Rosh HaShanah 5762: “Whence Cometh Our Help”
(by Rabbi Howard L. Apothaker, with news and resources off the Internet, NYT, A. Lavinsky, et. al.)
This sermon is copyrighted to Rabbi Howard L. Apothaker, Ph.D.
NO REDISTIBUTION OR REPUBLICATION IS PERMITTED.
Esah Einai El Heharim, Mei-ayin Yavo Ezri
Ezri Mei-im Adonai Oseh Shamayim va-aretz
I lift up my eyes to the mountains, whence comes my help
My help comes from Adonai, Maker of Heaven and Earth.
Last evening, Erev Rosh HaShanah, we sand this together. The events of last week had many people asking this question: Whence cometh my help? I was on a radio interview show out of Dayton and received this question. “Could I say, ‘Our help cometh from the Lord?’”
And I read this passage over this week and remembered the exact phrasing ... Me-im Adonai. Strange, I had never, ever seen it his way in the thousands of times I had this phrase. I even wrote a tune that the sing here at Temple Beth Shalom using the words of this psalm and I didn’t see it.
Literally, “My help comes ‘from with’ Adonai,” mei meaning “from” God, and im meaning “with,” implying that I am acting with G-d’s imprimatur in a godly fashion. I am acting with G-d from the tools of mind, heart and spirit with which G-d has supplied me. We certainly have been witness to this partnership in the past few days.
This morning, I want to tell three stories of heroism, stories that emerge from the ash of this day, at this approximate hour, exactly one week ago. These stories — all three — recall what Lincoln said at Gettysburg when he spoke of those who gave ... “THE LAST FULL MEASURE OF SELFLESS DEVOTION.”
“The target of Flight 93 was, according to most, probably the Capitol, the White House, or the Pentagon, something significant,” said a spokesperson. “Somebody made a heroic effort to keep this plane from hitting a populated area.”
If what we are now fairly certain of is true, then three men, neither military men nor government personal, but three ordinary citizens, put their minds and bodies, their hearts and their spirits together to thwart the plans of their captures, and in doing so, gave their lives to save hundreds, and perhaps more.
As you may have heard or read, it was ninety minutes into its flight from Newark, N.J., to San Francisco on Tuesday morning and the passengers of United Flight 93 were just finishing breakfast when radar detected the plane veering sharply south. In San Ramon, a bedroom community in the Bay Area, it was approaching 6:30 am. when the phone rang. Deena Burnett, who was feeding her three children breakfast, was watching television replays of the terrible destruction at the World Trade Center. Her husband, Tom, away on business for a few days, was on the other end of the line.
“Are you OK?” she asked cautiously. “No,” came the reply from the San Francisco medical device executive. Her heart sank. Then she heard him say the other words: His plane had been hijacked. “I’m on the airplane. They’ve already knifed a guy. They’re saying they have a bomb. Call the authorities.”
Like Burnett, Jeremy Glick, 6′2″, 220 pounds, who was headed to San Francisco on business, called his wife, using a phone installed in a seat back. Lyzbeth Glick said her husband asked about what was going on in New York. Rumors about a disaster at the World Trade Center were spreading among the passengers.
He asked her to call the police. Ms. Glick’s mother contacted authorities from a separate phone, and 911 dispatchers eventually listened in on the call. During that fifteen or twenty minutes, in which Jeremy Glick gave all the information he could, Lyz Glick reports, “He said I had to be strong for him, and for me, and for Emmy,” their daughter.
Mark Bingham, a 6-foot-5-inch public relations executive and a former collegiate rugby player, called his mother, Alice Hoglan in Saratoga, California. He told her that he loved her. Then he described what was happening inside the plane. She said her son told her “three guys have taken over the plane and they say they have a bomb.”
These three, Burnett, Glick and Bingham — perhaps there were others took a vote (Took a vote, mind you!): do nothing or fight back.
I want to remind of our Torah portion of the day. I have to because of what I imagine I saw in Isaac’s eyes as he stared up at his father, ready to kill him. I imagine he stared defiantly. He said with his piercing eyes, “You can bind my arms and legs, but not my spirit. I imagine in my mind’s eye that cold stare of resistance. See Isaac’s eyes, his cold gaze, with a kind of stone resistance and seething defiance that those planning to resist the hijackers felt.
Ms. Burnett said that her husband’s adrenaline was going. He had every intention of solving this problem and coming “on home.” After a bit, the reality became clearer. Her husband told her, “I know we’re all going to die. There’s three of us who are going to do something about it.” Ms. Burnett said her husband knew they were on a suicide mission and did not want the plane to slam into another landmark.
Jeremy Glick told her, “We decided, we’re going to do it.” Those were his last words. “He was a man who would not let things happen,” his wife said of her high school sweetheart and husband of five years.
What happened next inside the cabin can now only be assumed. A senior U.S. intelligence official told MSNBC that mobile phone communications from Flight 93 suggest that three passengers overpowered the hijackers, but were unable to maintain control of the plane.
“We may never know how many people helped him or what they did,” Deena Burnett said. “But I know without a doubt that that plane was bound for some landmark and they saved many, many more lives than were lost on that plane.”
Mark Bingham’s relatives believe he, too, joined in the fight. Said his aunt, Kathy Hoglan, “He wasn’t the kind of guy to be pushed around. His mother added, I took “a great deal of comfort to know that my son may have been able to avert the killing of many, many innocent people.”
When my wife and I discussed this story, she said to me, “You would have done the same thing, wouldn’t you?” I said I would. But I don’t think I would have the heroism to think to do what Jeremy Glick did. For he had the foresight to give his wife a gift. Glick, whose name comes from the German word for “luck,” “mazel” as his ancestors might have called it, had foresight. Besides the rest, he gave another measure. In Lyz Glick’s words: “He was a hero for me, because told me not to be sad and to take care of our daughter; and he said whatever happened, he would be OK with any choices I make.... I think what he did gave me strength.“
Can you imagine such generosity? Mei-ayin yavo ezri ... from what Source of strength did these men act?
The second account I want to relate is not so much a story, but a short description of the kind of men and women we have protecting us.
The cruel list of those missing and presumed dead at the World Trade Center now hovers at around 5,000. That toll would have been even higher were it not for the extraordinary valor of the firefighters, police officers and emergency service workers who ran to the disaster scene to help. Some dashed into the collapsing towers to pull out people trapped in the chaos and falling debris. Many lost their lives.
Firefighters stand apart from the rest of us, simply by the fact that they are trained to run toward a blaze and not away from it. That impulse, which amounts to a special vocation, is their greatest tool in protecting their communities. The losses were staggering. Among those listed as missing or dead are 350 New York City firefighters. Missing too, and presumed dead, are about 40 New York City police officers, and at least 30 members of the Port Authority police.
They were going in while others were going out; they were going up while others were coming down. They were responding to the many whom experience told them would not make it on their own, and they made it their own mission to place themselves in mortal danger.
Mei-ayin yavo ezri ... from what strength of character did these safety personnel act?
For this last story, I cannot locate the source do not vouch for its accuracy. Still, even if the facts wouldn’t measure up in a court of law, the lesson is still valuable. In fact, it’s essential. Let me relate that story:
“My name is Usman Farman and I graduated from Bentley with a Finance degree last May. I am 21 years old, turning 22 in October; I am Pakistani, and I am Muslim. Until September 10th 2001, I used to work at the World Trade Center in building #7. I had friends and acquaintances who worked in Tower #1 right across from me. Some made it out, and some are still unaccounted for. I survived this horrible event.
“I’d like to share with you what I went through that awful day, with the hopes that we can all stay strong together; through this tragedy of yet-untold proportions. As I found out, regardless of who we are, and where we come from, we only have each other.
“Had I taken the late train, as I had thought to do, or gotten a bite to eat, as I usually do, I would have been five minutes later and walking over the crosswalk when the first plane hit. Had that happened, I would have been caught under a rain of fire and debris; I wouldn’t be here talking to you....
“I was in the lobby, and I heard the first explosion; it didn’t register. They were doing construction outside and I thought some scaffolding had fallen. I took the elevators up to my office on the 27th floor. When I walked in, the whole place was empty.
“My phone rang and I spoke with my mother and told her that I was leaving, at that moment I saw an explosion rip out of the second building. I looked down one last time and saw the square and fountain that I eat lunch in, was covered in smoldering debris. Apparently, I was one of the last to leave my building, when I was on the way up in the elevators; my co-workers from the office were in the stairwells coming down. When I evacuated, there was no panic. People were calm and helping each other; a pregnant woman was being carried down the stairwell.
“I’ll spare the more gruesome details of what I saw, those are things that no one should ever have to see, and beyond human decency to describe. My heart goes out to everyone who lost their lives that day, and those who survived with the painful reminders of what once was. Acquaintances of mine who made it out of the towers, only got out because 1000 people formed a human chain to find their way out of the smoke....
“The security people told us to go north and not to look back. Five city blocks later I stopped and turned around to watch. With a thousand people staring, we saw in shock as the first tower collapsed. No one could believe it was happening, it is still all too surreal to imagine. The next thing I remember is that a dark cloud of glass and debris about fifty stories high came tumbling towards us. I turned around and ran as fast as possible. I that I fell down trying to get away. What happened next is why I came here to give this speech.
“I was on my back, facing this massive cloud that was approaching, it must have been 600 feet off, everything was already dark. I normally wear a pendant around my neck, inscribed with an Arabic prayer for safety; similar to the cross. A Hasidic Jewish man came up to me and held the pendant in his hand, and looked at it. He read the Arabic out loud for a second. What he said next, I will never forget. With a deep Brooklyn accent he said, ‘Brother, if you don’t mind, there is a cloud of glass coming at us, grab my hand, lets get the hell out of here.’ He helped me stand up, and we ran for what seemed like forever without looking back. He was the last person I would ever have thought, who would help me. If it weren’t for him, I probably would have been engulfed in shattered glass and debris.
“As the world continues to reel from this tragedy, people in the streets are lashing out. Not far from my home, a Pakistani woman was run over on purpose as she was crossing the parking lot to put groceries in her car. Her only fault? That she had her head covered and was wearing the traditional clothing of my homeland. I am afraid for my family’s well-being within our community. My older sister is too scared to take the subway into work now. My eight-year old sister’s school is under lockdown and armed watch by police.
“Violence only begets violence, and by lashing out at each other in fear and hatred, we will become no better than those who committed this atrocity. If it weren’t for that man who helped me get up, I would most likely be in the hospital right now, if not dead. Help came from the least expected place, and goes only to show, that we are all in this together, regardless of race, religion, or ethnicity. Those are principles that this country was founded on.
“Take a moment to look at the people sitting around you. Friends or strangers, in a time of crisis, you would want the nearest person to help you if you needed it. My help came from a man who I would never have thought would normally even speak to me. (adapted)
“My name is Usman Farman and I graduated from Bentley with a Finance degree last May. I am 21 years old, turning 22 in October; I am Pakistani, and I am Muslim, and I too have been victimized by this awful tragedy. The next time you feel angry about this, and perhaps want to retaliate in your own way, please remember these words: ‘Brother, if you don’t mind, there is a cloud of glass coming at us, grab my hand, lets get (the hell) out of here.’”
So, what do you think? A true message. When there is another human being in trouble, we need to reach out, to do our best to help. There is so much in this world that threatens to tear us apart, but in times of crisis, we all need to pull together. Scapegoating is an easy solution. Indeed for some it inspired the “Final Solution,” and I can give you six million reasons why we shouldn’t do that.
But let me tell you that if in the midst of last week’s disaster, a Hassidic Jew could reach out to a Pakastani Muslim wearing a pendant with an Arabic inscription, and if that same Pakistani Muslim could take the hand of a Hassidic Jew, then we can certainly reach out towards one another.
Mei-ayin yavo ezri ... from what Spirit of G-d did these two act?
Some see it differently. In blasting the US federal courts for “throwing G-d out of the public square,” Jerry Falwell added: “I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle — the ACLU, People for the American Way — all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say, ‘You helped this happen.’”
First of all, those who inspired the demolition of Planned Parenthood Clinics occupy hell’s antechamber, right next to the Osama Bin Ladens of the world.
And second, wouldn’t The Rev. Falwell be surprised to hear that one of the three men to have rushed the cabin to prevent United Flight 93 from hitting a populated building when it crashed in rural Pennsylvania, Mark Bingham, was a gay male.
We are now a nation in mourning, stunned, in shock. But we have not lost our sense of humanity, nor our compassion and love for fellow human beings. We must not paint people with such broad brushstrokes that we confuse those who are good with those who are evil.
Now, my guess is that Usman Farman and this Hasidic Jew have very little in common. They probably have very different interests, and I know that they don’t eat at the same restaurants. Yet when it came to matters of life and death they had to put their differences aside and bring themselves from darkness to light.
The trials of Mr. Farman and the anonymous Hassid put our little squabbles into meaningful perspective. If Usman Farman could take the hand of a Hassidic Jew, and if this Jew could lend Mr. Farman a hand, and they were WORLDS apart in almost everything they did prior to 9-11, don’t you think that you could extend your hand to someone with whom things have not been quite right. If two strangers from vastly different backgrounds can offer and accept a hand, don’ t you think that we can offer apologies and be gracious enough to accept them from others with whom we have so much more in common: our friends, our neighbors, our co-workers, or our loved ones?
No warning can be given in our tradition with out a message of uplift. There is a story about a king who possessed a beautiful ruby that was perfect in very way. One day he was admiring it and in a moment of carelessness scratched the surface of the precious jewel in a way that defied smoothing it over and still maintaining its beauty.
He called his craftsmen together and asked if they could restore the perfection that was once there. And all the king’s horse and the king’s men couldn’t put the gem together again. And then one craftsman came forward and looked at the scratch and instead of trying to eliminate it, he gathered it into the perspective as a whole and proceeded to use the scratch as the basis for a stem upon which he carved a lovely rose into the gem. Its beauty was not only restored but it also became more valuable. People from all around would travel merely to see the restored glory of this perfect gem.
On Tuesday, wickedness was evident, but humaneness will prevail. Since Tuesday, we have witnessed a remarkable outpouring of human kindness, as Americans instinctively insist that evil’s victory would be limited, and that we would not permit inhumanity to prevail. We believe, deeply and stubbornly, that goodness and kindness are more powerful than cruelty. Let us as Americans and as Jews, in our interpersonal dealings, and especially in dealing with those rendered particularly vulnerable by these events, be fully responsive to G-d’s image in us — to act with kindness and with courtesy, to seek to express, as Lincoln put it, “the better angels of our nature.”
There is no better time than now to come together, during these Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, our Ten Days of Repentance, the days that are set aside for this very purpose. Hashivenu Adonai Elecha Venashuva Chadesh Yameinu K’kedem. Return us unto You, O God, and we shall return; renew our days as of old.
I wish you all a Shanah Tovah U’Metukah, a Happy and a Sweet New Year.