True Heroism: doing what you have to do

A couple of years ago I was given a sobering definition of a "hero": "someone who does what they are supposed to do". The definition was offered in the context of idol worship, particularly in treating human beings as objects of veneration. Someone racing into a burning building in order to rescue a baby trapped within, the argument went, was merely doing what was expected of them; what else would they do, just sit around and let an innocent child be burned to death?? Of course they would rush in and risk their own life and limb: that was what you would be expected to do, since there was another innocent life at greater risk, one that the figure in this example might be in a position to assist, through their action.
As I say, that was a rather startling revelation for me, as I had always viewed heroism as doing something that you **didn't** need to do, but did anyway. Turning the tables like that, viewing heroism as a basic obligation, presented as the least that you should do, rather than the most one could offer... it was a new way for me to see myself and my world around me, one demanding a connection and commitment to others that I still struggle to live up to.

That struggle has been given new meaning to me again this morning. Reading the following account of the funeral of Professor Liviu Librescu, the 76-year old Holocaust survivor who sacrificed his life in the recent Virginia Tech massacre so that others may live, I was arrested in my tracks by seeing the professor's family striving to express similar sentiments of obligation and duty. From the Jerusalem Post: "I only did what I had to do":

...
The professor's other son, Arie, said his father had "always said to be strong." "Father, I believe that at this moment you're looking down on us from above and saying, what is all this crowing around? I only did what I had to do. From our childhood, you taught us to care for people, to work hard, to succeed, but you never taught us to be heroes. It is more theoretical a lesson than aerodynamics," he said. "A hero must have the right combination of certain attributes, and you had them."
...

The other family members offer sign after sign of the gratitude they feel for having had such a great man in their life. How difficult this must be for them, in a time such as this when they have been delt such a tremendous loss... so much is missing from their life, yet they persevere to find all that their lives have been given, instead:

...
Speaking at the ceremony, Librescu's son Joe lamented the questions he had never asked his father. "They're asking me today about your past, and I don't know what to tell them," he said. "I'm proud of you. I walk today with [my] head held high."
"Sometimes I didn't hear you, but my ears are now wide open to your legacy," he went on. "I'm doing my best, reaching to the moon - I know I can reach it because of you."
Librescu's wife, Marlena, mourned the loss of "not just a husband, but my best friend."
"I was blessed to be with him each day for 42 years - to learn from his wisdom, to receive his advice - and I thank you for giving me our two children. I'm now blessed to be with them," said Marlena.
"I ask forgiveness from you for every time I upset you. I hope you will protect your family from where you reside now," she said, adding, "I have only the good left from you.... May it go easy for you, my sweetheart."
...

Arie thanked family, friends and neighbors in Israel and around the world for all they had done for the family - and particularly for his mother - in their time of loss.
He added special thanks for "a righteous man, an organization, Chabad, someone who drove five hours to mother [the day of the shooting] and made sure the body would come to Israel as soon as possible."
...
Librescu was laid to rest in the Kfar Nahman cemetery in Ra'anana at approximately 12 p.m.

Surrounded by so much pain and so much loss, the family still strive to find good in their life:

According to Arie, his father "used every spare minute to do what he loved." Speaking of his father's teaching, Librescu said that "the courses in aerodynamics have ended. On the 16th of the month, you started a new career, teaching a new subject - heroism - [which] millions of students are learning."

We should all become students of the example of Professor Librescu. Not because we want to: because we **have to**, it is what we **should** be doing.
It is The Right Thing for a human being to do.

(HT to Boker Tov, Boulder, for highlighting this important story)

Acting on Faith in the wake of Virginia Tech

After an evening spent catching up on the evil that occured at Virginia Tech yesterday morning, it felt strange and positively unsettling to see people smiling today. What is there to be happy about, in a bloody world drenched with such malevolence?
I slept a troubled sleep last night, as I was held captive by thoughts of other people in other beds, forced now to sleep alone, or caused to sleep without a child in their lives any more. What despair must they feel, what pain must they now know, suffering as they do from their tragedy. It affected me, as a stranger watching the tragedy unfold at my safe distance; what horror must it be for those so directly touched by it all?
While steeling myself up for the grinding day ahead, this morning I found one story out of the tragedy that I can hang on to, as a source of inspiration to get through the necessary day.

Here's a gentleman who is an incredible example to live up to. From the Jerusalem Post:

As Jews worldwide honored on Monday the memory of those who were murdered in the Holocaust, a 75-year-old survivor sacrificed his life to save his students in Monday's shooting at Virginia Tech College that left 32 dead and over two dozen wounded.
Professor Liviu Librescu, 76, threw himself in front of the shooter, who had attempted to enter his classroom. The Israeli mechanics and engineering lecturer was shot to death, "but all the students lived - because of him," Virginia Tech student Asael Arad - also an Israeli - told Army Radio.
Several of Librescu's other students sent e-mails to his wife, Marlena, telling of how he blocked the gunman's way and saved their lives, said the son, Joe.
"My father blocked the doorway with his body and asked the students to flee," Joe Librescu said in a telephone interview from his home outside of Tel Aviv. "Students started opening windows and jumping out."
Liviu Librescu, was respected in his field, his son said.
"His work was his life in a sense," said Joe. "That was a good place for him to practice his research."
The couple immigrated to Israel from Romania in 1978 and then moved to Virginia in 1986 for his sabbatical, but had stayed since then, Joe told Army Radio.
…

I learn two lessons from Professor Librescu.
First, comes the suggestion of the immense strength of character he must have possessed to have emerged from a nightmare like the Holocaust, in his early teen years, and gone on to start a family and build a successful career. I can’t imagine the horrors that he must have lived through, yet he still managed to keep faith in the human experience and the belief that life was worth living, and worth living well. All the survivors that have similarly gone on to live normal lives, full of love and new life, are equally heroic, and I fear comparing myself to their strength, sensing that I would fall far short of their perseverence. Still, by studying their example, the shortfall may not be as great, since they offer such inspiring role models. Their renewed commitment can teach us the strength to renew our own lives: who can claim to have suffered near as much, and can hold that suffering as an excuse to shirk obligations to live lives worth living? These survivors kept their faith: so should we.

Then comes the more immediate example during yesterday's shooting, as the professor used his body as the shield to save a future generation. He cannot have "known" whether trading his life for that of his students, sparing their families the grief now enveloping his own, that this sacrifice would prove worthwhile. He could not know that in any absolute sense; he engaged in an act of faith, that it shall be proven to be so.

It is much easier to lose faith than to keep it, much more common to forestall mustering up the strength to commit to an act of faith. Might it not be the ultimate challenge: exercising the delicate and ever-so-mysterious muscle by which we invoke our ability to see the unseen, the positive future yet to be, and march towards it.
From every angle we are assailed by reasons to give up on ourselves, and especially to abandon our fellow man. Yet are the Professor Librescus of the world really so rare? Isn’t it a test of our perception skills, to recognize just how many such heroes actually exist alongside us in our world today?
Tens upon tens of thousands of Canadians used themselves as shields to preserve our futures, in World War I and World War II, today thousands more serve in Afghanistan, fulfilling the same duty; they put their lives on the line, willing to sacrifice all and bring pain to their families, in exchange for their faith in us, fellow citizens, sharing as we do the experience of being human, being alive. Like Professor Librescu, they have faith that our future is worth preserving, at a great cost if need be. They don't "know" it, they hope it... they aspire to believe it, and act upon those beliefs.
It is up to us, now, to live up to our side of the bargain, by living lives worth living, dedicated to truth, justice, and beauty, through faith, family and fortune. The students whose lives he saved through his unselfish act of sacrifice have their obligations now revealed clearly to them, and it should be as clear to the rest of us that we are also in similar debt, carrying the same obligation. Ours may be more indirect, but no less real for it.

It is a hard choice to live a purposefully good life, surrounded as we all are by such purposeless evil; it is a continuing, physical act to do so… an act of faith, now today made all the more attainable thanks to the heroic example set by the noble sacrifice of Liviu Librescu.
May he rest in Peace, and may God bring comfort and Peace to his family.