Dear TEE community,
The devastating wildfires in California have left a trail of destruction, claiming lives, homes, and irreplaceable memories. The sheer loss is staggering, prompting reflection on what truly matters in life. In the face of such calamity, I’ve been thinking of an exercise that used to be taught (I hope it isn’t anymore) in lessons about the Holocaust: if you had to leave suddenly, what would you pack in one suitcase? Tragically, this has been the experience of far too many people, not only in California, but in Gaza, Ukraine, Darfur, and other disaster zones.
Jewish tradition serves as a reminder that, ultimately, it is not possessions but people that are most significant. While material items can be lost, the memories they represent are enduring. The objects we cherish often hold deep emotional connections, because they remind us of loved ones, experiences, and important milestones. It is these memories that shape our identities and provide comfort in times of crisis.
Recently, I took on the task of scanning a memoir written by my great-uncle. He served as a Governor of the Federal Reserve and had many stories involving historical figures and events. But it was the “unimportant” details of daily life that I found most significant. His accounts of mundane routines and family gatherings revealed the richness of experiences that earlier generations lived through, often overlooked in the grand narrative of history.
As we navigate our own lives, it is crucial to preserve these memories while we can. For those of us who are older, documenting our stories can provide a legacy for future generations. Conversely, younger individuals should seize the opportunity to ask questions and engage with their elders, capturing the wisdom and experiences that might otherwise be lost. In a world where loss is a constant threat, nurturing our connections and memories becomes not just a comfort, but a vital part of our existence.
Rabbi Drorah Setel