I know it's my assignment to say something profound today. I know we are all trying to make sense of that which cuts to the core of the American soul. But in this moment of airless shock when hot tears sting disbelieving eyes, the only thing I can find to say, the only words that seem to fit must be addressed to the unknown author of this suffering.
You monster. You beast. You unspeakable mamzer.
What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's attack on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we would learn?
Whatever it was, please know that you failed.
Did you want us to respect your cause? You just damned your cause.
Did you want us to hate Israel? We love Israel even more.
Did you think we would have sympathy for your revolution?
We never knew people could be that violent.
You thought you could hide behind anonymity. You banked that we would never find the country that harbored you. You're wrong. We found not one but many--an Islamic Revolution in so many Arabic lands. And now one by one they will have to spit out their vomit.
Did you want to make us fear? You just steeled our resolve. "The L-rd is my light and my salvation, only G-d do I fear."
Did you want to tear us apart? You just brought us together.
Did you think that you killed innocent Americans only? You murdered 80 nations who occupied the steel you bent.
Did you think only Americans adored the twin towers? The Manhattan skyline shimmered in the imaginations of all nations, and people everywhere cherished the ambition of landing on our legendary shore.
You think you massacred just the rich, the lazy, the spoiled American?
You killed everyone equally and without remorse: secretaries, pizza clerks, bankers, shoeshine parlor operators, subway clerks, shoe salesman, sushi chefs, delivery boys, computer geniuses, stock traders, and book salesmen.
This is beyond the point of anger. This is beyond politics. It's beyond culture. It's beyond even religion itself. It's one common cry to put you out of business.
Let me tell you about my people.
We are a vast and quarrelsome family, a family rent by racial, social, political and class division, but a family nonetheless. We're frivolous, yes, capable of expending tremendous emotional energy on cultural minutiae--a singer's revealing dress, a ball team's misfortune, a cartoon mouse. We're wealthy, too, spoiled by the ready availability of trinkets and material goods, and maybe because of that, we walk through life with a certain sense of blithe entitlement. We are fundamentally decent, though--peace-loving and compassionate. We struggle to know the right thing and to do it. And we are the overwhelming majority of us, people of faith believers in a just and loving G-d.
Some people--you perhaps--think that any or all of this makes us weak. We are not weak. Indeed, we are strong in ways that cannot be measured by arsenals. We are courteous, gracious, patient and kind to each other, but unrepentant and vindictive to your kind.
You dared hide in our midst, taking advantage of our hospitality, earning our dollars to support your cause. But now, there is no rock you can hide under. Home of the free and home of the brave, no place for a home of cowards.
Yes, our teachings say to forgive. But I wouldn't count on that. Our teachings say to be cautious, not to jump to conclusions, to collect the evidence and know for certain who is this enemy.
Not this time. You thought you came only after us. But your really threatened the world. We are coming to get you!
You are counting, I know, on having us forget. But our memories are forever. They haunt us. We can't sleep. There are too many reminders. Too many missing. Too many dead.
Every time we look at our flag we remember. Every time we look at a picture of our fallen sons and daughters, our fathers and mothers, our brides and our brothers, we remember.
Those faces on the posters you see plastered all over the city are staring at you. They are piercing your evil and fixed on you until they reach their target. Our city is now a shrine to their memory. And we are a people that love to worship at our shrines. No way we or they can forget.
Then there are the stories told by the survivors, the dying, the brave. We are writing down every one of them. I know you don't care. But we will be listening to them over and over again. We can't forget. We won't forget.
Before you, we thought terrorists were people who lived in exotic lands and fought for strange causes. So who cared? Now we know better. They live in our home. So no way we can forget.
You think like in the movies there is only one hero who comes to save us. But you have unleashed thousands, 10s of thousands of brave souls who are ready to look you in the eye and bring you down.
Our President, walking the streets of a ruined city where last fall he couldn't get a vote, now sits comfortable in his office atop the small mountain of debris you created, a bullhorn in hand. Look how he is buoyed by firefighters, police officers, EMTs, doctors, nurses, and all the others who rushed into darkness to try to save strangers. That's a nobility that you will never know.
And you saw how hundreds and thousands of us gathered in our places of worship. You saw how the Red Cross went into action. And you witnessed how much money we collected to defeat you. $2,000, this last Saturday night alone, just in our Synagogue. That's not bubkas, [peanuts] as we say in our language. Those are b'raches [blessings] that we generate to build our spirit.
Yes, we're in pain now. We are in mourning and we are in shock. We're still grappling with the unreality of the awful thing you did, still working to make ourselves understand that this isn't a special effect from some Hollywood blockbuster, isn't the plot development from a Tom Clancy novel. Your attacks are likely to go down as the worst acts of terrorism in the history of the United States, and probably, the history of the world. The blood we bleed is real. And you have bloodied us as we have never been bloodied before.
Well, if you have seen any of our movies, you know the ending. We're on the way.
There's a gulf of difference between making us bloody and making us fall. You're not the first to attack us by surprise. Then we lost 2,300. You've doubled that with your barbarity. And how did we respond to them? I'll remind you. When roused, we are righteous in our outrage, terrible in our force. When provoked by this level of destruction, we will bear any suffering, pay any cost, to go any length, in the pursuit of justice. You think you are the only people capable of producing a devastating cloud?
Is that what you want in return?
I tell you this without fear of contradiction. I know my people as you, I think, do not. What I know reassures me. Just look at the thousands who run to help, to support, to give. Strangers become family. Tears move from one eye to the next. They drop everything to rebuild what you have destroyed.
But I also tremble with dread of the future and what we are about to unleash on you and the lifestyle you have bequeathed us.
In the days to come, there will be recrimination and accusation, fingers pointing to determine whose failure allowed this to happen and what can be done to prevent it from happening again. There will be heightened security, misguided talk of revoking basic freedoms. We'll go forward from this moment sobered, chastened, sad. But determined, too unimaginably determined.
Didn't you realize we would respond to you?
You might have been fooled. The steel in us is not always readily apparent as it is on our buildings. That aspect of our character is seldom understood by people who don't know us well. Maybe we didn't speak loud enough the other times you sent your message.
But on this day, the family's bickering has been put on hold. As Americans we will weep, as Americans we will mourn, and as Americans, we will rise in defense of all that we cherish. And that does not include you.
So I ask again: What was it you hoped to teach us? It occurs to me that maybe you just wanted us to know the depths of your hatred toward Israel and America. If that's the case, consider the message received. And take this message in exchange;
You don't know my people. You don't know what we're capable of. You don't know what you just started.
But you're about to learn. You're about to see the power of a Shofar [ram's horn] rally us to service. That first loud blast is our wake up call. Then there is the sobbing and wailing sounds which you brought out in us. But in the end there is that last blast of confidence that tells you that we are coming to knock down your protective walls. We once fought that battle at Jericho, and the walls then came tumbling down.
Just watch how your evil will crumble, how your weapons will jam, how your stomach will burst from bitter waters.
You may smite a few of us, but Mr. Goliath, our David is coming. And we're not bringing sling shots.
You are about to learn what we are made of. And you will come to regret the day you were born. For you see, we really believe that right makes might.
And you ain't seen nothing yet.
"Not by might nor by power, saith the L-rd. But with my spirit shall you know that I am G-d." Well, Mr. terrorist, you are about to see the spirit of the whole world unite against you. And then I will have the privilege to say.
"Good riddens, y'mach shemecha, may your name be blotted out of the annals of history, and you can join the ranks of your other anti-Semitic buddy Hitler and burn in hell. I can tell you on good authority that your fate has been sealed this year for a lousy year.
You don't know what you've started. But you are about to find out.
On Rosh Hashana, we create this world all over again, and it won't include you or the likes of you. No greeting for you buddy. Just a promise from me to turn you into rubble. And then our American soul will be whole again.
Twin towers; twin flowers. From ground zero they will grow! Up, up and away, an America of hope you'll never know.