Memory and Memorial Days: Between Remembrance and Visitation

MiMidbar Matana – 1998

We are currently (at the time these words are being written) between two memorial days: Holocaust and Heroism Remembrance Day, and Memorial Day for Fallen IDF Soldiers. This is the foundation that the Jewish people chose to lay as the footings for the celebration of its independence. I would like to put down here a few reflections on the subject of memorial days, and perhaps also on the concept of memory itself, which seems not always to be examined and understood in full.

The concept of remembrance has several manifestations, both in the sources and in everyday language. There is remembrance of events, such as the remembrance of the Exodus from Egypt. There is memory of information, as when one generally tries to remember the Torah, along with other things one studies. There are objects that themselves serve as memorials to various things (perhaps mnemonic aids), from headstones and museums to ritual fringes, so that you may remember all My commandments ('so that you may remember all My commandments'). There is also remembrance in the sense of attentive regard, which usually appears in connection with the Holy One, blessed be He (though not always), as in Remember Your mercies ('remember Your mercies'), or Your kindnesses, and so forth.

Correspondingly, there are also several kinds of memorial days. There are memorial days for people who have died, and there are memorial days for events, such as Purim, Passover, Sukkot, memorial days for private miracles, and more (in this sense, Independence Day too has a dimension of a memorial day). The two memorial days between which we now stand have a more complex character.

Holocaust and Heroism Remembrance Day does not appear to be a day that marks specific events or specific people. It is a day that marks phenomena. The phenomena we remember on this day are abyssal evil on the one hand, and supreme heroism on the other. A persecution of satanic and incomprehensible character, as against death or survival, and human functioning in the depths of that valley of the shadow of death. These are the two poles that we set before our eyes on Holocaust and Heroism Remembrance Day. We also remember people who were partners in those events and phenomena—those who were devoid of both humanity and the image of God, and those who possessed such an image—but the emphasis seems to be on the phenomena more than on the people and the events. Here the people and the events serve as vehicles for the phenomena. Clearly, one must not forget that these phenomena were brought about by people, and perhaps that is their primary significance, but the emphasis in remembrance is on the phenomena themselves.

To be sure, even memorial days for private individuals can be understood as days on which one remembers the qualities and deeds of the person to whom the day is dedicated, but in the simple sense there is here something beyond the concrete history of the person remembered. We remember him in and of himself, and use his qualities and life story for that purpose. In the Musaf prayer of Rosh Hashanah we describe the remembrance of the Holy One, blessed be He, on these two planes: For every creature comes before You in remembrance: each person's deed and his destiny, and the actions and footsteps of man. ('For every creature comes before You in remembrance: a man's deeds, his visitation, and the chronicles of man's steps'; see the rest of the passage there as well). The deeds and the chronicles are the manner in which the person is remembered.

Memorial Day for Fallen IDF Soldiers also has a more complex character. It is not a memorial day for the concrete individuals who fell, for each of them has his own personal day of remembrance. On the other hand, it does not seem to be a memorial day for a phenomenon either, not even for the phenomenon of heroism and self-sacrifice about which people speak so much on this day. It is a collective remembrance of those who have gone. There is here a kind of memorial day for the person, but not for a concrete person; rather, for his general aspect as one who fell in Israel's wars. On this day, heroism and self-sacrifice are not the content of remembrance, but the vehicle leading to it. Before the celebration of our independence, we must remember what the foundations are on which it rests—the silver sockets rather than the 'silver platter'; note the distinction.

Today, the prevailing view is that the individual human being cannot be an instrument, a means, a vehicle, or a 'foundation' for something else. He is an end unto himself. Therefore the prevalent mode of remembrance today moves more and more in the direction of remembering the individual fallen. Relating to the fallen as a group that fell for the sake of a purpose is steadily diminishing. Such a way of speaking, and such assertions that the individual is merely a vehicle, seem to contradict the humanistic values that currently hold sway. Gathering the individuals into a collective appears as a loss, neglect, or at least a disparagement of the individual image of each one of them.

However, for one who believes that the individual is an organ within the larger organism of the people, the conception of remembrance is different from one end to the other. Here the person is indeed a vehicle: his individual form serves us only in order to develop identification and remembrance, but it is not the goal of remembrance. For that purpose there are the anniversary days of death of each of these fallen individuals. I do not intend to detract in the slightest from their importance, nor from the importance and standing of each individual component of the collective. This is simply a different conception of reality from the one prevalent today in the liberal-humanist world.

The question now arises why, in truth, we need to remember all these remembrances. What is this act—or set of acts—of memory? I mean a two-dimensional question: how does one perform this act, and what does it effect?

R. Tzadok writes in several places that there is a close connection between remembrance and visitation. This connection finds expression in a number of contexts, such as the visitation of barren women and the visitation of the Jewish people to redeem them. By way of example, let us cite his words in Poked Akarim, p. 2 (see also p. 23):

Therefore we read the section beginning “And the Lord took note” on Rosh HaShanah, which is the day of the world's conception—the conception and attending to of the entire world, meaning the first thought and will that there should be created beings, His hosts and those appointed by Him, and that the Blessed God should attend to them, watch over them, and take account of those appointed to Him. And who is not brought into account before Him on this day? For then is the day of attending to and providential oversight over all His creatures, just as on that day was the beginning of creation in the work of creation. Therefore Sarah, Rachel, and Hannah were attended to on Rosh HaShanah; and regarding Rachel and Hannah the language of remembrance is used. In Rosh HaShanah 32b there is a dispute whether attendings-to are the same as remembrances, and both are the words of the living God, for attending to is also a term of remembrance, except that it adds to it more intense providential attention and quality; conversely, the language of remembrance adds quantity and duration of time, as Maharsha writes there in Chiddushei Aggadot, that attending to is for a particular moment, whereas remembrance is for generations. The matter is as follows: it is known that in the brain there is a chamber of memory, where all the things that one remembers are engraved and recorded; something to which one paid no attention and then forgot has its engraving erased from that chamber and from the book of remembrance. But when one sets his heart to remember it, then it stands remembered before him, for it remains engraved in his thought, and even when he is not remembering it at that moment, its impression still exists and is recognizable in his mind, for had he wished, he could remember it. The essence of Rosh HaShanah is that it is called the Day of Remembrance; from this aspect it is the head of the year, from which the flow for the entire year is to be drawn forth. And that continuation comes by way of remembrance, while bringing remembrance upward for good is the drawing down of the flow of providence in quality—and that is the idea of attending to…. (In brief: Rosh Hashanah is the day on which all creation comes under divine oversight; visitation is a form of remembrance, but one intensified into concrete providential attention.)

And in Machshevot Charutz (§1) he adds:

The meaning of zekhirah and zikaron (remembering and remembrance) is the depth of the beginning, the first point and origin—just as Rosh HaShanah is called the Day of Remembrance, because the end of the deed lies first in thought, and it is the day of the world's conception, of pregnancy and thought. As Tosafot writes on Rosh HaShanah 27a, in Tishrei there was the thought of creation. Thus it is the time of remembrance, for every spirit and soul to be brought into account, for the beginning of thought is remembrance: one remembers above, in His thought, the whole enterprise that He wishes to bring about. And hope pertains to the end, as in the verse, “a future and good hope,” for hope concerns what is yet to come, and that is the depth of the end, at the completion of the deed—and the end of everything is for the good. And so too the beginning of everything, for Israel arose in thought, and even their sins were arranged and prepared from the six days of creation, as stated in the chapter of Rabbi Akiva—that is, from the very beginning of creation God intended it for good. And although it was foreseen before Him and He saw the corruptions, He did not withhold creation, for the sake of Israel, who are the essence of creation, for with them everything is transformed into good, even their sin. After the repair, the depth of the beginning and the depth of the end are revealed, that all is wholly good, and what lies in between is thereby sweetened. (In brief: remembrance is the primordial beginning—the first divine thought from which the entire process unfolds—and even sins are ultimately incorporated into the good.)

And this is the force and intensity of joy: when, after the corruption, it becomes clear that everything was for the good, and that there was never any corruption at all, but on the contrary, an increase of goodness and merits—like one who lost all his property and then found it returned to him, with twice as much added besides. In such a case, the joy is greater than that of one who never suffered a loss and merely profited…. (That is: the greatest joy comes when, after breakdown, it becomes clear that everything was for the good, and the very loss has become added gain.)

This is not the place to elaborate on the explanation of these words. For our purposes, we will say only that remembrance is the root of visitation. The one who remembers is the one who attends to the remembered. When the Holy One, blessed be He, remembers us, so to speak, He also visits us. On the human plane as well, the one who remembers is the one who will be visited, in the spirit of Whoever mourns for Jerusalem merits to see her rejoicing ('whoever mourns for Jerusalem will merit and see her joy'). R. Tzadok adds here that after the visitation it will become clear that even what is remembered—sins or bereavement—is itself part of the visitation, making it more elevated.

The connection between remembrance and visitation appears different in the case of the Holy One, blessed be He, and in the case of human beings. With the Holy One, blessed be He, when He remembers, He visits; with human beings, the one who remembers is the one who will be visited. It seems to me that both are rooted in the same principle: as it is with the Holy One, blessed be He, so it is with flesh and blood. The explanation seems to be that the concept of remembrance is not something separate from the person or event remembered; rather, it is part of it. In Scripture we find the verb 'remember' in such a context as well. In the verse You shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek ('you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek'), which appears twice in the Torah, the meaning of the remembrance of Amalek is clearly 'a part of Amalek.' To be sure, on the basis of the midrashic interpretation one can explain that one must blot out even his memory, but in the plain sense the matter is interpreted as meaning that the 'remembrance of Amalek' is the remnant of Amalek—the final part, or what remains of Amalek. So too, every remembrance is not merely a state of consciousness; it is a part of the person or the event remembered that remains with the one who remembers. This may also be the meaning when Scripture speaks of remembering kindnesses or mercies. A remembrance of kindness or mercy is likewise a remnant of that kindness or mercy, and not merely a renewed mental state in the one who remembers (certainly when speaking of the Holy One, blessed be He).

Here we encounter remembrance in a somewhat different sense: remembrance means connecting the one who remembers with the one remembered. When the Holy One, blessed be He, remembers someone, that person's trace rises before Him and a connection is created, so to speak, between him and the Holy One, blessed be He. This connection itself grants him vitality, as one connected to the source of life, and thus visitation comes about. The person or the people remembered by the Holy One, blessed be He, are thereby nourished and receive renewed life by virtue of that connection to the One who is life itself.

In an ordinary organic entity, all the organs are connected in any case, physically and simultaneously. The head knows immediately what hurts the foot by virtue of the connection between them. So too in a spiritual organism, such as a people, there is a connection between the different organs, even those belonging to different generations. The entire historical sequence is one organic continuum. The linkage is made by remembrance. This is the mechanism through which the later organ in that sequence knows what is happening (or happened) to the earlier organ. A people, no less than an individual person, is a continuum that is both spatial and temporal. Remembrance is what creates continuity in the dimension of time, both for the people and for the individual.

In light of what has been said here, it seems that the obligation to remember, and the act of remembrance among human beings, are to be understood in a way similar to the relation between the Holy One, blessed be He, and man. Maimonides, Laws of Repentance, ch. 4:

Among them are five things that lock the paths of repentance before those who do them. And these are they: (1) one who separates from the community, because when they repent he will not be with them, and he will not merit along with them in the merit they attain…. (Among the things that bar repentance is one who separates himself from the community, because when they repent he is not with them and does not share in the merit they generate.)

One who belongs to that historical continuum and is connected to it can clearly also bear the fruits of that sustained effort. The right we have to enjoy the fruits of the sacrifice of our predecessors lies in the fact that they are not entities separate from us: the one who sacrificed and the one who reaps the fruit belong to the same organism. One who does not connect himself to this continuum will likewise be unable to enjoy its fruits. In this sense, those whom we remember are also those who reap the fruits, even before they rise in the resurrection of the dead. Part of them lives within us and enjoys these fruits together with us. This is the depth of the conception of the collective as an organism, in contrast to the conception mentioned earlier, which places the individual at the center. Therefore remembrance and visitation are bound together by an unbreakable bond. The one who remembers is also the one who is visited, because he himself is the one who sacrificed, and therefore he is also the one who can enjoy the fruits.

This is the answer we give the wicked son in the Passover Haggadah: Because he excluded himself from the collective, he denied the fundamental principle. ('since he excluded himself from the collective, he denied the fundamental principle')… and therefore, had he been there, he would not have been redeemed. One who does not bind himself to the collective cannot be redeemed together with it (see R. Soloveitchik's On Repentance, where he elaborates on this in the third chapter regarding the atonement of Yom Kippur for the individual within the framework of the collective).

Maimonides, in the Laws of Repentance, specifies who that person is who is not connected to the collective and therefore does not share in its merits. This is what he writes there, ch. 3, law 11 (see also ch. 3, law 6):

One who separates himself from the ways of the community, even if he has committed no sins, but has dissociated himself from the congregation of Israel and does not perform commandments together with them, does not share in their distress, and does not fast on their fast days, but goes on his own way like one of the gentiles of the land, as though he were not one of them—has no share in the World to Come. (One who separates from the ways of the community—even though he has committed no sins—but sets himself apart from the congregation of Israel, does not join in their commandments, does not share in their troubles or fast in their fasts, and instead goes his own way as though he were one of the nations of the land and not one of them, has no share in the World to Come.)

In a discussion at one of the tish gatherings we resolved, on this basis, what the commentators asked about the apparent contradiction between Maimonides' parallel statements in the Laws of Mourning, ch. 1, law 10, where he writes:

All who separate themselves from the ways of the community—these are people who have cast off the yoke of the commandments from their necks and are not included in the collective of Israel in the practice of the commandments, in honoring the festivals, or in attendance at synagogues and study halls, but instead regard themselves as free and independent; and likewise heretics, apostates, and informers—all of these are not mourned. Rather, their brothers and other relatives wear white, wrap themselves in white, eat and drink, and rejoice, for the enemies of the Holy One, blessed be He, have perished. Concerning them Scripture says: “Do I not hate those who hate You, O Lord?” (Those who separate from the ways of the community—who cast off the yoke of the commandments and do not join the community of Israel in commandment observance, honoring the festivals, and attendance at synagogues and study halls—are not mourned in the ordinary way; rather, they are treated as enemies of God.)

At first glance this is difficult, for in the Laws of Mourning it implies that only when people do not observe commandments are they called those who separate from the ways of the community, unlike his explicit statement in the Laws of Repentance that even if they committed no sins, such is their status. It seems simple that in both places Maimonides means one and the same thing: one who does not perform commandments together with the community is the one who separates from the ways of the community, even if in his private life he is scrupulous about every minor and major commandment. Maimonides' language in the Laws of Repentance is and does not perform the commandments together with them ('and he does not perform the commandments as part of them'). In the Laws of Mourning his language is likewise and are not included in the collective of Israel in the practice of the commandments ('and they are not included in the community of Israel in the performance of the commandments'), and in light of the similarity it is clear that his intention is one: one who does not observe commandments may still be called part of the community. But one who does observe them, yet does so privately and does not walk in the ways of the community—not merely separating from the community, but from the ways of the community; note the point—he is the one called someone who separates from the ways of the community.

This is also borne out precisely by the wording in the Laws of Mourning, for Maimonides writes there and likewise heretics and apostates ('and likewise the heretics and apostates'), etc. For if he had previously written that anyone who does not observe commandments is outside the community, why should the commandments of faith be any less severe? If anything, the inference should be stronger still. Rather, it is clear that one who does not observe commandments is still within the community, and only one who observes them alone, in isolation, is called someone who separates from the community.

It is interesting to note that according to the Kesef Mishneh (on the Laws of Mourning there), the commandments of faith appear to be an exception in this respect, for he writes there that the heretics and informers are also those who separate from the ways of the community. That is, there are parts of the Torah such that one who does not observe them is indeed called someone who separates from the community. Another very important point that emerges from this Kesef Mishneh is that heresy, in and of itself, is not a reason not to mourn for someone. It is only because the heretic is called someone who separates from the community that one does not mourn for him. This point has enormous halakhic and philosophical implications for our times, and especially for these memorial days between which we now stand, but this is not the place to elaborate.

In light of all the above, the understanding of the obligation of remembrance on these days seems very clear. On a memorial day for a private individual, we wish to preserve a personal connection that we had with the person who died. Remembrance of his deeds, qualities, and life story, as we wrote above, is only the vehicle for that. So too, on the memorial day for those who fell in Israel's wars, we connect ourselves to the supra-personal continuum (though it is composed of many individuals) of the fallen. This is indeed the fitting foundation for meriting independence, which is the fruit of those acts of self-sacrifice. One who is connected to the community has both the right and the ability to enjoy its merits and the fruits of its efforts. The fallen in Israel's wars, as well as those who perished in the Holocaust on the altar of Jewish identity, are the ones who paved the way—the foundations—by whose merit we, together with them, enjoy the results.

When we merit, with God's help, complete redemption, and all stand in their appointed lot at the end of days, we shall realize (as stated in Machshevot Charutz cited above) that nothing was lost. There the last trace of the difference—that is, the remaining remnant of the difference—that is still felt today between those who sacrificed and those who reap the fruits will be erased.

It may be fitting to conclude with the closing passage of the section of Remembrances in the Musaf prayer of the Day of Remembrance (that is, Rosh Hashanah), in which the relation is expressed between remembrance of past sacrifice and hope for the future, and with it also the transition from Memorial Day to Independence Day:

Our God and God of our fathers, remember us with favorable remembrance before You, and attend to us with an attendance of salvation and mercy from the highest heavens of old. And remember for us, Lord our God, the covenant, the kindness, and the oath that You swore to Abraham our father on Mount Moriah. Let the binding with which Abraham our father bound Isaac his son upon the altar appear before You, and how he overcame his compassion in order to do Your will with a whole heart. So too, may Your compassion overcome Your anger toward us, and in Your great goodness may Your wrath turn away from Your people, Your city, and Your inheritance. And fulfill for us, Lord our God, the word that You promised us in Your Torah through Moses Your servant, from the mouth of Your glory, as it is said: “And I will remember for them the covenant of the first ones, whom I brought out of the land of Egypt before the eyes of the nations, to be their God; I am the Lord.” For You are the One who remembers all that is forgotten from eternity, and there is no forgetting before the throne of Your glory; and may You remember the binding of Isaac for his descendants today with mercy. Blessed are You, Lord, who remembers the covenant. (A plea that God remember the covenant and the binding of Isaac, and turn remembrance into salvation, mercy, and redemption.)