Remembrances of Dr. Michael Kogan
Michael Kogan passed away on April 6th at age 81. He was living in Charleston South Carolina, to him The Holy City, in his retirement. He was for forty-one years professor of Philosophy and Religion at Montclair State and an expert in fields of Jewish-Christian theology and dialogue, Existentialism, and Old and New Testaments.
Michael was a member of Congregation Shomrei Emunah for forty years. He served two terms as president; founded and taught in the Adult Education program; spearheaded the Scholar-In-Residence program; sponsored and preached at the congregation’s annual July 4th service and celebration; and served as a Torah and Haftorah reader. Michael was a major financial supporter of the synagogue.
Rosemary Steinbaum
The Steinbaum family was close to Michael. He had a hand in raising both Marshall and Elliot, but Marshall in particular, with whom he shared a passion for collecting lead soldiers.
We had many meals together at our kitchen table. One evening, Michael mused, “My friends fall into two groups, those who hate my politics and love my theology, and those who hate my theology and love my politics.” We Steinbaums were in the first camp. In those days, he would reminisce about the virtues of Richard Nixon and Barry Goldwater. He also brought easy and familiar talk of G-d to our dinner table. With the ascendancy of Donald Trump, however, he was revolted by what had become of his beloved Republican party, and, in recent years, Bernie Sanders was his candidate.
Deanna London
Michael was the brother I never had. He was a force of nature. When Michael entered a room he owned it. His love of teaching gave him great joy. He was never happier than when surrounded by students. He was a giver of gifts and loved surprises. Michael loved opera, he loved giving dinner parties and he loved good food. The loss of this great man is a loss to our community. He will be remembered as a loving friend, a passionate teacher, and a lover of Torah. Rest in peace our friend.
Jenn Moss
When I think of Michael Kogan, I think of how many of our interactions took place late at night. He was a die-hard night owl.
First, there were the parties he held after any notable event sponsored by the Religion & Philosophy Department at Montclair State University. He would throw open his home to professors and students alike, ply the students with caffeine-laden soft drinks (and the professors with something stronger) and then spark stimulating discussions, good-natured arguments, and raucous laughter.
If you were one of the die-hards, you might stay for a low, low-limit poker game as the party wrapped up. And if you were even more of a die-hard, you would drive into the city with Michael at the very end, to some all-night restaurant in Chinatown. We were lucky to be back in our homes by 4 am.
After college I helped Michael with his book for Oxford University Press, Opening the Covenant: A Jewish Theology of Christianity. He was no typist, so it was my job to read his chicken-scratch writing and turn it into the printed word, beta-reading as I went (and so adding my own notes). I would send him each chapter, and he would call late at night so that we could pore over every word. He was always open to suggestions concerning his work – and to good-faith arguments.
Once the book was published, we kept up those late night phone calls. Sometimes it was a late-night dinner instead, but in either case it always involved an engaging conversation on a range of subjects, for Michael’s interests were always wide and varied.
And now, when it comes to be eleven o’clock at night – which has always been way past my bedtime – I find myself thinking that it’s the perfect time to call Michael. I’m still mourning the fact that I won’t be able to again.
If you would like to contribute your stories about Michael Kogan, add comments to this post (bottom of the page).
Rosemary, Deanna, and Jenn–thank you so much for your lovely reminiscences of Michael Kogan. My relationship with Michael started off on a wrong note. I (mistakenly) got involved in a protest against him at Montclair State University in the late 1970ss, concerning some right-wing activity of his to which many of my colleagues took objection. Some years later, I apologized to Michael, he forgave me, and then, unbeknownst to him, he became a vital influence on my conversion to Judaism and my joining Shomrei Emunah, of which he was then president. I became a devoted fan of his annual 4th of July sermons, learning something important about the American Jewish situation every year. In the mid-1980s (I think) I accepted a couple of times his gracious invitations to spend a few days with him at whatever house he was renting in Charleston’s historic district. HIs wide and deep knowledge and love of local and Civil War history was always a revelation to me. Although, unlike Jenn, I rarely joined him on his late night/early morning jaunts into the city, on those occasions when I joined him for a visit to a synagogue or Episcopal church for some choral service, Michael was a knowledgeable and charming companion. HIs teaching, both in our Adult Education courses and in his classes at Montclair State, was a model of the art.
I missed him enormously after his permanent move to Charleston, feel bereft of his presence in my life. I loved him.
I want to add a note to what my mother said above–Michael was a profound influence on my life, not just due to our shared passion for toy soldiers, although playing hooky from elementary school to go to a soldier show for the day was always a highlight of my entire year. I remember long political debates about Reagan-era foreign policy by phone when I was in high school (not that I knew what I was talking about, but Michael still let me hold forth, so long as I reciprocated), and of course many, many fine dinners & trips to the opera in New York, or slightly lower down his pecking order, to the “Diner of Death” on Route 46, where he’d had a litany of hilarious mishaps that somehow kept him coming back. I also felt closest to him when reading over and editing the manuscript for his book via late-night conference call, as Jenn described, though she did much more work than I.
I always felt Michael was admirable for his commitment to higher education, specifically that all students who walked into his classroom at Montclair State deserved a world-class education in philosophy and religion. That ethos is so different from the way universities are run now, it’s important to remember and credit Michael for living up to it. His mentorship and friendship to a whole collection of youngsters was also a part of that.
I remember once my father and I biked up to his apartment and dropped in unannounced on a Sunday afternoon. He welcomed us hospitably, as he always did. We must have been about to take a ski trip to Utah or something, because it turned into an hour and a half-long lecture on Mormon theology and history, which I have to say has served me well since I now live in Salt Lake City.