On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was the rabbi of a small shul in Portland, Oregon. That year, we were saying Selichos in the home of a congregant who was sitting shivah — in a small community, the entire minyan moves to the mourner’s home. We had just gathered in his living room and were about to begin when one of our members rushed in, visibly agitated. “Stop! Turn on the television!”
It seemed a strange request just as we were beginning to daven, but we turned it on. The first tower had already been struck, and as we watched, the second plane hit. Any lingering thought that this might have been an accident disappeared. We stared in horror, frightened about what was happening and where it might lead. Like many of those present, I had a great deal of family in New York.
Eventually, we turned off the television and began Selichos, but the words now carried an urgency unlike anything I had experienced before. Ha-misratzeh b’rachamim u’mispayes b’tachanunim — we appealed to the One who receives our prayers with mercy: Please protect our people. Please protect America.
When I visited New York several weeks later, the smell of dust and destruction still hung in the air near Ground Zero. Looking back 25 years later, 9/11 was a moment when America awakened to the terrifying reality of terrorism and, at least for a time, understood more deeply what Israel had endured for so long. Some have retained that understanding; others have not. But the lesson of how fragile our lives are remains.
Now, with October 7 also seared into our memories, we enter another Rosh HaShanah with so much for which to pray.
