One year ago, we stood together at this cemetery with hearts weighed down by grief as we laid Paul Winter to rest. Today, we gather once again, not to relive that painful farewell, but to consecrate his matzevah, the permanent marker of a remarkable life.

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Jewish tradition teaches that during this first year, while those left behind slowly learn to navigate life without their loved one, the soul continues its own spiritual ascent. The unveiling of the matzevah marks both an ending and a beginning. It acknowledges that although our grief never completely disappears, memory begins to take root. The stone before us is not merely a monument to someone who died. It is a reminder of someone whose life continues to shape all who knew him.

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Paul Winter was, first and foremost, a true mensch.

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He was a beloved husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle and friend. Above all else, family came first. Those who knew him best have told me that nothing gave him greater joy than being a father and grandfather. His greatest achievements were never the titles he held or the accolades he received. They were the people standing here today, the children and grandchildren whom he loved so deeply and of whom he was immensely proud.

Paul was born in Budapest in 1941, during one of the darkest chapters of Jewish history. As a young child he experienced the unimaginable horrors of the Holocaust, living in a ghetto for international citizens before eventually making his way through a displaced persons camp in Germany and later to Australia.

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Many people would have been broken by such experiences. Paul was not.

He possessed extraordinary resilience. Time and again, life placed obstacles in his path, yet he never allowed adversity to define him. Instead, it deepened his compassion, strengthened his character and gave him an unwavering determination to keep moving forward.

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That determination became one of the defining qualities of his life.

If Paul began something, he finished it.

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Perhaps no example captures this more powerfully than the remarkable fact that he completed his Holocaust testimony the very day before he passed away. He understood that some responsibilities are too important to leave unfinished. He wanted future generations to know. He wanted history to remember. Even in his final hours, he was still teaching.

Paul was indeed a lifelong educator and learner, but he was also an inventor. His mind was endlessly curious. He loved to think, to question, to create and to improve. He enjoyed conversation, debate and ideas. He was never afraid to express his opinion, whether around the family table or in the pages of the Australian Jewish News. Even when his views were unpopular, he believed that integrity required speaking honestly and standing up for what he believed was right.

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That courage earned him respect.

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He was generous with his time, passionate in his convictions, athletic in spirit, musical in temperament and always eager to keep learning. Whether playing the violin, enjoying sport, playing chess, volunteering in the community or simply spending precious moments with his family, Paul embraced life wholeheartedly.

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Last year, at his funeral, I shared how privileged I had been to witness a beautiful flowering of Paul’s Jewish identity during the final chapter of his life.

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I remember how, when I visited him in hospital, the very first thing he wanted to speak about was not himself but his granddaughter Miriam. His face lit up with pride as he spoke of her Jewish journey.

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I remember standing beside him at the University of Sydney as we affixed a mezuzah to Miriam’s room after the previous one had been removed in what was believed to be an antisemitic act. Surrounded by university officials, Paul stood there quietly but proudly, representing not only his family but the resilience of the Jewish people.

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I remember his joy when putting on tefillin for the very first time at the age of eighty three, and welcoming him to our communal Pesach Seder.

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Those moments have become even more precious over the past year because they remind us that Jewish identity is never measured only by ritual observance. It is measured by pride, by continuity and by the determination to ensure that the next generation carries the flame forward.

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This week’s Torah portion, Parshat Re’eh, opens with the words:

“See, I place before you today a blessing and a curse.”

The Torah does not begin with the word “listen.” It begins with the word “see.”

There are people whose greatest influence comes through their words. Then there are people whose greatest influence comes through the example of their lives.

Paul belonged to the second category.

If we want to understand integrity, we can look at Paul’s life.

If we want to understand resilience, we can look at Paul’s life.

If we want to understand devotion to family, generosity, determination and quiet but unshakable Jewish pride, we can look at Paul’s life.

His life became something that could be seen.

The opening word of our Parsha, “Re’eh”, is an invitation to each of us to ask: what example are we leaving for those who come after us?

Paul answered that question beautifully.

He taught that family comes first.

He taught that a person’s word matters.

He taught that history must never be forgotten.

He taught that perseverance can overcome unimaginable hardship.

He taught that one should never be ashamed of being Jewish.

He taught that finishing what we begin is itself an act of character.

The world is immeasurably richer because Paul Winter lived in it.

To Annette, Suzanne and Seth, Michael and Marlene, Karen and David, to Miriam, James, Lachlan, Alexander, Zara, Liora, Agnes and the entire family:

May you continue to see Paul reflected in one another, in the laughter of the children and grandchildren he adored, in the values he instilled, in the resilience he modelled and in the Jewish pride that continues through every generation of your family.

The stone we unveil today will stand for many decades. It will weather wind and rain. But Paul’s true monument is not this stone.

It is the family he built.

It is the values he lived.

It is the example he left behind.

May his memory continue to inspire all who knew him and may his soul be bound up in the bonds of eternal life.