Today, honoring the Meron victims

Last week's tragedy hits very close to home for me, as for so many Jews in Israel and the United States, where we're never more than two degrees removed from anyone. Greeting Shabbat Friday night was more difficult than I'd anticipated, as I realized just how many Jews would be missing this and all future Sabbaths — many of whom I could easily have sat across from at a Shabbat table.

Golda Meir was Prime Minister when I attended my first of overnight Lag b'Omer celebrations at Mount Meron, and I've been to a few more over the years. It is always a special, deeply spiritual, overcrowded and utterly crazy experience. I remember some Sephardic families arriving with the sheep they would be slaughtering and eating in large tents over their extended stay, music and hawkers on loudspeakers, bonfires, and hasidic fathers dancing with their three-year-old sons after their ceremonial first haircut. In the 21st century, it's become more high-tech and clearly no less chaotic.

One of those visits was the year after high school graduation, the same point in life as some of Thursday's victims. With various highs and lows over the decades since, it is hard and sobering to imagine if my life had ended decades ago on that night. 

According to Jewish tradition, however we spend eternity isn't nearly as important as what we do with our limited time here on this earth. This life is our only opportunity to accumulate merits, to exercise our free will and choose the path of God, including prayer and hundreds of commandments that guide our days, our annual calendar, and our lifecycle. We must not take this life for granted.

Fulfilling these commandments can be a source of great joy, especially on special occasions like Lag b'Omer, the 33rd day of the annual period of mourning for the thousands of scholars who died from plague two millennia ago. The dead cannot pray, the dead cannot freely serve God. We are supposed to keep our tzitzit (prayer fringes) tucked in when walking past a cemetery, lest we taunt those who can no longer perform such mitzvot (God's commandments).

As the State of Israel observes an official day of mourning for the 45 people who were lost last Thursday night at Meron, opposite the holy city of Tzfat, I urge my fellow Jews to be mindful, recite appropriate Tehillim (passages from Psalms), and make an extra effort to perform mitzvot in the merit of these souls who can no longer fulfill their obligations.

To honor these 45 men and boys who will never again wear tefillin (prayer straps mandated in Deuteronomy), I specifically encourage everyone with access to a set of tefillin to do so today. With special gratitude for the gift we enjoy of life and of service to our Creator. I have no doubt that every one of these holy Jews held the daily mitzvah of tefillin in high regard and never lost sight of its importance, and always considered a pleasure rather than a burden. (The one 12-year old among them must have been so excited about beginning this practice ahead of his 13th birthday.)

They came to Meron to express devotion to a higher calling, and to do so with joy. I ask anyone who can to aspire likewise, today of all days.

May their memories be a blessing.