Above the commotion of a modern city, Har Hazikaron, the Mount of Remembrance, overlooks Jerusalem.  Here, thousands of sweet evergreen cabob trees line the avenue leading to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Martyrs' and Heroes' Remembrance Authority.  This vast memorial seeks to provide an appropriate “place and name” (the translation of the Hebrew Yad Vashem) to document the history of the Jewish people during the Holocaust period of 1933-1945.  The site preserves the memory of six million victims and depicts the devastating legacy of the Holocaust for future generations.  Throughout the immense commemorative resources of the site, thousands of evergreen trees stand as stalwarts of solemnity and symbols of the renewal of life as they honor the hasidei ummot ha-olam, the Righteous Among the Nations. 

The Righteous, as the phrase is commonly shortened in Jewish life, represent the tiny minority of non-Jews who chose not to remain passive bystanders during the Holocaust.  Instead, these men and women risked their own lives to help the Jewish people they understood to be equal in the eyes of God.  Plaques adorn the trees with the names of the individual rescuers who have been honored along with the country they call home.  In 1963, Yad Vashem set about the global task of granting the hallowed title, Righteous Among the Nations, to individual Gentiles by careful identification procedures and Holocaust survivor accounts.  As of January 2007, over twenty-one thousand people have been recognized as Righteous Among the Nations.  These rescuers came from all walks of life, parts of the world, and religious backgrounds.  Sadly, the number of rescuers honored to date pales sickeningly in comparison with the conservative estimates of those who perished.  Perhaps it is therefore all the more beautiful that Jewish reflection on the Holocaust does leave room for the moral conduct evidenced by this fragment, the Righteous, amidst the horrendous atrocities experienced.  As twenty-first century believers in Jesus Christ, we too must reflect on the courageous acts of the Righteous and be challenged by their incredible demonstration of love for humanity.

Engraved unassumingly on a plaque in Yad Vashem, reads, “André and Magda Trocmé, France.”  This French Reformed pastor and his wife represent one story among thousands of courageous Gentiles.  Pastor Trocmé believed that the dignity and invaluable worth of every human life could not be compromised.  He taught his congregation, largely comprised of Huguenot descendants who remembered their own history of persecution, to found their respect for the sanctity of life in the Sixth Commandment—Thou shalt not kill, Ex. 20:13—and in the revolutionary teachings of Christ.  Trocmé reminded his flock the day after France surrendered to Nazi Germany, “The responsibility of Christians is to resist the violence that will be brought to bear on their consciences through the weapons of the Spirit.”  By vigorously applying the armor of God (Eph. 6:10-17) and realizing their weapons of the Spirit had the divine power to demolish strongholds (2 Cor. 10:4), the five thousand Christian villagers of Le Chambon were able to save an estimated five thousand Jews. 

Some plaques on the Avenue of the Righteous reflect the names of those who hid Jews in battle zones while others provided escape routes to safer countries; some took Jewish children in their homes as their own, and still others showed kindness to those interned in labor camps.  These names symbolize those who performed simple daily acts of service to secret houseguests and also those who partook in large, complex rescue plans.  The Avenue of the Righteous signifies moments when the chains of injustice were loosened and the oppressed were set free, when food was shared with the hungry and shelter with the poor wanderer—moments when one did not turn away from his neighbor.  And so on a tree lined avenue on Har Hazikaron, we catch a glimpse of what it must have looked like for the light of the Righteous to rise forth out of the dark years of the Holocaust (Is. 58:6-10). 

Many years removed from the Holocaust, we might learn of the Righteous Gentiles of the Holocaust and in turn consider what we would have done in their place.  Would we have taken up the weapons of the Spirit and sought perfect Love that casts out fear on behalf of the Jewish people?  Would we have heard the cry of the oppressed as our Father did (Ex. 22:23)?  Are these questions relevant?  Perhaps instead we should imagine a Har Hazikaron in twenty years looking out over a refugee camp in Chad, a jungle hideout for internally displaced persons in Burma, and a brothel filled with pre-teens in Thailand.  One rises above a makeshift base for child soldiers in Uganda, an abandoned school for girls in Afghanistan, and an impoverished neighborhood in our own city.  On those Mounts of Remembrance, what is there currently worth emblemizing?  Would there even be a future Avenue of the Righteous?  Are we a people who act on the behalf of others?  Would we risk our comfort, our resources, and our lives to rescue the oppressed?     

These questions are daunting.  Thankfully, we serve a God who is not intimidated by our fears, insecurities, or ignorance.  He graciously has set patterns for seeking justice in His Word so that we may lay a foundation of Truth to undergird the passions that stir us to action.  He fervently teaches respect for each life formed in His image.  In the midst of our inadequacy for the task, He makes us a promise: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled (Mt. 5:6).”  By trusting in Christ to fill us with His righteousness through His Spirit, we are enabled to act on behalf of the oppressed, persecuted, and broken-hearted no matter their location.  May we be people who choose to act in the face of injustice, so that names are engraved in the tree-lined Avenue of the Righteous on that future Har Hazikaron.  There, our trees will be oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor (Is. 61:3).