean "dedicated."  He wasn't merely "interested" in truth.  He didn't merely "value" truth."  He was dedicated to truth as only a genuine idealist could be.

But unlike less realistic idealists, his dedication to truth rested on a hard bed of courage.  He didn't merely settle on a "truth," plant his flag, and defend his "truth," as many do.  To him skepticism was an ally in the pursuit of truth, not an enemy.  He was always asking questions, always probing, always laboring to get to the heart of the issue—pleasant or unpleasant.  He could be coldly logical in his intellectual penetration of a situation.

I had many conversations with him about AFF's struggles as a nonprofit.  Some of these conversations pointed toward a potential future that wasn't always a pleasure to behold.  But I always found a comfort in these conversations, for I knew that with Herb I was dealing with a man who could not only face unpleasant truths but could face the uncertainty of not knowing for sure what was indeed true, of seeing bad and good outcomes as probabilities.  Much strife results from people who prefer the comfort of illusions to the truth of uncertainty or unpleasantness.  Not Herb!  Illusions and lies were the enemy.  They were the opponents who had to be met with courage and discernment.  This he did, again and again.  And as a result, AFF is still around and thriving because Herb had the courage to see all the potentially bad things and to do what had to be done to make sure they didn't come to pass.  We will be indebted to him for as long as this organization exists.  He put it on the trajectory that gave it a shot at the future.

Herb's dedication to truth and resulting opposition to illusions and lies help explain why he was so passionate about cult issues.  He realized that the core of the controversies animating the cult phenomenon was not the deviance of cults, not their calling people to unusual life courses, not the intense commitments that they demanded.  At the center of the controversy was deception, the lies that are the stock-in-trade of exploitative manipulators.  "Bad" groups could deceive people into making life choices that ultimately caused great pain for them and their loved ones.

Herb could not stand by and simply let that happen.  The pain of the victims and families called forth another of his fundamental attributes: good will.  Herb was an intellectual and a man comfortable in the hallways of money and power.  But he was also a kid from the Bronx who loved people, who always wished them well (which is, after all, the essence of the love that the Greeks called agape).  His good will was no more apparent than at our conferences, where Herb was the schmoozer in chief!  I never ceased to be amazed at the energy and sincerity with which he greeted and engaged newcomers and old friends alike.  He seemed to be omnipresent at our conferences, always talking, laughing, shaking hands, and introducing people who he thought would benefit or otherwise enjoy each other's company.

His conference collegiality revealed Herb's social good will.  His work with former members, families, and harassed or confused helping professionals, clergy, educators, and civic leaders revealed the personal side of his good will.  Given his law firm's billing rates, I estimate that Herb must have donated at least $5,000,000 of pro bono assistance over the 25+ years during which he was involved in this field.  I estimate that he directly and personally assisted at least one thousand people over the years, and quite possibly several thousand.  Despite how closely I worked with him, I can't say for sure how many individuals he helped.  And I doubt that Herb could either.  He didn't bother to keep track!  He never worried about updating his resume, of adding to his list of good deeds accomplished. He just did it and went on to the next situation, to the next person in need.

Herb has left a permanent imprint on AFF.  The fundamental mission of the organization reflects his good will: to help people hurt by cultic groups.  Our fundamental methods reflect his pursuit of truth: we study the phenomenon scientifically and professionally so as to help people, to the degree we are able, with truth and not illusion.  And our governing attitude reflects, I hope, his courage: We must remain open to dialogue, to learning, to change, and we must be strong enough to stand against those who hurt people with lies while standing up for those whom lies have savaged.

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The Harold and Lila Scales Award Presented to Herbert Rosedale, May 4, 2003

Presenter:  Bill Goldberg

I have the honor of presenting the Harold and Lila Scales Award this year.  Harold and Lila Scales, as you know, were pioneers in informing the public about cults.  They were active and brave before any of us knew that cults existed, and we have named the award in their honor because they deserve it.

The award this year goes to an individual who has made a unique contribution to cult awareness.  When I think of milestones in our struggle—most of the milestones I think of are negative.  People became aware of the problems of cults at Jonestown; they became aware of the problems at Heaven’s Gate; aware of problems when Patty Hearst was announced.  People become aware, unfortunately, when tragedy occurs.  There was some awareness with Elizabeth Smart.  It is unfortunate in our movement, because it is not something in the public eye.  Usually it is something after some tragedy occurs that we have some kind of turning point.  There are few turning points that are not taken up.

And as the history of the cult awareness movement is being and will be written, one of the turning points of involvement is that of our honoree. I don’t think there is an individual in this room who hasn’t been touched by him.  There is no one I know who has the breadth of knowledge, the wisdom, the ability to cut right to the core of the problem, and to give that plain-spoken, simple, down-to-earth, logical advice.  All of us look to him as a figure in the vanguard of knowledge, in the vanguard of how-do-we-proceed, how-do-we-do-that.  He has meant so much to Lorna and me in the advice he has given us and so much he has given to the individuals of the movement.

I am proud to present  “The Harold and Lila Scales Award,  Presented by the Cult Information Service to Herbert Rosedale, With gratitude for years of dedication, leadership, and compassion in the movement for free minds.”

Honoree:  Herbert Rosedale

People getting awards?  So I think I’ll say I am embarrassed.  I don’t recognize myself.  It is also an odd kind of feeling to be introduced to a bunch of people all of whom are all that nice.

It is a warm, rewarding kind of thing to be with friends.  And to be with people who understand.  And the recurrent theme of meeting the people here is somebody saying, “Let me tell you about so and so whom you helped X years ago.”  “Let me tell you about what has happened, too.”  A lot of us really forget that in the cult experience you meet people at times of crisis and we kind of lose them afterwards.  If we have done a good job, they have gone away.  They have gone through an experience and grown through it, and from their point of view I guess what has happened is like children.  They no longer need us.  It is a different kind of concept, but it is something where we can look at those people and say, “Isn’t that nice!”

And that is really what I want to say about being here and about getting the award.  It is really the resonance of that order. It’s nice!  It’s nice to be here.  It’s nice to be with all of you.  And it’s nice to have received the Award, and I appreciate it very much.

(Taped & edited by Fred Behrle)

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