Two deaths within twenty four hours stand in marked contrast to one another. Two nights ago, the news broke that actor Heath Ledger was dead at age twenty eight. This morning, we learned that Miles Lerman, a "founding father" of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum had died at age eighty eight. Both are occasions for sadness and grief. But I am most struck by their contrasts and the ways we may find inspiration in the wake of such news. Heath Ledger gained great fame through his Oscar nominated performance in “Brokeback Mountain.” Ledger was a new father and a rising Hollywood star. By any fair expectation, he had a long life ahead of him.
Miles Lerman was a Holocaust survivor who had escaped a Nazi slave labor camp and joined a
Jewish partisan unit. After the war he made his way through DP camps to the United States where he became a successful businessman, an activist for Holocaust studies and genocide prevention, and a philanthropist. He was a leading force behind the creation and development of the US Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., and another large memorial in Poland. Mr. Lerman had seen and experienced things none us want in our worst nightmares. By any fair expectation, his life should have ended decades earlier.
The news that Heath Ledger died elicits mostly sadness and questions about our own mortality and lost youth. There is much to celebrate from Ledger’s short life, but his death touches the nerve of dark helplessness: the reminder that any of us could go at anytime; the acknowledgement that the sunniest day could bring the most miserable chill. On the other hand, the death of Miles Lerman is more of a cause for celebratory reflection and hope: good can overcome evil, we can survive the worst things imaginable, we can even thrive afterwards, and fight for good causes throughout our remaining years. Mr. Lerman’s legacy is evident in the continued work of the Holocaust Museum and its affiliates to identify previously anonymous victims (see the Museum's work on the International Tracing Service), to recover stolen property from seventy years ago, and shine light on genocide in the darkest places today.
I can not help but think of the unetaneh tokef prayer from Rosh Hashanah: “who shall live and who shall die…” So many Jews – from senior colleagues to children – have told me how much they hate that prayer. That’s a pretty strong emotion for a once-a-year prayer. But its words strike a raw nerve at a bad time. During the high holy days, we are already laden with the misdeeds of our past year and we would much rather think of the positive future. But I have always found the image of a secret Book of Life to be the good metaphor for reality. I don’t think there is a disembodied deity who sits with quill and ink to inscribe our names. I do believe, however, that at a certain point we are nearly powerless to affect who shall live and who shall die. My reasonable expectations have never been a guaranteed predictor of what actually occurs. So, I accept as well the prayer’s formula for relief: tefillah, teshuvah, and tzedakah. Tefillah, pray or act in any way that acknowledges a higher power - not because the deity will answer the prayer by writing you in the “life” column of the Book, but because your willingness to pray is your willingness to acknowledge that are things beyond your own control. Teshuva, focus on your relationships and act to make them good. Forgiveness, love, and gratitude can and should be cultivated. Tzedakah. Be altruistic. Think of and give to others – including those you don’t even know.
My condolences go out to the Ledger and Lerman families. As our prayers say: May the memory of both men provide inspiration for others to do good things and to live as they, in their best moments, tried to live.
Miles Lerman was a Holocaust survivor who had escaped a Nazi slave labor camp and joined a
Jewish partisan unit. After the war he made his way through DP camps to the United States where he became a successful businessman, an activist for Holocaust studies and genocide prevention, and a philanthropist. He was a leading force behind the creation and development of the US Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., and another large memorial in Poland. Mr. Lerman had seen and experienced things none us want in our worst nightmares. By any fair expectation, his life should have ended decades earlier.The news that Heath Ledger died elicits mostly sadness and questions about our own mortality and lost youth. There is much to celebrate from Ledger’s short life, but his death touches the nerve of dark helplessness: the reminder that any of us could go at anytime; the acknowledgement that the sunniest day could bring the most miserable chill. On the other hand, the death of Miles Lerman is more of a cause for celebratory reflection and hope: good can overcome evil, we can survive the worst things imaginable, we can even thrive afterwards, and fight for good causes throughout our remaining years. Mr. Lerman’s legacy is evident in the continued work of the Holocaust Museum and its affiliates to identify previously anonymous victims (see the Museum's work on the International Tracing Service), to recover stolen property from seventy years ago, and shine light on genocide in the darkest places today.
I can not help but think of the unetaneh tokef prayer from Rosh Hashanah: “who shall live and who shall die…” So many Jews – from senior colleagues to children – have told me how much they hate that prayer. That’s a pretty strong emotion for a once-a-year prayer. But its words strike a raw nerve at a bad time. During the high holy days, we are already laden with the misdeeds of our past year and we would much rather think of the positive future. But I have always found the image of a secret Book of Life to be the good metaphor for reality. I don’t think there is a disembodied deity who sits with quill and ink to inscribe our names. I do believe, however, that at a certain point we are nearly powerless to affect who shall live and who shall die. My reasonable expectations have never been a guaranteed predictor of what actually occurs. So, I accept as well the prayer’s formula for relief: tefillah, teshuvah, and tzedakah. Tefillah, pray or act in any way that acknowledges a higher power - not because the deity will answer the prayer by writing you in the “life” column of the Book, but because your willingness to pray is your willingness to acknowledge that are things beyond your own control. Teshuva, focus on your relationships and act to make them good. Forgiveness, love, and gratitude can and should be cultivated. Tzedakah. Be altruistic. Think of and give to others – including those you don’t even know.
My condolences go out to the Ledger and Lerman families. As our prayers say: May the memory of both men provide inspiration for others to do good things and to live as they, in their best moments, tried to live.
