Two weeks ago, I stood with some of you at a special service in our cemetery. We came together to remember loved ones who are buried in our sacred ground. It was a warm day – the sun shone brightly. Some of us wore hats and sunglasses, others carried umbrellas …… and some people brought stones with them: stones that they kept in their pockets or their purses. Maybe you were there. Perhaps, during the service you slipped a hand in your pocket or purse and you felt a stone – mingled in with your keys, your loose change or your chapstick (or loose tic-tacs). And as you touched it and felt its coolness – perhaps you thought about what you were going to do with it – how you were going to place it on top of the grave of your loved one on that sunny day.
It’s a strange custom - placing a stone on a grave. Some say we do it instead of bringing flowers – because flowers are temporary – they wither and fade quickly. Stones are eternal – like love is eternal.
Others - the sociologists and anthropologists among us - believe that the custom of placing a stone on a grave is a remnant of an ancient practice: the stone becomes a talisman – to ward off evil spirits - to protect our loved ones on their long journey from this world to the next.
I heard a wonderful story several years ago when I was leading a congregational trip to Israel and we made a stop at Har Herzl – Israel’s national cemetery. There we stood in front of the graves of Theodore Herzl – the father of modern Zionism – Golda Meir, Yitzchak Rabin and so many others who built up the Jewish state. To see their graves is to see hundreds – perhaps thousands – of small stones –piled one atop the other – stones that were left by those who had come to pay tribute. Our guide told us that one possible reason we bring stones to the cemetery comes from an ancient practice that predated the idea of headstones. Today, we commission a headstone to be cut and carefully placed on the grave of a loved one. In olden days, it was the mourners in the community who built the monument – pebble by pebble, stone by stone, lovingly placed by those left behind who came to pay tribute and respect to the deceased. As each stone was placed atop the next, the monument emerged – growing with every placement until a mound of stones – a hill of memories – took shape.
Today we have come to this sacred place to remember our loved ones. Some of us are carrying stones – they weigh heavily in our hearts. These are not physical stones that we can actually touch, but we feel their weight nonetheless. These stones are the memories, the joys, the loss, the questions –sometimes even the anger – and the love that fills our souls – especially at this time of remembrance. When we come to Yizkor, we let down our guard. Here we are permitted to feel the absence of the loved ones in our lives. The emptiness that their deaths have created is palpable. And so we cry. And when our tears flow, we are not alone. Like those ancient graves made of pebbles, each tear has a purpose – each that we shed tear joins together with those of all who are with us today – and all who ever felt a loss over the ages. Our tears merge together and create what my colleague, Rabbi Jeffrey Salkin, has called a River of tears that has accompanied our people throughout our wanderings. It flows when are hearts are filled with emotion: whether with joy or sadness – at our simchas and our sorrows.
I want to you take a moment and focus on the image of a river of tears that is fed from the wellsprings of our hearts. See it flowing – even overflowing the banks that try to contain it.
Now I want you to focus on the stones that you carry in your heart.
Take one out. – just one. Feel its weight.
Now - toss it into that river. See how it ripples – see the circles that emanate out from the point where it splashed into the water – growing larger and larger until they seem to disappear….
But they don’t disappear, do they? Those circles keep on going – even when we can no longer see them.
In the same way – those whom we love – who are no more – still have an impact in our world. When we remember them – when we remember their love, their laughter, their silliness and their soulfulness – we are ensuring that their impact will continue.
When we find ourselves saying the things that they said; doing the things that they did; laughing at their jokes – cheering their successes and feeling their failures. When we work on their behalf to continue the legacy of love and caring that they have bequeathed to us – we are keeping their memory alive.
When we are determined to keep on living – to celebrate the gift of life that they had to relinquish – we are building a monument to their legacies.
My friends – today is the day that we are acutely aware of both the fragility and all of the possibilities of life. On this sacred day we remember; we give thanks and we allow our tears to flow.
Our task – as we prepare to bid farewell to this holiest of days – is not to cast away our grief – that would be impossible and unhealthy. Our task is to learn to live with our grief – to use it to build a monument to our loved ones who have died – a monument, not made of stones, but of our actions – our vision – our determination to repair this all too imperfect world that is so flawed and so amazingly beautiful.
Stones are eternal. Love is eternal. May we learn to embrace the stones we carry in our hearts – and use them to remember, to build and to cast away the pain, the hurt and the loss that is a lasting legacy.
Yehi Zichram Baruch – may their memories be for a blessing. AMEN
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