This year, the 25th anniversary of 9/11 falls on Rosh Hashanah

A meditation on the Rosh Hashanah prayer, “Who Will Live and Who Will Die” (Unetaneh Tokef).

Uv’shofar gadol yitaka, v’kol d’mama dakah yishama.

A great shofar is sounded, and a still, small voice is heard.

The scream—then the silence before the sirens.

K’vakoras ro’eh edro, ma’avir tzono tachat shivto.

As a shepherd inspects his flock, making his sheep pass beneath his staff.

Each of the slain; a face not a number.

B’Rosh Hashanah yikateivun, u’v’Yom Tzom Kippur yechateimun.

On Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed.

Twenty-five years written, sealed, never forgotten … always present.

Kamah ya’avorun v’chamah yibarei’un.

How many will pass from the world, how many will be born into it.

Widows carrying children who would never know their fathers.

Mi yichyeh u’mi yamut.

Who will live and who will die.

Seconds. A missed train, a caught train. The whole difference.

Mi v’kitzo u’mi lo v’kitzo.

Who at their appointed end, who before their time.

Young and old, all before their time.

Mi b’mayim u’mi b’eish.

Who by water and who by fire.

Flames bursting from the towers—water falling now, where they once stood.

Mi b’cherev u’mi b’chaya.

Who by the sword and who by beast.

Heroic passengers and crew rose against the sword of terrorist beasts.

Mi b’ra’av u’mi b’tzama.

Who by hunger and who by thirst.

Buried in rubble for hours—thirsting, hungering, for life.

Mi b’ra’ash u’mi b’magefah.

Who by earthquake and who by plague.

The Towers—an earthquake of steel and ash, the world seemingly ended.

Mi b’chanika u’mi bis’kila.

Who by strangling and who by stoning.

Down the stairwells, gasping for breath, as towers fell like stones from the sky.

Mi yanuach u’mi yanu’a.

Who will rest and who will wander.

The dead—some found and at rest; others wandering, never found.

Mi yishaket u’mi yitareif.

Who will have serenity and who will be confused.

PTSD—seeking to move on, never fully.

Mi yishaleiv u’mi yityaser.

Who will be tranquil and who will be tormented.

One found peace on the other side of it; another never left that day.

Mi yei’ani u’mi ya’ashir.

Who will be impoverished and who will grow wealthy.

Loss measured in more than money.

Mi yishafel u’mi yarum.

Who will be brought low and who will be raised up.

Can victimhood become vision?

U’teshuvah u’tefilah u’tzedakah ma’avirin et ro’a hagezeirah.

But repentance, prayer and charity annul the severity of the decree.

Turning fate into destiny.

Adam yesodo m’afar ve’sofo le’afar

Man’s origin is from dust, and his end is to dust.

The earth of Ground Zero is not void, not soulless—it is hallowed ground, holding holy souls forever.

U’ke’anan kallah, u’chachalom ya’uf

Like a cloud that fades away, and like a dream that flies off.

Firefighters and police: They did not fall; they climbed to the clouds, ascending higher and higher.

Ve’haya ba’yom ha’hu, yitaka b’shofar gadol

And it shall come to pass on that day that a great shofar shall be sounded.

May the shofar of Unetaneh Tokef transform into Isaiah’s great shofar, sounding: Redemption is here. With hearts, souls and might—and God’s help—for America, for Israel and the world: Lu yehi. “So may it be.”

Originally published at: jns.org