Remembering Those Who Stand Watch

Every Friday evening, before we conclude our Kabbalat Shabbat service, I offer a prayer for the health, safety, and speedy return of the members of the United States Armed Forces serving throughout the world.

I've done so during times of war. I've done so during times of peace. And I've done so for many years. Most synagogues don’t. Some of you may have wondered why.

Part of the answer is personal. Years ago, I served as an officer in the United States Navy Reserve from 1984 -1991. My time in uniform was one of the great educational experiences of my life. While I would never claim to know what it is like to serve in combat, I learned enough about military life, deployment, and sacrifice to understand that the men and women who wear our nation's uniform carry burdens that most Americans will never experience.

But there is another reason I continue to offer that prayer every week.

When I was growing up, almost everyone knew someone knew someone who was serving or had served in the military. A father. A brother. An uncle. A neighbor. Military service was woven into the fabric of American life.

That is no longer true. Today, only a tiny percentage of Americans serve in uniform. Many of us have little personal connection to the military. In 1970, approximately 1.5% -1.7%, or about 1 out of every 60 Americans was serving on active duty. Today, that number is 1 out of every 250 Americans, a 75% decline in the share of the population serving, even though the nation's population has grown by well over 130 million people. For many of us, the burdens of military service are carried by someone else's son or daughter. We enjoy the security they provide without ever knowing their names, where they are stationed, or what dangers they face. That reality came home to me this week.

Earlier this week, it was reported that approximately one hundred American service members had been injured in recent military operations connected with the collapse of the ceasefire with Iran. I was startled. We had all heard about several tragic deaths. But I suspect most Americans, myself included, had no real knowledge of the total human cost that had already been borne.

Whether one supports current military operations or opposes them is, for the purposes of this Shabbat message, beside the point.

One hundred young Americans have been injured. One hundred families received frightening phone calls. One hundred lives were changed. And most of us scarcely noticed.

As I reflected on that, my thoughts turned to Devarim the Book of Deuteronomy, which we began reading last Shabbat. More than any other book of the Torah, Deuteronomy is about memory.

In this week’s Torah reading, Vaetchanan, Moses tells the people " But take utmost care and watch yourselves scrupulously, so that you do not forget the things that you saw with your own eyes and so that they do not fade from your mind as long as you live..." (Deuteronomy 4:9).

But Moses is speaking to a generation that had never personally experienced many of the defining events of Jewish history. They were children of the Exodus. They had not known Egyptian slavery as adults. Their challenge was not remembering what they had experienced. It was remembering what others had experienced on their behalf.

That is why Deuteronomy repeatedly commands us to remember. In Judaism, remembering  is not merely an act of the mind. It is an act of moral responsibility.

Perhaps that is our challenge as Americans as well.

Most of us have never worn the uniform of our country. Most of us have never stood watch through the night, boarded a transport aircraft bound for a distant conflict, or waited for news from a loved one serving overseas. But that does not relieve us of the obligation to remember.

We need not support every military action to honor those who have chosen to serve.

We need not agree with every President to pray for the young men and women sent into harm's way.

In a democracy, citizens will inevitably disagree about when wars should be fought and how they should be conducted. Those are important debates, and they should continue.

But even as we debate military policy, we should first remember the human beings who bear its consequences.

That is just one of many reasons we will never fail to offer this prayer every Shabbat and holiday. It is my small attempt to ensure that in our corner of Northern New Jersey, the men and women serving far from home are never forgotten.

Deuteronomy reminds us that a faithful society remembers blessings it did not earn and sacrifices it did not personally make.

This Shabbat, we will remember those who stand watch while we gather to pray. And may God watch over them until they return safely home.