Tisha b’Av (the ninth of Av) is the name that marks the saddest date on the Jewish calendar, recalling the destruction of the Holy Temples. Similarly, the most deadly attack ever on American soil — bringing about the destruction of the World Trade Center, part of the Pentagon, and a more trusting way of life — is commemorated simply by the date on which it occurred: 9/11.
Sept. 11, 2001 was a Tuesday, deadline day for The Jewish Week.
As the horrific events began to unfold that morning, I found myself consumed, at times, by the unfolding coverage on television, then forcing myself away from it, trying to focus on getting the issue out on time. In revising the paper’s contents and helping to assign fresh staff coverage, I was very much aware that we were experiencing a moment when one could feel our nation’s history veering off into an unknown, dangerous path. One from which we haven’t really recovered, and perhaps never will.
A slain teenager, a grieving father and the press.
Ari L. Goldman
Special To The Jewish Week
We all recognize victims of terror. We know about them — and their bereaved families — from news reports and public memorial services. We are about to see a new wave of such reports and memorials as we approach the 10th anniversary of 9/11.
But what we don’t always recognize are how the victims of terror are often “re-victimized” by society, by politicians, by charities and by the press.
Art installation — a space for meditation — reflects on the memory of 9/11 and the possibility of healing.
As the president of Lincoln Center, Reynold Levy is a busy man. But when an old friend, the artist Tobi Kahn, forced a small, white wooded block into his hands and urged him to use it to reflect on 9/11, he complied. And he was glad he did.
To my surprise and dismay, after the first anniversary of Sept. 11, 2001, by and large the organized Jewish community’s reaction has been muted.
To be fair, there have been exceptions. On the fifth anniversary, The Jewish Week published a section on the subject, including my article “The Holiest Place on Earth,” about my daughters and me praying at Ground Zero on Yom Kippur. Revealingly however, when the article was excerpted, or quoted in other parts of the country, it was by either a secular or, more commonly, a Christian paper.
New York magazine's Sept. 11 issue has arrived, and it's a real treat. The whole issue has been turned into an encyclopedia of Sept. 11-related entries, including everything from "freedom fries" to "Abbottabad," and many of them penned by wonderful writers. Mark Lilla's in there, as is Eliza Griswold. I haven't read them all, but one caught my eye in particular: Jim Holt's entry for "Humor."
Agency heads, rabbis, victims’ families, students reflect on event and its aftermath.
For the first five years after 9/11, Naamah Paley thought often about the burning towers, how the ground shook as the first tower fell and her horror as she watched from just five blocks away as the second tower collapsed.
“As it was coming down, I have the memory of a police officer saying, ‘Run, run as fast as you can; run north,’” said Paley, who was then a 15-year-old junior at Stuyvesant High School. “I had nightmares for years.”
A Jewish author, a Muslim protagonist and questions of identity in the Ground Zero-centered ‘The Submission.’
There is a scene in “The Submission,” Amy Waldman’s new and much-discussed post-9/11 novel, where the Muslim-American architect who wins a Sept. 11 memorial competition confronts the competition’s chair, Paul Rubin, a Jewish tycoon not unlike Michael Bloomberg.