In Jewish tradition, memory isn’t just about the past—it’s a call to action in the present. On Yom HaShoah, we don’t remember simply to commemorate. We remember to build, to shape, and to live more intentionally. Memory is woven into the fabric of Jewish life. And not just memory of loss, but memory of resilience, survival, joy, and community.
At this time of year, as Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) arrives, the weight and power of memory are especially present. But it’s more than a memorial day on the calendar. It’s a reminder that Jewish identity is rooted in collective memory—and that remembering is a spiritual practice.
More Than History: Memory as a Core Value
For generations, memory has served as the glue that holds the Jewish people together. We are told to remember the Exodus from Egypt—not once a year, but daily. We recall the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem, the journeys of exile, and the stories of ancestors who endured and adapted across time and geography.
But memory in Judaism isn’t nostalgia. It’s purpose-driven. We remember the bitterness of slavery so that we don’t become oppressors. We remember the wanderings so that we welcome the stranger. We remember those who suffered not to be consumed by grief, but to honor them by building something better.
Memory is not passive. It’s transformative, and Yom HaShoah gives us a day where we can put this to practice.
How Memory Shapes Who We Are
Memory is more than information stored in our minds; it’s a living force that informs our sense of self. For many Jews—especially younger generations—it may not be a personal memory of the Holocaust or a shtetl, but rather a sense of inherited memory. We carry stories passed down by parents, grandparents, and teachers. These stories form an emotional roadmap: they teach us what to value, what to question, and how to find meaning.
This is especially powerful in moments of transition or challenge. We may be celebrating a new beginning or grappling with collective trauma, memory connects us to those who came before, and reminds us that we’re not alone.
Bringing Memory into Daily Life
You don’t need to be a historian to keep memory alive. There are small, beautiful ways to make memory a part of your routine—ways that deepen Jewish identity without needing to sit in a classroom or attend a formal commemoration.
Here are some practical and creative ideas:
1. Create a Personal Memory Ritual
Set aside five minutes each week—maybe on Friday afternoon before Shabbat—to recall or write down a memory that shaped you. It could be a conversation with a grandparent, a childhood Passover Seder, or something as simple as learning to braid challah. Over time, these stories record who you are and where you come from.
2. Make Memory Visual
Collect old family photos or Jewish ritual items and create a “memory shelf” in your home. Even if your Jewish journey began recently or you’re reconnecting with it, choose items that symbolize your evolving identity. Physical reminders help ground us in a sense of continuity.
3. Tell Someone a Story
Next time you’re with a friend, a child, or a community group, share a meaningful Jewish story—something you experienced or heard. Storytelling keeps memory alive not just in our minds, but in the collective voice of our people.
4. Cook from Memory
Choose a dish your family made or a recipe connected to a Jewish holiday. As you cook, tell someone the story behind it—or write it down. Food is one of the most powerful carriers of memory, and every bite holds a story.
5. Take Memory Outside
Go for a walk and reflect on the people who shaped your Jewish journey—teachers, mentors, family, or even fictional characters from books you loved. You can even dedicate your walk to someone’s memory, a kind of moving meditation that connects body and soul.
Memory as Resistance and Resilience
In the wake of tragedy—whether personal or communal—remembering becomes a form of resistance. To remember is to insist that lives, voices, and experiences mattered. That they still do. Especially on Yom HaShoah, we say “Never Forget” not just as a warning, but as a promise: to carry memory forward, to let it shape a world where dignity and justice prevail.
Jewish identity is not fixed—it’s a living, breathing journey. But memory grounds it. It reminds us who we are, where we’ve been, and what we’re capable of becoming.
Choosing to remember is a radical act in a world that moves fast and forgets easily. It’s also a deeply Jewish one.
Photo credit: Canva
