Kaddish for All

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Whatever faith, philosophy, belief system, or not, that you espouse, or don't; today is again Holocaust Memorial Day. Perhaps now, more than ever in the history of the human race, we need to fix the events of that time in the memories of those with no personal memory of that time, either direct or at close third hand. These are the generations who are growing ever more distant in proximity from those unimaginable horrors, inflicted by humans on other humans, simply on the grounds of abstractions of race-hate philosophies born of similarly disconnected memories and histories.

History. Memory. Both are the necessary recording of past experience, outwith one's present; without which we flail, context-less in a sea of unknowing, drowning in our own ignorance, and failing to understand ourselves, let alone our neighbours: our fellow travellers on the short journey from birth to death. However, we still, unfortunately, seem incapable of coming together as a species, let alone as a family. Therein exists our paradox. Desperate to belong, we alienate. Desperate for tribe and family, we discriminate. Desperate for succour, we eschew intimacy. Acceptance of one's own mortality is the appreciation of another's.

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