I’m a member of the Richardson Interfaith Alliance, and last night some of us were invited to participate in Congregation Beth Torah’s 14th annual 24-hour “Reading of the Names,” a Holocaust remembrance vigil. It started at 9:00 last night and finished at 9:00 tonight.
I joined Rabbi Elana Zelony and other spiritual leaders in Richardson as we lit a candle “in memory of all the spiritual leaders lost in the Holocaust.” Others lit candles “in memory of all the boys who did not live to become men” or “in memory of all the unborn generations lost in the Holocaust.” It was a truly beautiful memorial. After chanting the El Malei Rachamim Memorial Prayer and reciting the Mourner’s Kaddish, members of the community began reading the names—one by one—of those who perished in the Holocaust while the rest of us bore witness by listening. This reading of names lasted 24 hours.
From their program for the day, Congregation Beth Torah informed us, “In just six years, Nazi Germany and their allies methodically murdered six million Jews and an estimated five to six million people of various nationalities, persuasions, and cultures. Each of these individuals had a name. Each had a story. We honor them, as we try to comprehend our loss, by reading as many names during a 24 hour period.”
In the now fourteen years that Congregation Beth Torah has gathered for a 24-hour vigil, they have read approximately 100,000 names. They estimated that if they were to read names 24 hours/day, 365 days/year, it would take about twelve years to read all 11,000,000 names.
As you can surely imagine, it was a deeply meaningful time, to hear these names read. My Jewish sisters and brothers really get the idea of “remembering.” It was overwhelming to hear each of the names read and to imagine a mother and father who lost a child, a friend who lost a companion, a child who lost a parent. The Creator lovingly made each of those 11,000,000 people who were so quickly erased. It is an act of supreme hope and devotion in the community who is dedicated to keeping their memory alive.
The most helpful portion of the introductory words for me as a first time witness was a story my friend Earl, a fellow member of the Richardson Interfaith Alliance and a member of Congregation Beth Torah, told. It’s a story from Moshe Leib Sassover, an 18th century Hasidic Rabbi.
A peasant said to his friend, “Ivan, do you love me?”
Ivan replied, “Of course I love you.”
The peasant said, “Do you know what brings me pain?”
Ivan said, “How can I know what brings you pain?”
“Well,” the peasant said, “if you don’t know what brings me pain, how can you truly love me?”
To enter into the pain of a person or of a community is the ultimate declaration of love. In our own Christian tradition, we confess that this is precisely what Jesus did. He didn’t just save us from a safe distance: he entered into the pain of human history, acquainted himself with our grief, and suffered as we all suffer. And it is to this solidarity in suffering, this knowledge of our neighbors’ pain, that we are all called. This, being attentive to the pain of others, is love.
The Jesus Way 