The Day We Forgot To Remember

A Reflection on the Jewish Response to the Holocaust

Today is Yom Hashoah. It is the day selected by the State of Israel to commemorate the six million lost. It should be a momentous day. But for the vast majority of Jews, it isn’t. Many religious Jews don’t recognize any significance to the day, and for many secular Jews it’s simply a legal holiday in Israel. Some Jews may attribute some significance to it, but it is still one of the more minor dates on the Jewish calendar. How can this be? As a nation we still celebrate every year our founding story of the Exodus, and the destruction of the Temple two millennia ago does not go unnoticed. We have a national consciousness that only gives the rest of the world what to strive for. So how can it be that the most significant event for our people in the last century is so far off the radar?

I will make an audacious claim.

It is because Judaism is dead.

Don’t get me wrong. Jews and Judaism are thriving like never before. Both as a religion and as a nation, many aspects of Jewish life are flourishing on a scale beyond what we’ve ever seen. But something is missing.

We lost the dynamism of the religious response. The ability to continue the story that began three thousand years ago.

Of course, there is much investment in many projects and organizations related to the Holocaust. Many Jews still see the existence of the State of Israel or the rebuilding of Jewish communities, families, and Yeshivot as our response to the great loss we endured. But it has failed to take on a life of its own - a sort of mythological, larger-than-life memory such as those we retain of far more ancient memories.

A secular (in the sense of not particularly related to religion) response may involve focus on Jewish identity, security, or acceptance. But there is something in the religious language that such responses can never emulate. The Purim story, the Maccabean revolt, the Roman destruction of Jerusalem, or even the Spanish Inquisition contain deep associations which evokes something deep in the Jewish heart, pulls the right strings in our souls. But the Holocaust might never achieve that power. Because we failed to apply the national consciousness embedded in our religious dialogue to these more recent events. It has not been incorporated into Jewish tradition in the same deeply meaningful manner. Judaism then was responsive. It felt the pain of the suffering of our people, celebrated our victories, and carried these memories alongside us in our daily prayers, rituals, and discussions.

But Judaism today is dead. We have left such responses to the relatively apathetic practical side of things.

Religion is such a powerful tool. Why must we stop using it?