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Our Eternal Light

Today, I struggle with my grief for Ramon as the \"international hero\" and for Ramon as the man who my family and I were privileged to meet, break bread with and get to know personally.
[additional-authors]
February 13, 2003

In every generation, there is one special individual whose
life and deeds are a living, shining reflection of the Torah’s commandment to
“bring clear illuminating olive oil to keep the lamp constantly burning.” This
generation’s ner tamid (eternal light) is Col. Ilan Ramon, z”l. My personal
story will tell you why I characterize him as an eternal light.

It was Jan. 16, and all day long, my 6-year-old daughter,
Shira, went around school telling her friends that her “brother,” Ilan, had
gone up into space that morning. Shira came to school late that day, because
our family sat around the television watching Jewish history being made. What
was most exciting to Shira was the fact that the astronaut with the Israeli
patch on his shoulder had the same name as her own little brother, Ilan. For
the next two weeks, I would ask Shira, “Where’s Ilan?” and her answer was,
“Daddy, you know he’s up in space right now.”

Three years earlier, Shira met Ilan Ramon. Our family sat
together with him and his wife, Rona, at a brunch honoring Machal veterans from
Israel’s War of Independence. His wife sat with my wife, Peni. At the time,
Peni was pregnant with our son — whom we would eventually name Ilan. After I
introduced Col. Ramon to the gathering as a new hero of Israel, and as a
much-needed positive, inspirational role model for today’s youth, his opening
remarks were, “Rabbi Bouskila, the true heroes of Israel are those seated in
this room today, who came from all over the Diaspora to fight for Israel in
1948. They are the heroes that I only heard about growing up in Israel, and
today they serve as my inspirational role models. I consider my standing in
their presence, as an Israeli pilot and Israel’s first astronaut, to be a
greater miracle than space travel itself.”

Words of humility spoken by a true ambassador of the Jewish
people. He then approached my wheelchair-bound father, also a veteran of the
1948 war, grasped his hand and said, “Thank you very much for helping to
provide a homeland for me. I will be proud to represent you in space.”

Words of respect spoken by a true mensch. His kindness
brought tears to my father’s eyes. On Feb 1, Ramon’s tragic death did the same.

Today, I struggle with my grief for Ramon as the
“international hero” and for Ramon as the man who my family and I were
privileged to meet, break bread with and get to know personally.

But beyond the grief, I see light. I look up into the vast
heavens, and in a world that so often hovers with darkness and evil, I see the
eternal flame of Ramon’s positive message of goodwill, for Israel and for all
of humanity, shining brightly as an inspiration for all of us. I look at
Ramon’s photograph, and I see a living ner tamid.

Why is olive oil the oil of choice to kindle the ner tamid?
Because of its clarity and purity. That is why Ramon was Israel’s pilot of
choice to represent us in space. Every pilot has 20/20 vision, but Ramon’s
clarity and vision went far beyond that which the naked eye can see. He had a
“spiritual 20/20 vision,” which is what made him so different and so unique.
Purity? The personal humility and respect for elders that he demonstrated the
morning I met him are the ultimate expressions of purity — purity of character
and purity of the heart.

Rashi explains that a true ner tamid is created by “kindling
a flame, until the flame rises by itself.” Ramon kindled a flame in every
Jewish heart that will continue to rise by itself every day, year after year,
within the hearts, minds and consciousness of the Jewish people everywhere. A
ner tamid is an eternal symbol of light and inspiration. That is Ilan Ramon.

For my daughter, Shira, the name Ilan had special meaning
because it is the name of her brother. For all of us, the name Ilan — Ilan
Ramon — will always have special meaning, because he is our collective brother.

On Jan. 16, our brother, Ilan, went up into space. Two weeks
later — and forever — his spirit will remain there, as a true ner tamid shining
brightly for all of us to see.

God bless you, Ilan, our brother in space. 

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