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Remembering Our Heroes (Yizkor, Yom Kippur 2006)
From a poem called My Hero:
They are the grandest of people
to have lived on this earth,
Although they’re not royal
by stature or birth.
They exude great dignity,
honor and strength.
Their merits are noble,
and of admirable length.
They are far greater
than all the others I know,
I call them family, mentor,
or friend
My hero.
What makes a person a hero? What makes us regard them so highly, tell their stories, or even want to be like the people who are our heroes?
Perhaps it is talent. An athlete, an artist, a leader who can do things us mere mortals can’t – who makes all of the hard stuff look so easy – may be seen by adoring fans or followers as a hero.
What makes a person a hero?
Perhaps it is bravery. Heroes seem to emerge in tough situations.
Then again, maybe being a hero is a matter of sheer strength. Superman and Wonder Woman were more than just heroes – they were comic superheroes! The word in Hebrew for hero is gibbor. One character who is called a gibbor is Samson. Big, muscular, with long hair, Samson fits this description of a hero perfectly.
But the Hebrew word gibbor is also used in another sense in our tradition. In fact, during one of our prayers we sing out:
Atah Gibbor L’Olam Adonai
You are an eternal gibbor Adonai, our hero forever!
This prayer then goes on to tell what it is that makes God a gibbor – a hero. God, You have given us a gift: life. Your power is focused on helping us. With love, You sustain us and with great compassion You give us the drive to go on. You help those who fall down. You heal the sick. You free those who are held captive and keep faith with those who sleep in the dust.
These are the true qualities of a gibbor. When God does them, we see them as gifts from the highest realms of heaven. When people do these things, we see them as godsends, as the heroes that they truly are. And when those people are gone, we can’t help but stand back and think of them and all they meant to us.
This afternoon, we remember those people in our lives who stood out. They were special. And while we may have never thought of them this way, they are heroes – each one emulating a quality that seems to come from a place beyond the human realm. God is a gibbor; and so were they.
The people we remember today gave us the gift of life or helped us realize that life is truly a gift. They focused on helping us. They sustained us and moved us along. They were there for us when we needed compassion, giving us the drive to go on. When we fell, they helped us. Sometimes this meant physically picking us up, putting a Band Aid on a scratched knee or taking us to the doctor. At other times, it meant being there for us spiritually. They took care of us when we were sick. They helped us out of tough situations and helped us stay strong even when times were tough.
Earlier this year, I reconnected with a friend who I hadn’t seen or spoken to since we were in high school. The reason that I got in touch with him after so many years was that his dad had passed away. The call wasn’t easy to place. Yet, once we started talking it felt as though we had just seen each other only days ago and not decades ago. At the start of the call, after the initial disbelief had worn off, I shared my sympathies with him. We did some more catching up and then he and I started to talk again about his father. I always looked up to his father. His dad took us to football games, came in to talk with us when we were hanging around his house or swimming outside. He was a hard worker, but above all, he was a nice man – a mensch. In fact, when I was just a kid, I made a list of the 5 men I admired most and wanted to grow up to be like – my 5 heroes. Now that I look back at that list, I am amazed that it didn’t contain any rock stars or athletes. In fact, my list was made up of people I knew personally: one of my uncles, my grandfather, and three of my friend’s dads. Had I known the word gibbor then, I would have said that each of these guys was a gibbor. They were kind, compassionate, and good-hearted. They cared. My friends departed father was on this list. When I told him that his father was one of my heroes, he paused and then thanked me. It meant a lot to him that one of his peers saw his dad this way. I could hear in his voice how tough it was for him now that his dad had passed on. He had lost his father and he had lost a friend. His dad was more than just any old dad. He was also his hero.
For some of us, referring to those we remember at Yizkor time as heroes is quite easy. The images and recollections of our loved ones is positive. We know that no one is perfect, but the people we’re remembering had those qualities that are associated with a gibbor. They were there for us in time of need. They picked us up when we fell down. They encouraged us, and modeled goodness, love, and understanding.
For others, calling our departed loved ones heroes, referring to one of more of them as a gibbor, just doesn’t feel right. They were flawed, they treated us wrong, they caused us pain, they were never there. To remember them is tough enough. To call them heroes may be impossible. In cases like this it is important to keep in mind that so often our loved ones try their best. Yizkor for Yom Kippur is the occasion for us to remember that just as we are asking God to remember us and be compassionate for we have made mistakes, so too should we act towards those who are no longer with us. If need be, this is our time to forgive them. Maybe they will never be a gibbor in our eyes. But this is the occasion for us to remember them as aba or ima, brother or sister, husband, wife, or child.
This afternoon, we have gathered together to remember our own. Just as we remember our own close relatives, we need to acknowledge that we are also part of a larger Jewish family. In just 34 days this summer, 44 Israeli civilians and 119 Israeli soldiers were killed by enemy attacks. Our worlds are less without them and our hearts connect to the many grieving families whose lives are changed forever.
As the war was raging, I thought about a conversation I once had with a reporter in Gainesville, Florida. My family was about to visit Israel after a particularly violent period. The reporter wanted to know why we were going to Israel. I explained that we have family there and that we felt it important to visit with them. I mean, imagine not visiting a loved during a time of need. Visiting Israel wasn’t a choice; it was a necessity. The reporter then said to me: “Rabbi, this is more than a necessity. What you and your family are doing is brave. It is heroic.” I corrected the reporter: “We are not the heroes. Our family and friends in Israel are the ones that have to live through this. We’re just visiting, as well we should.”
The fact is that our family in Israel – Israelis in general, for that matter – don’t see themselves as heroes. Whether years ago or this summer, they are just living their lives. Yet, as the stories from this summer’s war began to make their way from the front in Lebanon to the streets of Israel, there was one soldier whose actions caught the attention of Israelis as well as Jews worldwide as being both brace and heroic. His name was Ro’i Klein, a Major and Deputy Commander in a unit from the elite Golani brigade. He was also a husband and the father of two small children. Ro’i and his men were in a fierce battle when a grenade landed right near him. If it went off, it would surely kill everyone. Realizing this, Ro’i sacrificed his own life by jumping on the grenade. The explosion killed him. However, he saved the lives of the other men in his unit. Klein’s last words, heard by the others near him, were the words of the Shema. These are among the first words that all Jews learn. They are also supposed to be the words that we utter when we die. Ro’i Klein, for saving others, was truly brave, a hero whose story speaks of dedication and sacrifice of the highest order.
On Yom Kippur, there is a tradition of remembering the heroes of our people, those who died, willingly or otherwise at the hands of our enemies and oppressors. Today, we remember them realizing, sadly, that this list has grown yet again.
We remember each of them. We also remember the heroes who played a role in our own lives and who have gone to their eternal rest. For today, as we remember the heroes of our people as a whole, perhaps the lesson is that we should see our departed family members – dads, moms, brothers, sisters, spouses, and even children – each of them as a gibbor.
May their memories always be for a blessing. AMEN |
