Today I visited the Yad Vashem Holocaust memorial. I'm not sure any words that I may try to put in this blog about this experience are worthy to describe the memorial. If you have been there, you know what I mean. If you haven't been there, I encourage you to come to Israel and visit. The Holocaust is a complex point in time involving the extremes of cruelty, hatred, cowardice, true crimes against humanity; but also woven into the fabric of that moment is also bravery, courage, loving-kindness, and heroism. All day I watched different video clips throughout the memorial of people telling the reality of their experience, the things they saw with their own eyes, first hand accounts. In addition, I saw true weapons of mass destruction employed against our Jewish people. At the end of the museum hall is The Hall of Names. In thousands of volumes reside the names and personal details of victims of the Holocaust. The enormity of the collection is staggering. I don't know much about my family, the Bargemans, that were lost in the Holocaust but I do wonder if their names are recorded in one of those volumes. I am still conflicted as to whether it is important to try to find out exactly what happened to them. I think it is important to remember, to know. Their lives do have meaning.
Outside, on the edge of the memorial campus is the Valley of the Communities. It is carved deep into the bedrock of Jerusalem. The walls of the man-made canyon are lined with stone blocks. Upon the face of the stones are carved the names of the all of the known communities lost in the Holocaust. I was the only person in the Valley of the Communities this afternoon. The only sound was that of the wind blowing in through the Jerusalem Forest and the sound of my footsteps on the crushed stone paths. All of the community names sit silently on the wall, representing their millions of souls. In that valley, I felt the enormity of their presence. I emerged from it with their weight upon my shoulders. My existence is so that theirs was not in vain. The people in those communities were murdered because they were Jews. I must continue on my path because I am also a Jew. It is for their sake, mine, and all those who will come after us that we continue.
Outside, on the edge of the memorial campus is the Valley of the Communities. It is carved deep into the bedrock of Jerusalem. The walls of the man-made canyon are lined with stone blocks. Upon the face of the stones are carved the names of the all of the known communities lost in the Holocaust. I was the only person in the Valley of the Communities this afternoon. The only sound was that of the wind blowing in through the Jerusalem Forest and the sound of my footsteps on the crushed stone paths. All of the community names sit silently on the wall, representing their millions of souls. In that valley, I felt the enormity of their presence. I emerged from it with their weight upon my shoulders. My existence is so that theirs was not in vain. The people in those communities were murdered because they were Jews. I must continue on my path because I am also a Jew. It is for their sake, mine, and all those who will come after us that we continue.
I left the Yad Vashem campus walking along a path that connects it with the IDF Military Cemetery. It would have been easy to leave through the main entrance but I thought it was necessary not only to remember those lost in the Holocaust but also to pay respect to those who have fought and died for the State of Israel. There were a few people here and there in the cemetery, remembering their loved ones. Mostly, it was quiet and empty. Unlike Yad Vashem, most of the memorial markers were not in multiple languages except for memorials to the big names, like Golda Meir and other heads of state. But I stopped in the section of the cemetary reserved for more recent conflicts. With my emerging Hebrew skills I read the names on many of the grave markers. I don't know these people but I felt it was important to read their names.
As I walked along, I thought about a family I know that survived and escaped the Holocaust. The State of Israel was built with their hands. I will probably never make Aliyah. I will never have the privilege of calling myself an Israeli. But, I am tremendously uplifted that there is a State of Israel and that Jews had the courage to create it and protect it. It is hear for our sake, it is here for a homeland for Jews, it is here to be a beacon of hope to the world.
In Yad Vashem, one of the things you may notice is that there is always more space allowed for more names, more exhibits. Why? Because, although it is now a race against time, there are still facts being uncovered about the Holocaust, still names being added to the lists of victims, still names being added the the list of the Righteous Among the Nations.
There will always be some unknowns, some that have lost specific memory. A long time ago when leading a Kabbalat Shabbat service I made a statement before reading the mourner's kaddish. I said that we also read it for those from our Jewish community for whom there is no one to remember their name. Each time I stand for kaddish, I stand for their sake.
As I walked along, I thought about a family I know that survived and escaped the Holocaust. The State of Israel was built with their hands. I will probably never make Aliyah. I will never have the privilege of calling myself an Israeli. But, I am tremendously uplifted that there is a State of Israel and that Jews had the courage to create it and protect it. It is hear for our sake, it is here for a homeland for Jews, it is here to be a beacon of hope to the world.
In Yad Vashem, one of the things you may notice is that there is always more space allowed for more names, more exhibits. Why? Because, although it is now a race against time, there are still facts being uncovered about the Holocaust, still names being added to the lists of victims, still names being added the the list of the Righteous Among the Nations.
There will always be some unknowns, some that have lost specific memory. A long time ago when leading a Kabbalat Shabbat service I made a statement before reading the mourner's kaddish. I said that we also read it for those from our Jewish community for whom there is no one to remember their name. Each time I stand for kaddish, I stand for their sake.
