The commandment of tzitzit, then, is associated with memory. In a sense, these fringes are like the proverbial string we tie around our finger to remind us of our daily responsibilities and obligations. Mind you, I’ve never met anyone who actually tied a string on their finger, and I’m not sure how a string can help remind us what we have to do. But we all have our own special methods of remembering.

Some of us walk around with dozens of little slips of paper in our pocket with to do lists and phone numbers. Others have fancy day planners and calendars. Others use new fangled PDA’s and electronic memory devices to enter all the data and dates they need to record. In an age when our lives are crowded, chaotic and filled to the brim with responsibilities, the ability to keep track of where we must go and what we have to do becomes harder and harder.

Maybe that’s why we’re commanded to place fringes on “the corners of” our garments. It is so easy to forget who we are and what’s expected of us. It is far too easy to loose sight of where we come from and how we’re supposed to live. We need a way to remember – but we also have to remember to remember.

Abraham Joshua Heschel used to tell the story of Moshe who was very forgetful. He would wake up each morning and spend at least an hour searching for all his items of clothing. Finally he came up with a brilliant idea. He would write a list of all where everything was just before he went to bed each night and leave right next to his pillow. That way he would know where everything was! That night as he undressed he wrote: “Jacket is on the couch. Shoes under bed. Pants are on the back of the chair. Shirt is in the closet. Yarmulke is on the night table.” Finally as he got under the covers he wrote: “Moishe is in bed.” The plan worked like a charm. Holding his list in the morning, he began to dress. “Ah! My shirt is in the closet. My pants are on the back of the chair. My shoes are under the bed.” But then he came to the end of the list. “Moishe is in bed.” Moishe looked at the bed and began to cry: “Gevalt! I found all my clothes but now I can’t find Moishe! He’s not in bed. Where’s Moishe?”

In Parshat Ha-tzitzit, the passage dealing with the wearing of fringes, we’re told not once but twice to remember. We’re told to “remember the commandments” and “to remember to perform the commandments.” At first glance these statements appear to be the same. If that were not enough we’re also told that it is God who “took us out of the land of Egypt.” It seems that these three statements are part of a process. It is not enough simply to remember; we must remember to act and then we must act to inspire memory in others as well. Memory begins in the mind, it leads to the heart and it reaches its fulfillment in our hands when we use our memory to build and renew the world through our actions.

If you look at this passage again you’ll discover that there are three other verbs associated with the process of memory: Seeing, acting, and finally sanctification. The Torah says, “You shall see, you shall do, and you shall be holy…”
That is how we remember.

This was a week of memory in America. The recent verdict in the trial of Edgar Ray Killen brought many of us back to darker memories from our not so distant past: The lynching of three young men: Andrew Schwerner, James Chaney, and Andrew Goodman. The fact that no one was ever sentenced for this heinous crime is but an example of the terrifying legacy of the pre-civil rights south. This week’s trial, though not as satisfying as it should have been, went a long way in healing the terrible wounds left in the south.

It is also a reminded us of the need for memory. For most young people today the names Schwerner, Chaney and Goodman mean nothing – they’re may not even be in our history books. While we have come a long way in our country, we cannot afford to forget our past, as painful as it is. The Killen trial is a call to action. We need to remember, we need to remember to act and we need to find ways to act in a fashion a world where others will always remember. Americans need a string around their finger or a fringe on their garments. Certain crimes should never be forgotten and they shall never be forgiven.

Some will say that Edgar Killen is an old and sick man. So why bother to sentence him to prison? What purpose can be served in burdening Mississippi with his care in the last years of his life? If real justice was done maybe we would sentence his children to prison. After all, Mr. Killen robbed three young men of ever having families of their own lives, of making their impact on the world, of living their lives fully. For forty one years Killen lived his life as he saw fit while the families of these three young men carried the terrible wounds of hatred and bigotry in their souls. They were victims as much as their sons, their brothers, their friends.

At long last justice has been done. But how can their ever be justice in such a horrific case?
And how can there be justice when the two Senators from Mississippi, Thad Cochran and Trent Lott refused to sign an apology for the Senate’s inaction throughout much of the twentieth century in passing an anti-lynching law. There were almost five thousand documented cases of lynching between 1890 and 1960. Among those who were lynched were not only African Americans but people like Leo Frank, a mild mannered business man in Atlanta. Yet American leaders chose not to act, not to speak out. Despite the fact that there were two hundred pieces of legislation against lynching brought up between 1922 and 1968 the leaders of our senate never passed such a law! And if it were up to Cochran and Lott, as well as others they still wouldn’t. It seems the past is not really dead or gone.

It wasn’t so long ago that African Americans were not considered worthy of the same treatment as those of us who were born white. As Jews we could hide behind our “whiteness.” We could change our names and act more ‘Protestant’ but we knew that deep down we were not so different from the black man or women. Growing up in Miami, in an area, that was heavily Jewish I remember as a very little boy seeing separate water fountains for “negroes” in the local department store. And I remember driving down Miami Beach and hearing my parents comment about which hotels and clubs had a policy of “NO JEWS ALLOWED.” Our children need to know this; they need to understand that prejudice applies to all people – even the ones we don’t like. When we allow prejudice we open ourselves to prejudice as well.

Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov once said, "In remembrance lies the secret of redemption." When we put on a tallit or a tallit katan, we begin the process of redemption. We are reminded of where we come from, of how our ancestors suffered in Egypt, of what our responsibilities are to the world around us and how we should live. It all begins with a thought, a memory, and from that thought, from that memory redemption is born.

I might point out that there is nothing masculine or male about this practice. We all need to remember. And we all need to dedicate ourselves to the sacred memories that have shaped our identity as a people and as a nation. There was a time when men were the primary bearers of sacred memory. Today we understand that this is an obligation, a commitment that all of us share.

We need to remember – but first we need to invent a way to remember that we must remember.

Shabbat Shalom