There's no word that better captures the spirit of the Jewish people than "L'chayim." And that's not because we love single malt scotch. Well at least not only because we love single malt scotch. It's because "L'chayim" means "To life." Colloquially it is a toast or a cheer, but in truth it's a commandment. L'chayim is the overarching moral imperative of Jewish faith. We are a people that, no matter what, cherishes life.
Yad Vashem (Israel's Holocaust Museum and Memorial) and Har Hertzl (Israel's national military cemetery), today's two primary sites, share something quite profound with one another. On the surface they appear to be about death but in truth they cry out to us all and bear witness to the awesome power of L'chayim.
The main hall of Yad Vashem begins with a celebration of life. Images of the rich tapestry of Jewish life in Europe before WWII. And Yad Vashem ends with life, a refreshing view of the Jerusalem skyline. The journey from beginning to end reveals the importance of saying L'chayim and provides countless examples of individuals who did so, even if it was in the face of inevitable death. If they could say L'chayim from Auschwitz, what of us? Reports of the kids during their visit to Yad Vashem suggest that the power of the experience was not lost on them. Gathering at the children's memorial for a short ceremony, the reverence was palpable.
Connecting Yad Vashem and Har Hertzl there is a path. This too is a path of life. Lined with trees, shaded and peaceful. That an entire mountain in Jerusalem is dedicated as a military cemetery brings a lump to my throat. Countless rows of graves, many of them uniform regardless of rank or station. Others, the more recent and ever growing section of freshly lost lives paints a different picture. Famous leaders and humble soldiers side by side. Each grave decorated to reflect the individual spirit of the human being who lays there. What can be said of each and every grave at Har Hertzl is that those buried there died not because of their hate. They died not because of their rage or their anger. They died because of their love: for their homeland, for their faith, and for life itself. There is no greater testament to the power of L'chayim than Har Hertzl.
A heavy day indeed, but with some swimming and a final night out at Ben Yehuda for shopping (including some thoughtful purchases for friends who couldn't join the group tonight). So all in all, a balanced and rewarding day. A day that truly embodies the spirit of L'chayim.
As the majority of our attendees prepare to return home tomorrow with the rest of us not too far behind them, folks are starting to reflect on the journey that we've all been on in recent months. We aren't home yet, and a full exhale is still forthcoming. But we are close to an inflection point-- the end of the physical trip. From long before this trip ever departed there have been ups and downs, tears of many kinds, and almost every human emotion imaginable. If I had to summarize all of it in one word it would be... wait for it... L'chayim.
Life is complicated. Uncertain. Terrifying. Awesome. Painful. Exultant. Sacred. Messy. And all at once. And without an instruction manual. There are no promises, few if any refunds, and even fewer guarantees. Because of all this, whether we know it or not, in every moment we are living heroically. In every moment we are doing our absolute best. In every moment we are deserving of love. In every moment we are infinitely precious, created in the image of God. In every moment we are, in fact, life itself. Let's make sure our kids know that. And let's make sure we constantly remind one another and never forget it. And if we do find ourselves having strayed from this fundamentally truth. All we have to do is say L'chayim and allow ourselves to remember in the part of us that truly knows (the heart).
No comments:
Post a Comment