There is one moment from the
Belarus trip that stands out from all the others. It happened
early on in the restoration work in the cemetery in Luna. A few
of us were lifting one of the gravestones and doing so with
considerable effort since we hadn’t perfected the process yet.
When the stone was set upright I began to read the inscription.
It was written in Hebrew, a language I thought I had forgotten
after studying it for 9 years. After I read the inscription,
which honored a man like any modern inscription would, I just
let the moment sink in. There I was, standing on the land of my
birth and speaking the language of my people. From soil both
sanctified as the final resting place of the pious and defiled
by the senseless slaughter of innocents, arose a symbol of
immortality. When the dirt was wiped away from the inscription,
I read about a man who the world had forgotten for 150 years. By
remembering him even for a moment, I made sure he would never be
completely forgotten. He deserved more, but at least it was
something. Around me I could hear both Russian and English being
spoken. I could see my friends from Dartmouth and the local
people from Belarus. Everyone was both exhausted and
exhilarated. While I usually despise what I refer to as manual
labor, there is an unarguable honor in hard work for a deserving
cause. The reason this moment, as opposed to the countless other
amazing experiences of the trip, stands first in my mind is
because it represented everything that the trip was to me.
Working side by side with my friends, for the first time in my
life appreciating that I could speak Russian, seeing the country
of my birth, honoring those who have lived before me, and
remembering a language I hadn’t spoken since middle school were
some of the things that made this trip so memorable to me. One
other thing that I will always remember was reciting the
biblical passage where God ordered Abraham to leave his native
land; Go forth, from your land, from your place of birth,
from your father’s house, and go to the land which I shall give
onto you. There I was, an American on Belarusian soil
speaking Hebrew, on the way back to the United States. The story
of my life I guess…
Yan Shurin ’08
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