In the Aftermath…

Reflections the Morning After

Dr. Aaron Twerski

“Does the shofar sound in a city and the nation does not fear?” The prophetic words of Amos came home to us yesterday. We had hardly completed sounding the shofar after Shacharis when we heard another shofar that came with a tekiya and shevarim. The Twin Towers were hit with straight blasts, and then broke apart and collapsed. And indeed America as a whole, and the Jewish people in particular, were filled with fear.

In a few moments, it dawned on us that we are vulnerable. Terrorists are not confined to the West Bank, Haifa, Gilo and Jerusalem. They reached New York City and the Pentagon in Washington D.C., and did so in a manner so horrific, that words cannot describe the fear and angst. The mighty Twin Towers, a fixture in the skyline of New York was no more. The Pentagon, the seat of the American military, was on fire. The loss of life was calculated to be in the thousands. The horrendous fear on the faces of multitudes escaping the burning inferno in Lower Manhattan looms large in our memories.

The terror in not knowing for days on end whether family and friends, next-door neighbors, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters were alive…. The panic during the day, not knowing whether the valiant (there must be some better word) Hatzolah volunteers made it out of the Towers before they collapsed….

The thousands of telephone calls from parents to yeshivos and day schools wanting to know what security precautions were in place. Should we pick up our children now? Are the buildings locked? Is there police protection? Will I see my shefala tonight?

The revulsion to the remarks on the street that it’s the fault of the Jews. The question that Dan Rather of NBC asked Shimon Peres: “What do we tell the American people when they ask is this not due to America’s support for Israel?” (Yes, of course, blame the victim not the criminal.) The decision of CNN to run only Arafat’s statement denouncing the terrorism, but refusing to show the Arabs dancing in the street in Nablus. The knowledge that our existence in the American galus is precarious. But worse than everything is our own sense of helplessness. We throw up our hands in despair. It is out of my control. And therein lies the greatest danger. As a good friend pointed out to me this morning, we have forgotten the second half of the pasuk in Amos:

“Can evil befall a city and Hashem did not cause it to be?”

It will not do to hear the shofar, tremble… and stop there. Fear alone will bring no good unless it leads to introspection and the resolve to turn our lives around. The Rambam’s words in Hilchos Taanis are unmistakably clear:

1. It is a positive Torah command to cry out and sound trumpets on any affliction that befalls the community….

2. Such action is consistent with the ways of teshuva (repentance). When troubles occur, and people respond with crying out…, all will realize that their misdeeds are at the source of their misfortune… and this will inspire them to bring an end to their affliction.

3. But if there is no crying, no trumpeting, and people say that their suffering is a normal aspect of life – mere coincidence – this is a cruel reaction and encourages them to persist in their evil practices. And so, over and above this misfortune, worse will befall them, as it says in the Torah: “And if you act with me bekeri (with happenstance), then I too will deal with you in furious keri.” That is, if when I bring afflictions upon you to inspire you to teshuva, and you will respond by dismissing it as keri – coincidence – I will bring upon you the fury that such keri-reaction warrants.

Rambam Hilchos Taaniyos I, 1-3

Let the rest of the world look at bin Laden. We must look at ourselves: “Lev yodei’a moras nafsho.” We each know our own vulnerabilities. And in the dark of night, we know that area of weakness all too well. We just have difficulty believing that we make a difference. The holy Baal Shem once asked: Chazal tell us that every day a bas kol (heavenly voice) emanates from Har Sinai calling “Shuvu banim shovavim. Return, My wayward sons.” The Baal Shem pondered, What good is the bas kol – what purpose does it serve – if no one hears it? And he answered his own question: Every day, every Jew has pangs of conscience and feelings of remorse. Those stirrings are initiated by the bas kol. But, why then do we not respond to this heavenly voice? I suspect that it is because we don’t believe that G-d speaks to us. “What, Hashem talks to ‘little ole me’? You’ve got to be kidding! Sinful me does not warrant a private audience with Hashem.”

But, that is all wrong. The Holy Tzaddik of Avritch once said that one who does not believe that Hashem dwells within him, even in his state of imperfection and sin, is to be considered an apostate (min). If we are to combat our sense of helplessness and despair, we can only do so by turning inward. But to do so, we must believe not only in Hashem but in the divine spark that lies within us. That we count and that our actions can effect us for the better, and change the course of the world. The disciple of the Baal Shem, the Toldos Yaakov Yosef, put it well. The three books – for Tzaddikim, Benonim and Resha’im – that are opened on Rosh Hashana are not dependent on past acts. We are asked in which book we wish to enter our names for the coming year. We must have the courage to sign the Book of Tzaddikim. And when we do so, the world will change. For h”bkhv rzvg kydxhMyykm . The Tzaddik commands, and the Al-mighty sustains his order.

The above words were jotted down on September 12, in the midst of the Days of Selichos. Although the calendar puts us weeks beyond the Season of Reckoning, Introspection and Improvement, the mood of those weeks still prevails. The wakeup call of the tekia and shevarim still pulsates in our community, and continues to set the tone for our thought. The pages that follow conform to that wakeup call.

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