let me tell you a story about a torah scroll.
there is a shul somewhere.
they have a chapel, a lovely chapel, a beautiful chapel.
the ark comes from a shul in europe. it had been preserved by the nazis, so young nazis of future generations could, one supposes, point and laugh and remember the people their forefathers had turned into ash. but for a while, they did not have the torah of that community, which was hardly surprising; most torah scrolls did not survive.
as it happens, the one of this community did. it was in london. so the rabbi flew out to get it.
it is burnt, the people in charge of it said. it is damaged, it cannot be repaired, really. you cannot read from it, it will make things worse.
that's okay, the rabbi said. we will be careful, the rabbi said.
in 1989, the ark and its torah were reunited.
today, when children become b'nei mitzvah there, when they carry the torah around, it is that torah, that torah the nazis intended to use in an exhibit on an extinct people. it is a living reminder that they failed, that every day jewish children are being born, being raised. that every day people convert to judaism. that jews are not extinct.
but.
when the children carry it, it is easy. because the scroll is so light, because so much is missing. because we may still exist, and that is good, that is very good. but we are not the same as we once were, as we could have been. so many jews are missing. so many torah scrolls, so many scholars, so many songs and stories and lullabies and books and worlds, and we will never get those back. they are gone to us, forever.
let me tell you a story about a torah scroll.
