The Siren Heard Across the Land - Yom HaShoah

Yom HaShoah Holocaust Remembrance Day. 

10:00 am. A siren sounds across all of Israel. We know this siren comes annually. Today is a day that we take to remember who we lost. An interesting question can be asked: why should we not only remember, but be reminded once every year? Does the history of the Holocaust not cause us some kind of deep pain? It does. 

There are many reasons to remember but one that sits on my mind is that it’s not just my history, it’s not just a recent history, it’s human history and its lessons are valuable to the contemporary. 

One thing I hear people say a lot is that “people are inherently good.” I don’t believe that. As a Jew I don’t believe it and as a descendent of survivors and victims, I can’t believe that. To be good is to do good. And sometimes, to do good requires a bravery greater than the average person can summon. What comes to mind when discussing the Holocaust is not just those who partook in the atrocities but also those who made excuses to remain silent. It comes to mind because there is silence towards great pain today. People remain silent about atrocities and agony across the world. Whether it be in Central America, Syria, Myanmar, China, or anywhere else - we should not have to wait for the situation to be like that of the Holocaust for us to care about those being victimized. Jews may spend the remainder of their lives remembering the Holocaust but the Holocaust is not just about the victims. It is about those who can become perpetrators and bystanders when situations arise to allow such behaviors. But also, the Holocaust is about those who in spite of all that was stacked against them, became the righteous among the nations. That’s what makes being a human being a worthy cause. It is because humans are not inherently good that it is so uplifting when humans do such amazing good. We might not be inherently good but we are capable of doing so much good. We can prevent future atrocities. I believe that since we can do so many great things despite our capabilities of doing such great evil reveals the beauty and complexity of being a human being. 

When I hear the siren of Yom HaShoah in Israel, I think of those who came before me and sacrificed so much so that I can be where I am today. I think of those who had their whole lives disrupted and were forced to rebuild. I think of the stories I need to share so that on the day there are no more survivors, I can carry the mantle and keep their stories alive. But perhaps most of all, I think of those who didn’t make it. 6 million Jews and 5 million other people who had their lives stolen from them and never truly received the justice worthy of their sacrifices. 
So let the siren sound so that we can take this moment in time, to silence the noise of our lives, for just one minute that we can pay respect to our forefathers and foremothers who sacrificed so much that we can be where we stand today. 

May we use the memory of the Holocaust to build a better future.

May we never again allow hate to destroy.

May we love the neighbor.

May the memories of those we lost forever be a blessing. 
Am Yisrael Chai.

This Year in Jerusalem? Maybe Next Year.

For many generations, Jews have concluded their Seders with the saying “לשנה הבאה בירושלים״ translated as “Next Year in Jerusalem.” Many Jews dreamed of returning to Jerusalem over the generations and sadly most were never able to go. I am currently enjoying a great privilege which is to be in a land where Jews are safe and can express their faith openly without concern. This year, I happen to be in Israel during the holiday of Passover and I really wanted to celebrate the holiday in Jerusalem. I didn’t want to just celebrate this for myself; I wanted to celebrate the holiday in Jerusalem for those before me who never made it to Jerusalem. Unfortunately, my dream went unfulfilled. Because of the coronavirus and the quarantine imposed upon us, I was unable to make it to Jerusalem. So close and yet I might as well be so far away. I will be honest, it hurt. But as with every challenge in life, lessons and ideas can come from it. My ancestors prior to my grandfather never made it to this land and were never able to celebrate Passover in Jerusalem. This year, I did not make it to Jerusalem for Passover either. But, I came close. 

Sometimes, we have to come to terms with what is impossible but we should also acknowledge how close we got. So, this year I don’t get to pray for those who didn’t make it. Perhaps next year - I will.