The 8th Anniversary of 9/11 - Parshat Nitzavim

The number 7 carries special significance in Jewish ritual. After all, 7 represents shelimut – wholeness. The Torah records the 7 days of the world’s creation. Tonight we enter into the 7th day of Shabbat, thus completing our week. If 7 represents such fullness, then 8 signifies the opportunity of a new beginning. In a few weeks, we will celebrate the 7 days of sukkot and on the 8th day, shemini artzeret, we enter into the fall season. Similarly, the 8 days of channukah represented a new beginning for the Maccabees who rededicated the temple, and likewise represents our emergence from the winter solstice. I say all of this in honor of the 8th anniversary of 9/11, which we remember this evening. Tonight we observe the yahrtzeit for the 3,000 men, women and children who tragically lost their lives on that day. We remember them with honor and affection and reach out to their loved ones whose lives remain shattered by the events of that day. We mourn as a global community.
In the eight years since that tragic day, our world has witnessed additional tragedy and loss. Two major wars which have taken the lives of over 5,000 brave American soldiers, as well as tens if not hundreds of thousands of Afghani and Iraqi citizens. The chasm between East and West has widened and Iran has emerged as major power broker in the region. As we enter into the 9th year of these conflicts, the American people are engaged in fierce debate over the merits and goals of our military actions. Needless to say, it has been a challenging period. We are in desperate need of a turning point.
The 8th day celebration of shemini artzeret includes an important line of liturgy, in which we call out for the new season of rain. The blessing reads, “Livracha ve lo liklalah, lesova velo leratzon, lechayim ve lo lemavet. [Let this be a year of] blessing and not curse, for plenty and not scarcity, for life and not for death.” And so on this 8th anniversary of 9/11, we ask this blessing be bestowed on each of us. For just as 9/11 has fostered great loss and tragedy, so too does it present an opportunity for reconciliation and eventual blessing. Let me give you a personal example.
One year after 9/11, I was a first year rabbinical student in Jerusalem. It was a tough year for all of us. The Iraq war lay on the horizon, eventually beginning in the Spring semester. We students were given gas masks to carry with us in case of a biological attack. I had to seal my bedroom off with plastic and duct tape. A fog of fear and apprehension lay over the country. For the Sukkot break, I decided to leave the stressful environment of Jerusalem and volunteer on a kibbutz in order to work on my Hebrew. And so I moved to Kibbutz Ginnegar in the central Yisrael valley, where I was placed on a construction crew with a team of Arab Israeli workers. They would become my Hebrew teachers for the next 2 weeks and my vocabulary grew to include such words as mazmir (nail), sulam (ladder) and patish (hammer).
One morning, my co-workers asked if I wanted to put any of my music into the stereo that accompanied us everywhere. I just so happened to be listening to “The Rising”, Bruce Springsteen’s album about 9/11. I remember putting on the song, “Into the Fire”. The song opens with the words,

The sky was falling and streaked with blood
I heard you calling me then you disappeared into the dust
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs into the fire

My co-worker Jamal, asked me to translate the lyrics for him. I did my best in my broken Hebrew. He turned to me and asked, “The two towers falling on 9/11 – did that really happen?” “Yes it did”, I responded. “Did you know anyone in the towers?” “Yes, I did.” He paused for a moment. “How big were the two towers?” “Really, really big”. “Taller than the chadar ochel?” The chadar ochel, our cafeteria, was a two story building of around 3,000 square feet. “Much, much bigger,” I said. Imagine 100 of those buildings stacked one on top of another, all the way into the sky.” Jamal looked up and shook his head. “I can’t even imagine it…Can you translate the rest of the song for me?”
I did my best to meet his request. And in the coming days, our discussion over 9/11 opened a window into an honest and deep dialogue over American/Arab and Jewish /Muslim interactions. As we tarred a roof, we talked about the relationship between Jewish and Muslim Israelis. As we pruned bushes, we talked about low literacy and high unemployment rates in the Arab world. As we built a fence, we talked about the role of women in society. As we rode in our mini-tractor, we talked about the Israeli war of independence from both the Jewish and Muslim perspectives. Jamal and I became friends to the point that he invited me to his home to eat with his wife and children. When my parents visited from the US, we met Jamal in his Arab village for lunch. While we spoke in polite and respectful terms, we held no punches and avoided no topic. This became one of the most meaningful educational moments of my experience that year.
Livracha ve lo liklalah – For blessing and not for curse. In this pivotal moment, 9/11 created an opportunity for learning and understanding. The pain of tragedy was transformed into sympathy and thoughtfulness. And so on this 8th anniversary of 9/11, may we call this our great challenge. Yes, we are still at war. Yes, animosity between East and West grows stronger. Yet we stand at a crossroads in history as we decide what to make of this moment. Signs for optimism abound – whether it be albeit disputed elections in both Iraq and Afghanistan; the election of an African American President born to a Muslim father or the introduction to the first Muslim member of the House of Representatives. Throughout the world, synagogues and mosques are beginning to create lasting ties. On Sunday night, Rabbi Wolf-Prusan and I will celebrate Ramadan with the Islamic Society of San Francisco mosque alongside other members of the interfaith community. In November, we will continue our twinning relationship with the ISSF and invite their imam to speak here at Emanu-El. The Interfaith Council of San Francisco has developed several programs dedicated towards greater understanding between our communities. Overall, 9/11 has served as a galvanizing force to create peace and goodwill in the face of conflict. It has opened our eyes to the festering sore between our communities, and gave us good reason to address them now.
In the rabbinic homilies of Pirke Avot, Ben Azzai says: Mitzvah gorreret mitzvah. Averah gorreret averah. (4:2) That is, one mitzvah leads to another and one transgression leads to another. Today, we remember 9/11 with great sadness. We dedicate ourselves towards continuing down the path of mitzvah and not averah; towards blessing and not curse; life and not death. In tonight’s Torah portion, Moses addresses the Israelites on the eve of entering the land of Israel. He offers these words of God, “I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life – so that you and your offspring will live.” (Deut 30:19) As we enter into the new opportunity of this 8th year of commemoration of the tragedy of 9/11, may this task be our great project. Ken yihiyeh ratzon. May it be God’s will. Amen.