An excerpt of a longer piece by Jonathan Miller.
"In Jewish custom, we read the names of those who are dear to us who have been buried over the past week, and those who have died within the past month, and those who died on this week in years past. Memory is sacred for Jews. We take this obligation to remember very seriously.
Just a few short months after the United States' 2003 invasion of Iraq, we began to read the names of our fallen American soldiers, Jewish and non-Jewish, who have died in service to our country. Every week, we read their names, and we have been doing so now for nine years. We mention the country in which our soldiers were killed, and their names and their ages.
My children are in their 20s, and when I read the names of the fallen teenagers and 20-year-olds who had their entire lives ahead of them, I am filled with a recurring sadness. I see the faces of my own children, or their friends, and their families. The nameless casualties of those we send to war have a name for a brief moment, and a face, too.
Sometimes, our casualties are older men and sometimes women who are in their 30s and 40s and sometimes even their 50s, and I picture people I know or myself at their stage of life.
For a brief moment, I place in my heart and prayers the unknown names of grieving widows and lovers and children whose lives have been upended by the sudden and horrific sadness that comes from loving a fallen soldier of war. I don't know these survivors' names or what they look like, but I know the faces of people who have stood by in shock as they lay to rest their fathers and mothers, their brothers and sisters, their children, their classmates and their neighbors.
For that moment, when we read their names, we take these people into our hearts with love. It is so sad. And every week for the past nine years, it has not become less sad. We have not become inured to the losses of the names we read out loud. It is the duty of those who are comfortable and send others off to war to acknowledge the sacrifice of our fellow citizens. Today, nine years later, nobody questions the reading of the names and ages of our fallen soldiers. We pray for them and their families. How could we let them go unmentioned?
Memorial Day is Monday. Too many of us prepare ourselves for this solemn day with sunscreen, barbecue sauce and bathing suits. I guess that is a good thing. Our lives here are blessed with freedom.
But we ought to also shed a tear or share a thought or even a name of one of the young or old men or women who have given their loves so we might enjoy our freedoms. Whatever your opinion of these wars or the wars that came before these wars, or the wars that came before those wars, not to remember our fallen soldiers is a sacrilege."
....
"In our country, Memorial Day should be tinged with sadness. We have lost that. And even when we have our day off from work, let me encourage you in your church or the shopping mall, or as you travel home from the mountains or the beach, to stop for two minutes sometime during the day. Stand by your car or with your families at the dinner table. You don't have to say anything. Just stand and be quiet and still, and remember our fallen soldiers who have given so much, too much, so we can enjoy our lives as free people.
May the memories of our fallen soldiers be sweet to us, and may we ever be grateful for their sacrifice. Remember them."
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Originally designated Decoration Day - it was officially first observed on May 30, 1868 - 'designated for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion.' It was not until 1971 that it was switched to the last Monday in May.
Someone who recalls earlier, more solemn observances, shared:
'Decoration Day was a day when almost everyone went to their family cemetery's to pay respect to the dead whether they were in a war or not. It was a solemn time of respect and reverence.'
