I still remember that time clearly, even though 25 years have now passed. The clear blue sky was marred by two columns of black smoke arching across the river to Brooklyn, where I lived at the time. Colorful posters of the missing were plastered all over the city, reminding everyone of the infinite value of every human life. Strangers extended quiet kindnesses to one another on the subway and in coffee shops.
I was a recent college graduate, trying to find my way in the world. I held a few part-time jobs, including teaching Hebrew school at a synagogue in Manhattan. In the weeks following the tragedy, I found my purpose: to build on my role at the synagogue and ultimately become a rabbi. The wisdom, perspective, beauty, and sense of community I found in Judaism became a beacon and a salve in the face of death and destruction. I could think of no higher calling than helping others make their way through this confusing, challenging, unfair, and sometimes tragic existence.
Rabbi Rebecca Epstein
I truly believe all great faith traditions have a vital part to play in the human story. Each provides a unique way for people to cultivate God’s presence on earth. Judaism, for its part, places a special emphasis on “choosing life.” What does that mean? For me, after September 11th, Judaism provided a clear mandate: when tragedy strikes, do not despair. Do not give up, throw up your hands, or bury your head in the sand. Instead, help others. Cultivate gratitude and joy—even in the darkest times. Look to the future and build the world you want to see.
“Choosing life” carries another meaning as well. It means no leader, ideology, slogan, dogma, or religion has the final word on truth or the right way to see the world or exist in the world. We have seen throughout history—and we saw on September 11th—what happens when ideology morphs into extremism. When, instead of choosing life, people become so consumed by dogma that they justify destroying human life and bringing about devastation. Unfortunately, we see this trend in many pockets of the world today, including our own backyards—and within our own hearts.
Remarkably, the 25th anniversary of September 11th coincides this year with the Jewish New Year, a season of repentance and renewal that begins with Rosh Hashanah and concludes a month later after Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Simchat Torah. My prayer this New Year is that we all take to heart the legacy of September 11th and the responsibility of choosing life. As we reflect on our present, honor the lives tragically extinguished on that day, and look toward the future before us, let us remember that we always have a choice—and let us always choose life.
