What first comes to mind when you
think of Memorial Day?
Many people would respond the
long weekend or the beginning of summer.
This is no accident. In 1971, Congress
passed a law to schedule four national holidays on Mondays to give federal
workers a three-day holiday weekend.
Over the weekend, I heard a
number of people comment on the contrast between Israel’s Memorial Day, Yom
HaZikaron, and ours. In Israel, it
seems to be much more meaningful. The
whole country stops and remembers. In
the US, the closest we seem to come to national commemoration is by attending a
parade or attending a barbecue.
While Memorial Day in the US may
have morphed into the opening of summer, it has a long history of reflection
and commemoration. Did you know that
Congress authorized a national moment of remembrance to take place at 3:00 pm?
Personally, I have vivid memories
of watching the scenes from Arlington National cemetery including the laying of
a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknowns. (I’m
actually watching it right now with my family.)
There is something powerful about the formality, dignity, and gravity
that mark these memorial ceremonies. We
encounter the sacrifice of those who allow us to live freely, and we have the
chance to ponder those events and ideals which are greater than ourselves. Even if we did not serve to defend our
country or even know people who did, we are clearly the beneficiaries of their
sacrifice.
Such is the power of memory. Memory connects us with the past and unites
those with a shared experience or history.
Think of a conversation you may have had that brought to mind something
from the past. All of a sudden, you are
transported back to that place or time to relive a formative experience or
reconnect with people who made an impact on you.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks captures the
power and essential role of memory:
There is a profound difference between history and
memory. History is his story – an event that happened sometime else to someone
else. Memory is my story – something that
happened to me and is part of who I am. History
is information. Memory, by contrast, is
part of identity. I can study the
history of other peoples, cultures and civilizations. They deepen my knowledge and broaden my
horizons. But they do not make a claim
on me. They are the past as part. Memory
is the past as present, as it lives on in me. Without memory there can be no identity.
The Chief Rabbi’s Haggadah (Essays) p. 29
We are blessed to live in the
United States. As Jews, memory is not
only a function of the mind, it is a sacred obligation. We invoke memory in our religious observances
and to connect with our past. We
recently observed Yom HaShoah and Yom HaZikaron, two modern days of memory and
purpose.
The image above is of my
grandfather’s discharge from the US Army following his service in World War
Two. I know it is not Veteran’s
Day. (Even fewer people commemorate that
one.) My grandfather was able to leave
Germany and come to America in 1938 and bring over his parents and siblings in
1940 before serving his new country honorably.
This family memory is part of my Memorial Day observance. Without my grandfather’s experience, I would
not be here. Without so many other experiences,
none of us would.
Today, we have another
opportunity: To honor the sacrifice of
so many in shaping and maintaining this great country and to reflect upon the
power of memory in helping us lead more meaningful lives.
God bless America!
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