Dandelions and Lullabies

There is something to be said for dandelions. Their yellow sunshines light up yards in the spring. They remind you that life is coming again. Tenacious ones grow on the margins, right out of the asphalt when you’re not watching. And as they grow, they change. They leave. They find new homes far away. But they never forget that they are dandelions, and I’d like to think that each tumbling seed remembers where it came from.

This week was my first Yom HaShoah, a Jewish remembrance day for the victims and survivors/heroes of the Holocaust. In Israel, they mark the day with sirens that stop all work and traffic to remember the six million lost. In the United States, the day largely passes unnoticed by people outside of the Jewish community.

What does the Holocaust mean to those of us not born Jewish? The Torah says that all Jews stood at Mount Sinai when Moses descended — those present, those yet to be born, and those yet to convert. But what relationship do the unborn have with the Night of Broken Glass? What relationship do converts have with what happened at Auschwitz? Were we all present there as well?

At our Shabbat service this week, six yellow tulips were placed in a vase. While the number six represents how many millions were lost, the flowers themselves represent how the Jewish community continues to grow and flourish.

I don’t see too many well-pruned yellow tulips each spring, but it seems impossible to miss all of the dandelions. Maybe there’s something to that.

Laila tov, my sweet love, goodnight.
How the moon and stars shine for you so bright!
Rest now, my love, may your dreams be sweet.
How my love for you reaches to infinity.

Hashkiveinu Adonai eloheinu,
v’ha-amideinu malkeinu l’chayim.