Vulnerabililty and Forgiveness: Two Themes for the High Holidays, 2002

I was driving to work when the first plane hit the first tower. A shock-wave went through my body and I drove faster, wanting to be with others, wanting to hear that it wasn't true. A plane flying down the Hudson, crashing into the famous tower was improbable. But it was real. And I had to, and have to, deal with my own renewed sense of vulnerability, both as an American and as a Jew.

Since that time, the world has become more precarious. And my insecurity has become more intense, more palpable. After September 11, friends who live near the World Trade Center had to leave their New York apartments for awhile. Other friends who live in Greenwich Village told me that their apartments were filled with dust and horrible odors. Friends who live in downtown Manhattan said they had to show driver's licenses to police to get through barriers just to go home. I live 125 miles north of Ground Zero, but it is ever present in my thoughts, fears, and life.

Now, in August, I turn on the television and see those horrific images replayed. I hear interviews with survivors, rescuers and orphans. A local Berkshire camp brought children orphaned by the attack to a free week in the country. Healing begins even while a sense of unreality, a sense of fear, pervades.

Frightening violence occurs on every continent. Terrorism is in the news. Arab terrorists are prominently accused, and my fear of Arab terrorism has its roots in September 11 and the attacks on the World Trade Center, the crashes at the Pentagon and in a Pennsylvania field.

Religion is blamed as a, or the, source of conflict. Protestants and Catholics fight in Ireland, Hindus and Muslims fight in India and Pakistan, Israeli Jews are at war with Palestinian Muslims. But religion is not the source of our world's struggles. It is the brazen manipulation of the gullible by the cynical in the name of religion that causes our world's suffering and pain. After all, as much murder was committed in the name of no-religion in Russia and Cambodia.

I am angry with those who use religion to foster political aims, who use religion as a divisive tool. I am angry with the Arab and Moslem moderates who ask for understanding and acceptance without firmly denouncing Arab terrorism. Angry with those who refuse conciliation and foment more violence anywhere peace appears to be breaking out. And it's my goal to turn that anger to good use, to reach out in love to others who are hurting and to bring more love into the world.

We are approaching the Jewish High Holy Days as I write these words. We are in the month of Elul and preparing ourselves for the new year with prayers for forgiveness. Selichot, a service asking for forgiveness, calls each of us to begin a process of self reflection. I reread my journal entries as a bridge between summer and the Days of Awe. If possible, I ask those with whom I've had uncomfortable relationships for their forgiveness. And I am mindful of what is known as "The Lord's Prayer," which says: "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."

And that's what I can do. I can forgive those who have hurt me. I cannot forgive the terrorists who hijacked planes on September 11. They, and those who instigated their actions, cannot be forgiven by me. Human forgiveness for a murderer is impossible, since only the murdered can really forgive the murderer. (I suppose it's possible for a relative or close friend to forgive a murderer for the pain they feel, but not for the act--never for the act). Forgiveness on that level is reserved to God.

But even without being able to forgive those who trespass against others, we are able to heal ourselves and work to heal our planet. A lovely children's book was written in response to the events of September 11 by my friend, Andrea Patel. It's called on that day--a book of hope for children. In it, Andrea writes: "When bad things happen, only a small piece of the world breaks, not the whole world. Goodness is in the world, and it's stronger than badness." [The book is just being published this month by Tricycle Press and is available on Amazon.com or in your local bookstore.] This is a message that we all need to hear, and one that resonates throughout my family, Christians and Jews, alike.

And that's the focus that we need to carry forward: The evil that is in the world is less powerful than the goodness. Forgiveness of evil action, such as those promulgated by the September 11 terrorists, is ours to give only insofar as we ourselves are injured.

But we need personal healing. We need to be able to go on and live in a world that is daily being changed by abominable acts of terror. As an American and as a Jew, I look for ways to transform hatred into love. I think that we can help heal ourselves and the world by creating opportunities to do good things for others every chance we get. Every chance we get.

Paula Lee Hellman has been active in Jewish education for almost fifteen years, working with adults, senior adults and children. She and her Jewish husband have a blended family, which includes children and step-children, grandchildren and a step-grandchild from their previous interfaith marriages.