A great person has passed from our midst. Fred Lyon, M.D., died in Tucson, Arizona, where he had been spending his winters with his wife, Naomi.
A refugee from Nazi Germany, Fred became a physician – an OB/GYN – who was a champion of reproductive rights, civil rights, and human rights. His history of Mount Sinai Hospital – which in many ways traces the arc of Fred's medical practice – chronicles the story of a hospital built where all people so qualified could practice medicine and where all people could be treated (for many decades, most Jewish physicians did not have admitting privileges at most Twin Cities' hospitals).
As Fred wrote in his book's introduction:
"For some Mount Sinai was a place of employment, for patients it was a place of healing, for doctors it was a place to practice their profession and enhance their education. For the volunteers it was a place to serve their Jewish and Minneapolis community."
(Mount Sinai Hospital of Minneapolis, Minnesota: A History, 1995)
Fred wrote these words and their inherent affirmation of life after a harrowing childhood growing up in Berlin in the 1930s and watching the systematic dehumanization of Germany's Jews. He witnessed the Kristallnacht in the company of his father as they rushed to their synagogue (Fred's father was the president of the synagogue) to save the Torah scrolls from the burning building in the face of sneering SS thugs. In later years I saw his tears at the community's Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) commemoration as he remembered his aunts, uncles, and first cousins who were unable to leave Germany and were gassed at Auschwitz.
Fred was a veteran of the United States Armed Forces and I heard him speak of his love for our country and how he thanked G-d each day for the privilege of living in America.
At Bet Shalom Congregation, he was a moving spirit behind the creation of its Holocaust Reflection Garden, whose Inscription Rock was dedicated this past October. As Rabbi Norman Cohen said at the time: The garden "has lit a flame that has the potential to drive away much darkness."
Fred spent his life illuminating the way. I had the privilege of traveling with him to Grand Forks, North Dakota, to participate in a day and a half worth of activities commemorating the 70th anniversary of the Kristallnacht, in the wake of anti-Semitic incidents on campus the previous academic year. Fred was honored by the administration, faculty, and students as he told his story with its contemporary application and lesson for the need of eternal vigilance against discrimination and persecution. It was not easy for Fred to travel, but he never complained during the two six-hour car rides and the many events on and off campus. He was always a witness, but more importantly an agent of work, of learning, and acts of loving kindness. May his memory be for a blessing.
