Rabbi's Blog

The calendar turns to September 11th and once more the scene shifts. The perfect blue New York sky, the succession of images, indelible now, unfathomable then. And then a persistent fear that the day of terror could be just the beginning of something or even, G*d forbid, the end. And over time the emerging of faces of new enemies and names and stories of what would be tallied as 2,978 victims.

As our country braces for, remembers and in many cases relives the day that destroyed so many lives, Jews and especially Israelis are approaching a different anniversary as well. Two years ago, on October 7th, Israel awoke not to the Festival day on the calendar but to the violence of a massive, coordinated attack. Thousands of rockets, towns overrun, families hiding in safe rooms, young people gunned down at a festival, entire communities devastated, and hundreds kidnapped across the border into Gaza.

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By the end of that day, Israel had lost over a thousand people. Many more were left wounded, bereaved, or held hostage, their absence still haunting. The attacks pierced not only Israel’s physical security but its sense of wholeness, shaking the assumption of safety that had taken hold over decades. That day still reverberates as each day since has brought more heartache and a seemingly endless spiral of bloodshed, hatred and terror.

September 11th stands on its own as does October 7th. However, their proximity on two different calendars leads me to think about one through the lens of the other. The theme that runs through remembering both is that we must learn both through what is broken and what is whole. The 40-day period that begins with the month of Elul, during which the attack occurred in 2001, through the Holy Days of Tishrei in which October 7th falls this year, reinforces this theme through the dots and dashes of the shofar blasts.

Our worst fears are triggered as things seem to go to pieces, and they do not necessarily dissipate when order is restored. However, the difference between fear and hope is not a difference between being broken and being whole. The difference between fear and hope is between seeing the brokenness as something to learn from even as we hurt and stand with those who mourn.

May the memories of the fallen and stories of courage inspire us to move from fear to hope and help us find a new path toward wholeness and peace.