Some of my earliest recollections of any topic in Jewish history come from coffee table books. You know – the large, glossy photo collections about various moments in Jewish history or culture that sit in living rooms.

The topic that stands out most is Holocaust books. What makes a coffee table book unique is its focus on imagery. We had our fair share of history learning in school and at home, but a picture is worth a thousand words. And the Holocaust, being a moment in “modern” history, provided a unique opportunity for those of us growing up post-Holocaust to glimpse life in Europe.

I remember being shocked by the scenes of bodies in pits. Pictures of German soldiers laughing at Jews. Pictures of civilians watching with delight as atrocities unfolded around them. These images have a way of never leaving your active memory.

Anyone who has read enough Holocaust history knows that every good book begins with context. The glory days of Jewish life in pre-war Europe can almost feel like a fantasy. The vibrant culture, with Jewish newspapers and literature. The romanticized shtetl with its bustling streets. The proliferation of Torah learning in the great centers of European Jewry and beyond.

Thanks to the advent of the camera, these beautiful scenes were documented – captured well enough to fill coffee tables for generations. We sit as comfortable Americans, flipping through the pages, looking back at the last generation of European Jewry. It is hard to forget the smiles on the faces of those who, we know, would perish only a few years later. The contrast between the innocence of the image and the reader’s knowledge of what is to come is haunting.

You look at those images on the thick, glossy pages and want to yell back through time: Do something! Get out! A storm is coming! Get on a boat to Palestine! Follow those who heard the call and find safer shores!

But those cries go unheard. The past is the past.

The coffee table book may be less central in the modern home. We are inundated with images and noise every day. But the power of an image to tell a story has not changed.

So look through the lens of history – at today.

When organizers of Pesach programs in Miami, Cancun, Las Vegas, and beyond post their polished images – the cigar nights, the entertainment, the indulgence – they are writing captions for the present.

But those same images may one day sit in a coffee table book.

And what will the caption say then? What will the author of “The Last Generation of American Jewry” have to say about your family’s photos?

What story will be told about the Diaspora Jew – so comfortable, so content – that even as history unfolded, they escaped to ever more exotic destinations, indulging in luxuries while something far greater was happening around them?

What story will be told about the multi-generational Seder celebrations happening in unheard of lavishness, dancing to the words “Next year in Jerusalem”, when next year’s Pesach program is already booked?

I think about the images of Jewish communities across North America proudly celebrating their “shuk” Pesach – importing Israeli products to recreate a reality that mimics something deeper.

What will those coffee table books say about these marketplaces? About the smiling, innocent, perhaps unaware faces looking back at us?

I think about the images of people proudly embracing new ways of avoiding the beauty of a holiday meant for the home – a holiday meant to refocus us on redemption – only to dig their heels in deeper and declare: “We are here to stay.”

I think about the faces of the children in that future coffee table book – on boat rides along the banks of Babylon – taken further and further from home.

When history writes those books, which pages will you appear on?

I can’t scream at pages of a book that are still unwritten. But the least we can do is make our voices heard where we can.

It’s time to come home.

There is a book waiting to be written – one that is vibrant, colorful, and hopeful. A book that, unlike so many others written about the Jewish people, has a happy ending.

This is not a call to come home because the tides are turning. This is not a call to come home because the walls are caving in, or because America is no longer safe.

This is a casting call.

A new book is being written about this generation.

There will come a time when the images of innocent, affluent, and comfortable American Jewry – lost in missing the point – will be placed side by side with the story of a revolution that ushered in a new era for the Jewish people.

When those chapters are written, where do you want your name to appear?

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)