Many of us will remain in this room when it comes time for
Yizkor. We have lost loved ones…
parents, siblings, spouses, grandparents, and perhaps even children. Each of us whether we have experienced the
death of a beloved family member, knows that in our lifetime we will experience
loss. It is a given that we are mortal
and that our time on this Earth is limited.
Our physical bodies die.
Judaism does not engage in ancestor worship but it does
engage in memory. Memory is a powerful
tool that helps us heal by bringing comfort and allowing us to deal directly
with the relationships we once had and which continue despite the fact that another’s
presence in our lives is no longer a physical presence.
How many of us can think about a dear friend or relative who
has died and still sense their smile, their warm embrace, or even hear what
they might say to us as we face new challenges in our lives? How many of us can think back and feel a
sense of gratitude for the times we spent together and still have memories of
those fine times?
On Pesach we tell the stories of our Exodus from Egypt. The hagaddah helps us provide the memory of
that experience to our children and grandchildren. By the time many of us are
older adults, we can think back to previous times we sat around a seder table
and even manage to envision the conversations that took place and the
individuals who filled the chairs that are no longer filled by them. Some of us remember having had the
opportunity to hear personal stories of escapes from places our relatives left
because of the hatred that rose up against them because they were Jewish. Some of us remember hearing the stories of
release from modern day bondage that attempted to keep our friends and/or
family members from experiencing the freedoms which we have so often taken for
granted.
How do we ensure that those stories are passed on as
well? How do we ensure that when the
generation that had those experiences no longer is alive that their stories are
not lost?
In a school in Jerusalem that
my granddaughter Chaviva attends, all the children in her class were asked to
speak to an older relative and have that relative share a story about a member
of their family that they never got to meet.
I shared the story of my grandfather Sam’s life as a young boy (a story
that I had written as a book for my own children when they were growing
up). Chaviva took that story which was
provided to her in English and wrote it in her own words in Hebrew and had her
friends create expressive movements as she read her story aloud before an audience of students
and parents. My grandfather’s story was
brought to life once again. I have no
doubt that Chaviva will continue to remember my grandfather ( her great, great
grandfather) and the challenges he faced as a Jew living in Tzarist Russia,
even long after I am gone.
My granddaughter, Jemma, engaged herself in a project two
years ago to interview older members of our congregation about their childhood
and teen experiences. Many of those
individuals did not have grandchildren nor great grandchildren of their
own. They spent time sharing their stories,
laughing about memories from their past but also expressing hardships and
unbelievable traumas that they had to overcome. The experience has stayed with
her and their stories are now living on.
I still hear her share what she heard from members of our congregation whose
stories were shared.
The opportunities are many to influence the younger
generations’ understanding of who they are and where they came from. I find it sad when I ask my young students to
tell me about their grandparents’ lives when their grandparents were younger
and they can’t share any stories. The
links that bind us together need to be maintained through active sharing of
memories with the generations that are coming up next to take their place in
the “center” of life. These memories
impart values. They help create a sense of
what is important and to be cherished.
When you leave the synagogue today, share a story about a loved
one. You don’t need to gloss over an
individual’s shortcomings to do so, but you need to realize that Yizkor is not
a “time for regrets, but for an expression of love and gratitude for what was”
(Rabbi Mitchell Wohlberg).
May this final day of Pesach provide us with an opportunity
to continue our sense of connectedness to past generations and to remind us of
our need to share with those who will inherit the future.
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