Yom Hashoah: A Missed Vigil, A Shared Commitment
- Reverend Gin Bishop
- Apr 18
- 2 min read
This year, I had planned to host a candlelight vigil for Yom Hashoah, a day of remembrance for the six million Jewish lives lost during the Holocaust. It was meant to be a space for reflection, unity, and a collective commitment to ensuring that the lessons of history are never forgotten.

However, life has a way of intertwining personal grief with collective mourning. In the wake of my own brother’s untimely passing, I found myself unable to hold this event. The weight of loss—both personal and historical—felt overwhelming, and I needed to step back to honor my own mourning.
Yom Hashoah, also known as Holocaust Remembrance Day, is a time to pause and reflect on the atrocities of the past, to honor the resilience of survivors, and to reaffirm our dedication to combating hatred and injustice in all its forms. It is a day that reminds us of the fragility of humanity and the strength of the human spirit.
While I could not gather with you this year, I want to emphasize the importance of this day and the values it represents. The Holocaust was not just a tragedy for the Jewish people—it was a tragedy for all of humanity. It serves as a stark reminder of what can happen when prejudice, hatred, and indifference go unchecked.

The act of lighting a candle may seem small, but it carries profound symbolism. Each flame represents a life lost, a story untold, a future stolen. It also represents hope—a light in the darkness, a commitment to remember, and a promise to never let history repeat itself.
Though we could not stand together in person, I encourage each of you to take a moment to reflect, to light a candle in your own space, and to honor the memory of those who perished. Let us also remember the survivors, whose courage and stories continue to inspire us to build a world rooted in compassion and understanding.
As I navigate my own grief, I am reminded of the interconnectedness of all loss. Personal and collective mourning are not separate—they are threads in the same tapestry of human experience. My brother’s memory, like the memories of those we honor on Yom Hashoah, will live on in the actions we take and the love we share.

Thank you for your understanding and for continuing to uphold the spirit of Yom Hashoah in your own ways. Together, even in our separate spaces, we can ensure that the lessons of history are never forgotten and that the light of remembrance continues to shine.
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