Remembering the Shoah One Name At A Time

Everyday new studies are being initiated and conducted to determine the effects of the use of technology on our memories. Think about it, at one point in the not too distant past, people had to memorize historical dates, the Preamble of the Constitution, how to spell words correctly, and yes, other people’s phone numbers (as well as their own). Today such information is literally only a click or voice command away. Even the passwords we use to “protect” our information can be stored and saved in case we forget them.  I am not suggesting that we can or should turn back the clock or that we as a society would even want to. We are indeed privileged to live at this exciting time, and have a world of information accessible earlier generations would be envious of.

Yet, there is still an important place for first hand use of human memory. Making memories entails taking the information around us and internalizing it in a way that not only creates neuro-pathways in our brain but literally becomes part of who we are. This is more than doing a Google search or posting on Facebook. In fact research₁ shows that posts, tweets, and texts engage only short term memory, they are quick, in the moment, snapshots that don’t last long because they are followed by more posts, tweets, and texts. Arguably, this is indeed the purpose of this type of media communication but, as far as the faculty of memory is concerned this does not translate to creating long-term memories that change, enhance, and enrich us.

As Jews living after the horror of the Shoah (The Holocaust) we have often been taught, “Never Forget!” But, how do we do that? Especially in our world today?! Unlike so many of the other holidays and commemorations in the Jewish life-cycle and calendar, Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) does not have a universally accepted ritual, sacred text, or even communal service of some type (let alone special foods or lack thereof). I believe that it is through these rituals that we as Jews, have been not only able to maintain our traditions but as important been able to create memories that literally transform and touch our souls. They bring meaning to our lives by connecting us through the generations, informing our relationships, our values, and our moral perspective.  Which brings us back to the challenge of Yom HaShoah. With very few survivors left, how can we ensure that their stories and those of the millions of Jews who perished will not be forgotten?

One way my synagogue has found to create powerful memories is by holding a Yom HaShoah vigil in which we read the names of those who perished in the Shoah. People sign-up to read names and to come and listen throughout the day beginning after morning services and continuing for twelve hours stopping only for mincha/ma’ariv where we recite the Mourner’s Kaddish in remembrance. From families that come to read together, to our teens and older members - we read their names - we hear their names, and in doing so I feel we not only keep their memory alive but make our own powerful memories. The sacred duty to never forget becomes not only a surreal number to remember but, real mothers, fathers, and children. The Nazis counted numbers but we remember names.

We have always believed that names carry memory. As Jews we remember loved ones by naming our children after them. We still use the ancient names from our Torah - Adam, Seth, Jacob, Rachel, Sarah…It is no coincidence then that our people’s Hebrew name - Yisrael, links God’s name with ours. By remembering the names of our brothers and sisters who perished in the Shoah we link their names and lives with our own. And in that way may all of their names be for a blessing - one we never need a password to remember.

1 How Technology Is Warping Your Memory The Huffington Post  |  By Carolyn Gregoire

Save Me A Seat At The Seder Table: Why The Wicked Child Is Invited

Of all the major Jewish holidays, Pesach is focused in our homes, and more specifically around our tables. From the initial cleaning of our homes, the search for hametz, and the making of the matzah balls, the spiritual center of Pesach is sitting around the seder table and telling the story of how God saved our people, taking us from slavery to freedom. In telling the story of our exodus, our rabbis in the haggadah, use the metaphor of four children, each with different levels of understanding and each asking different questions. They wanted each of us to literally look around the seder table and tell the story so that each person there would be moved, challenged, and inspired by the story.

Yet, of all the four children represented in the story - the Wise, the Wicked, the Simple and the One Who Doesn’t Know How to Ask, why each year would the host of the seder invite the Wicked Child? As a reminder, the wicked child asks, “What mean you by this service?! By the word “you,” it is clear he does not include himself in the community.” Whoa! Talk about attitude! The question of the Wicked Child can be understood not only as his eyes rolling to the back of his head but also a total disconnect from the family, our people and the tradition. 

It is completely understandable that the first year when the wicked child initially asks their question the parent responds. In that case, the seder leader’s response seems relevant if not a necessary stern rebuke of the wicked child even going as far as to say, “had he been there (in Egypt), he would not have been redeemed!” But what is not obvious is why year after year the Wicked Child is invited back! Is it just because he had to move back in with his parents? Maybe he loves his mother’s chicken soup, or maybe it’s just some type of masochistic fetish? After all why would you want someone at the seder table who does not feel a part of the holiday or even the people, and actively taunts others about it?!

Maybe the answer lies with the very story of Pesach itself. Our people start out hungry, enslaved, and abused. We are strangers in Egypt physically but we are also estranged from our innate sense of dignity, self-worth and connectedness to our land and our right to determine our future. In the end God nourishes us, gives us hope, and restores our freedom. The journey we travel however is not a straight one. In fact when Moses first goes to Pharaoh seeking our freedom, Pharaoh not only rejects Moses but also increases the burden on our people. The people’s response to this is to blame Moses and mock him. Indeed, over and over throughout our journey to freedom, the people continually accuse Moses of trying to kill them and wish they could return to Egypt.

Likewise, the Wicked Child is hungry, estranged and adrift. Had he not been invited to the seder, he would not have been able to engage in the conversation, and would not have maybe even recognized what he was missing. Surrounded by family, by community, by food that not only nourishes the body but also speaks to the values of love, hope, and freedom, the Wicked Child may by the end of the seder have been moved. The opportunity exists only because the Wicked Child has been welcomed and invited. Remember, the Wicked Child shows up when invited every year! The tradition believes that even though the Wicked Child does not feel a part of Jewish life and tradition now, the door is always open and more specifically a place around the table has been set and is waiting for him. May our tables but more importantly, our hearts, be big enough, welcoming enough, and hopeful enough to invite all who are hungry to come and join us at the seder table.

Chag Kasher v’ Sameach!