Twenty-five years ago, September 11 became a date forever associated with tragedy. For my family, it also became deeply personal. My uncle, Stephen Lefkowitz, was among the nearly 3,000 people whose lives were taken that day.
Each Sept. 11, alongside the collective memories we share as Americans, I carry a family memory as well. Twenty-five years may have passed, but some dates never become merely history. This year, it leads directly into another moment of reflection. As the sun sets this Friday evening, Jews around the world will welcome both Shabbat and Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory, taught that when Rosh Hashanah falls on Shabbat, the combination carries a lesson for the entire year. Shabbat reminds us of a humbling truth. For six days we work, build and attempt to shape the world around us. Then Shabbat arrives and we stop, acknowledging that despite all our accomplishments, we are not masters of the universe.
Yet Judaism does not ask us to become passive observers. The Rebbe described our relationship with the world in seemingly contradictory terms: We are guests in G-d’s world, recognizing that it ultimately belongs to Him. Yet we have also been entrusted with a mission — to make our portion of that world better. The world is not ours to control. But what we do with the part entrusted to us is very much our responsibility.
Few events demonstrated the first truth as painfully as Sept. 11, 2001. In a matter of hours, lives, families and a nation were changed by events they could not control.
But what followed demonstrated the second. Firefighters ran upstairs as others fled down. Strangers helped strangers reach safety. Knowing Stephen, I can easily imagine him doing just that — helping an elderly person or someone with a disability make their way down the stairs as they tried to evacuate.
Americans lined up to donate blood, comforted grieving families and reached out to neighbors. Faced with terrible darkness, countless individuals asked: What can I do? That question lies at the heart of Rosh Hashanah as well.
Jewish tradition teaches that each person should view the world as evenly balanced between good and evil, and our next action as capable of tipping the scale. It is an extraordinary statement about the significance of one human being and one seemingly small act.
We cannot change what happened on Sept. 11, 2001. My family cannot bring back Stephen, nor can thousands of other families bring back those they lost. But we can decide what their memory asks of us.
We can answer hatred with goodness, bridge divisions, notice someone who is hurting, perform another act of kindness and bring a little more light into our corner of the world. Shabbat reminds us that we cannot control everything that happens in this world. Rosh Hashanah reminds us that what we do within it still matters enormously.
Twenty-five years later, we remember those who were taken from us. And then we ask the question their memory leaves with those of us who remain:
What will I do to make this world better?
Rabbi Yitzchok Bergstein is co-director of Chabad of Oak Park-River Forest serving the OPRF and surrounding Jewish communities.