Rabbi Sam Weinberg

        For years, the Jewish people have been trying to get back to Israel, and specifically to Yerushalayim. The city has passed from the hands of one conquering nation to another, from the Roman Empire to the Byzantine Empire to the Arabs and Crusaders, and back to the Arabs, and so on, but we have still tried our best to remain in the holiest city of all. What about it is so holy, why does it matter to us now? There's no longer a Bait Hamikdash -- true, there's a Kotel, but that's just a remnant -- and Yerushalayim isn't a real strategic, commercial, or industrial center. How has this ancient city, unimportant as it appears, crept to the heart of a fight between Israel and the Palestinians over the future of the land of Israel? In essence, why should we care what happens to Yerushalayim?

We need to begin by understanding the importance of memory. Memory isn't history or the dusty old past lying around in museums. By defining the past, memory creates the present. We define ourselves by our memories. In Hebrew, the word for man is "zachar." The word for memory is "zecher." You can see from this that man is memory.  Without memory, there is no past, but there also is no present, because everything loses its context and its meaning.

It is said about Yerushalayim "אִם-אֶשְׁכָּחֵךְ יְרוּשָׁלִָם תִּשְׁכַּח יְמִינִי תִּדְבַּק לְשׁוֹנִי, לְחִכִּי אִם לֹא אֶזְכְּרֵכִי:אִם-לֹא אַעֲלֶה, אֶת-יְרוּשָׁלִַם עַל, רֹאשׁ שִׂמְחָתִי. (If I forget you Yerushalayim, let my right hand lose its strength. Let my tongue cling to my palate if I fail to recall you, if I fail to elevate Yerushalayim above my highest joy.)" Remembering Yerushalayim somehow is linked to our current state as a people. But how? What is the memory of Yerushalayim, and what does it contribute to who we are?

The Talmud says Yerushalayim was named by G-d. The name has two parts: Yira, which means "to see," and shalem, which means "peace."

Yerushalayim was the place of Avraham's sacrifice of Yitzchak, and Avraham said of Yerushalayim, "This is the place where G-d is seen."

We see that, elsewhere, but in Yerushalayim, G-d is seen, and felt, as a tangible presence. In Yerushalayim, we reach beyond the frailty and vulnerability of our lives, and we sense and strive for something higher.

The Talmud says that creation began in Yerushalayim, and the world radiated outward from this place. Medieval maps show Yerushalayim at the epicenter of Asia, Europe, and Africa. The world flows into this spot, and all life's forces resonate here. From this place, the whole world is cast into perspective.

Once upon a time, the Temple Mount was the highest point in the city of Yerushalayim, but in the year 135, Roman slaves carried away the dirt of the mountain, and turned it into the valley we now look down on from the Old City. The Romans expelled Jews from Yerushalayim and barred them from reentering. Jewish life, they said, has now ended. The Crusaders rewrote Yerushalayim's importance as the center no longer of Jewish national drama, but the site of the religious Christian importance. Like the Romans they expelled Jews, and destroyed synagogues. The Muslims, too, tried to change Yerushalayim, in many of the same ways. 

In rewriting the history of Yerushalayim each of these cultures rewrote our place, the Jewish place, in history. They sent us, they thought, to the dustbin of history - a once great people, now abandoned by G-d; bypassed by time. But instead of giving up and fulfilling what the other nations said about us, Jews preserved Yerushalayim as a memory, and also as a hope for the future. When we built our houses, we left a square unplastered, and we break a glass at weddings in memory of Yerushalayim. Our houses face Mizrach -- towards Yerushalayim, and in exile for two thousand years Jews said "Next year in Yerushalayim."

From all over the world we turned and prayed toward Yerushalayim, and because memory was kept alive, against all efforts to the contrary, the Jewish people lived.

When Yerushalayim was liberated, the past became present. What we had longed for became ours.  The past was instantly present, incredibly transforming who we knew ourselves to be.

Already divided by language, by geography, and even by religion, and even pettier differences, our people are bound only by threads of memory and of hope. These threads are extremely fragile. If they break we will fragment completely, and the long exile of our people - not by any means over, even with the state of Israel as it is, is the consequence, of the arguments that tear us apart.

To this threat, Yerushalayim provides counterpoint, for Yerushalayim embodies our memories and hopes. Yerushalayim is a living memory, a vision of G-d in our lives. Yerushalayim gives us the strength to achieve what we as a people must do, to unite ourselves, and to sanctify this world.

 And what about Chevron? As mentioned before, memory is what defines us as ourselves. Chevron is where our ancestors were buried and where many historical moments, such as the anointing of David HaMelech, took place. Because of this, it symbolizes our past, gives meaning to our present, and lends its strength to our future.

These two places are the foundation of Judaism and we should appreciate the fact that we have such easy access to them. Let us keep this in mind as we celebrate Israel's 67th birthday.

Thanks to aish.com for inspiring the theme of this dvar Torah.