This document summarizes a rabbi's Yom Kippur sermon about how 9/11 impacted America's sense of national identity and exceptionalism. The rabbi argues that America, like ancient India, suppresses feelings of loss and decline from its national consciousness. While 9/11 challenged America's self-image as invulnerable and globally dominant, the Jewish community can help the nation process its collective grief through community support during difficult times.

1. 9/11 and the experience of loss
Dave Shafer
At the 10 year anniversary of the 9/11 attack on America it is fitting that we
should reflect tonight, on Yom Kippur, on what that has meant to the nation and to
us personally. On several different levels the 9/11 experience has been one of
profound loss – of many lives in the Twin Towers, of the unthinkable collapse of
these two enormous modern buildings, of our sense of invulnerability as a nation,
and of a sense of direction for the country. How has this experience of loss
affected us personally, over the last decade, and what are our thoughts tonight
about this?
It is instructive to consider how different cultures have dealt with feelings of
loss. There is a very insightful writer, Jeffrey Masson, who has a PhD in
Sanskrit, the language of ancient India, and who also went on to become a
practicing Freudian psychoanalyst. He has applied his psychological insights and
Sanskrit background to the culture of ancient India. Masson has the very
interesting idea that every culture has certain issues that it finds totally
unacceptable to deal with, or to even acknowledge, and that it completely
suppresses any mention of these issues.
With ancient India he says that that forbidden issue is the feeling of loss. It is
hard to believe, but there are no words or concepts in the Sanskrit language for
even expressing the idea of loss. You might think that this was some peculiarity
of Eastern cultures, but that was not the case. Massongives the example of a

2. specific event – the Council of Lhasa, held in Tibet in 900 A.D. which brought
together 3 religious delegations from India, China, and Tibet. Letters sent home
by these three groups, in the Sanskrit, Tibetan, and Chinese languages, have
survived and can be compared now, 1100 years later. The Chinese delegation
wrote home to their families about how much they missed their wives and children.
They wrote poems on the long trip expressing their loneliness and homesickness.
The Indian delegation, by contrast, wrote only of objective details of their trip and
of the debates at the conference.
There was no mention of human emotions. Masson wrote, and I quote, “The
Indians, unlike the Chinese, could not allow themselves any expression of these
inner feelings…… The sadness of being removed from one’s loved ones, far
away from one’s family, in a strange environment in a distant land, could not be
publicly acknowledged no matter how poignantly felt. A deep and natural human
need to express such feelings would have to be, by the dictates of Indian culture,
rigorously suppressed. This culture sought to totally banish such feelings from
consciousness.”
Jeffrey Masson said that “I do not know how one could say “I miss my child” in
the Sanskrit language”. Yet he goes on to say that surely all people everywhere
must share certain emotional experiences, even if their culture does not provide
the words or means to express some of them. You may be thinking, at this point,
“well, this is all very interesting but what does this have to do with us?” I’m glad
you asked. Is it possible that we here today in America are a culture, like ancient
India, that also has certain issues that are taboo, that are banished from expression,

3. and which are relevant to the experience of 9/11 and also to Yom Kippur?
There are certainly some aspects of life in America that are surrounded by
euphemisms and awkward attempts to sweep them under the rug. Nothing as
extreme as the example of ancient India but still part of that spectrum. For
example, nobodydies anymore, they pass away or pass on or some similar phrase,
and we tend to isolate the very elderly in nursing homes and remove, as much as
possible from our awareness, them and the inevitable deterioration of minds and
bodies that will eventually be the lot of us all. The medicalization of illness and
dying in the closing decades of the nineteenth century not only rendered death an
increasingly taboo subject; it also contributed to the disappearance of the elaborate
Victorian mourning customs.
But in addition to the death of individuals there is one aspectof America that
was specifically and profoundly affected by the 9/11 event. There is a long
standing myth about America, which is our foundation myth as a country. It goes
like this: America is unique in the world in many ways. We had a doctrine of
Manifest Destiny, that God intended for us to expand from the original 13 colonies
to fill the continent, from sea to shining sea, even if there were inconvenient Native
Americans in the way. That was our divine destiny as a nation. We are the land of
boundless opportunity, of expansive thinking, we have the American Dream for a
style of life, such as to own a home and have its value ever increase, we are # 1 in
the world and are the biggest economic and military power. All of our kids are
above average. We are the envy of the world. Any reversals are a temporary

4. aberration that will certainly be fixed, in time. This is a country where many
people think that short-selling on Wall Street is fundamentally un-American. As a
country we have many self-image ideas that are quite lacking in the European
countries. We are a country without limits.
Texas, which still very much likes to think of itself as part of the old Wild West,
is an extreme case of this image of America, with almost no limits. An
advertisement by a music store in a Texas newspaper once offered, with the
purchase of a piano, a free shotgun! Pianos and shotguns, a very natural pair in
Texas.
This idea of an America that cannot be held back, of unimpeded growth, of
a country where the future is ours for the taking, of American Exceptionalism,
took a severe blow with the 9/11 attack. It was the start of a long series of
reversals that include the internet dot.combubblebursting, our current financial
crisis, a continuing download spiraling of house prices, finding that our children
rank 25th or so in math and science compared to other countries, that our health
care, like infant mortality rates, is not the best in the world, and that we are not
invulnerable to terrorists attacks right here at home on our very own soil.
This can all be summed up with an idea that has been basically unthinkable
until recently – that America is in decline, has limits, and might not ever come
back from that. We seem to be militarily impotent in Afghanistan, China may
surpass us as the #1 world economic power in the foreseeable future, we no longer
feel safe here at home and that might never return, and we feel a real sense of loss
about the way the world seems to have changed. It is very hard to imagine how

5. America could ever acceptan image of ourselves as #2 in the world. It is just an
intolerable change to our self-image.
I think that America is really struggling now to adjust to all of the blows to our
self-image that started with the 9/11 attack. America thinks of itself as a winner
and losing is just not part of the national psyche. I am not suggesting that we are,
in fact, on an irreversable path of decline, as a nation. Simply that national loss is
our culture’s issue that, like that of personal loss in ancient India, cannot be
allowed to enter our national consciousness. Thatis our culture’s unthinkable idea.
But since 9/11 we have been faced with this sense of national loss, and it can’t be
suppressed that easily any more.
People tend to grasp tightly those things that they hold dear, like our national
self-image, and are very reluctant to lose them. The playwright Eugene O’Neil
wrote some very long plays. Once, when one was about to be staged, the producer
insisted that it was simply too long and would have to be cut some. O’Neil
regarded every single sentence, word, and syllable in his plays as sacred and
refused to cooperate. They argued back and forth. Finally, one night the producer
got an excited phone call from O’Neil, who triumphantly announced that he had
managed to cut the play’s running time by 20 minutes. “How??” asked the
amazed producer. O”Neil replied - “remove the 2nd intermission”.
Like many serious subjects, the idea of loss has long been a subject in Jewish
humor. There is a story about the Old Country, where a merchant with shady
business practices is being watched by a friend as he drives a very hard bargain

6. with another merchant to purchase some cloth. Afterwards the friend asks him
“Why were you haggling so unmercifully with him? What difference does it make
– you know that oncehe sends you the cloth you are never going to pay him. The
merchant replied “Yes, I know that, but he seemed like a nice guy and by driving
his price down I was trying to reduce his losses”
Accepting losses is a painful part of the maturation process. America is like an
immature adolescent. As individuals we may be mature but as a country we still
have the naïve optimism of youth. Our disillusionment today with our
government and other institutions is similar to what people felt after World War I.
Back then Sigmund Freud argued that pre-war ideals, particularly the notion of the
civilized, peaceful, and rational individual, were (quote) “based on an illusion to
which we had given way. In reality our fellow-citizens have not sunk so low as we
feared, because they had never risen so high as we believed” Freud concluded
that the violence sweeping through Europe was not an anomaly of the war, but an
undeniable fact of human existence, a fact that civilization tries but largely fails to
restrain. Todaywe are feeling a loss of confidence in our government, Wall
Street, and other institutions that is partly because we had some naïve illusions
that have now been exposed.
As a nation we are in a sort of collective mourning over this loss. Sigmund
Freud struggled his whole career with trying to understand the mourning process.
He once said, in speaking of his daughter’s death nine years earlier: “Although we

7. know that after such a loss the acute state of mourning will subside, we also know
we shall remain inconsolable and will never find a substitute. No matter what may
fill the gap, even if it be filled completely, it nevertheless remains something else.
And actually, this is how it should be. It is the only way of perpetuating that love
which we do not want to relinquish.” Later tonight we will remember our own
loved ones in our memorial service.
The Jewish people, of course, is no stranger to dealing with loss, both personally
and as a group. The Spanish Inquisition, Russian pogroms, and the Holocaust
mark a chronology of awful violence against the Jews. One responseto loss is to
examine one’s self, to see if this is somehow a punishment from God for falling
away from the righteous path that you are supposed to be on. Certainly that was
the response of the ancient biblical prophets. Forour group here this is not an
appropriate way to think about loss. On Yom Kippur we try to see very clearly,
without illusions, what our personal reality is, and of acknowledging losses and
seeing them as a painful but inevitable part of maturation. We will all of us die
some day, the ultimate loss, and there cannot be a mature life that does not include
various kinds of losses leading up to that.
There was a study done some years ago to see how happiness in elderly women
in nursing homes was related to their religious affiliation. The findings were as
follows. Elderly Protestant women were the happiest, becausethey were mostly
out of touch with their feelings and did not see clearly the situation that they were

8. in. They were not very reality based or emotional. Elderly Catholic women were
less happy. They were more in touch with their feelings and saw things pretty
clearly, but they found a lot of solace in their Caltholic religion. The most
unhappy group were the elderly Jewish women. They knew exactly how they felt,
they saw clearly the world around them, and they had no expectations of an
afterlife. They kvetched a lot. They were very aware of the end path that they
were on and mourned the losses that go with infirmity and eventual death.
This does not sound like much for us to look forward to, but we are not
without resources in this life. The Jewish people have always been very
resourceful, often by necessity. Once a poorJew in the shtetl said to his friend, “If
I were Rothschild, I’d be richer than Rothschild” “How is it possible?” asked the
friend. He replied “I’d do a little teaching on the side”. That kind of
resourcefulness can be useful when we are faced with challenges like the 9/11
event. In a time of great uncertainty in the world and of very daunting fiscal
challenges here at home, it is useful to reflect on some of the personal resources we
have for dealing with a sense of loss, of limited opportunities, of health problems,
of advancing age. There is a wonderful Hassidic tale by RabbiNachman, called
“The treasure under the bridge”
“There was oncea poorJew who lived in the city of Prague. One night he dreamt
that he should journey to Vienna. There, at the base of a bridge leading to the
King's palace, he would find a buried treasure. Night after night the dream
recurred until, leaving his family behind, he traveled to Vienna to claim his

9. fortune. The bridge, however, was heavily guarded. The watchful eyes of the
King's soldiers afforded little opportunity to retrieve the treasure. Every day the
poorJew spent hours pacing back and forth across the bridge waiting for his
chance.
After two weeks time one of the guards grabbed him by the lapels of his coat
and demanded gruffly, "Jew! What are you plotting? Why do you keep returning to
this place day after, day?" Frustrated and anxious, he blurted out the story of his
dream. When he finished, the soldier broke into loud laughter. The poor
Jew looked on in astonishment. The King's guard stopped laughing long enough to
say, "What a foolish Jew you are , believing in dreams. Why, if I let my life be
guided by visions, I would be well on my way right now to the city of Prague. For
just last night I dreamt that a poorJew in that city has, buried in his own cellar, a
treasure which awaits discovery."
The poorJew returned home. He dug in his cellar and found the fortune. Upon
reflection he thought, the treasure was always in my possession. Yet, I had to travel
to Vienna to know of its existence.
We here tonight also have much treasure that we may not fully appreciate, that
has long been in our possession. It is our family, our friends, and specifically this
congregation. At a time of loss we can depend on each other. Delaware Indians
used to have a name for themselves, in their language. It was Lenni Lenape.
Lenni Lenape means “Real People”, as opposedto everyone else. Us versus
Them. Every community is like that to some degree. Historically the Jewish

10. people have been an extraordinarily close knit community, both locally and world
wide. In the past, two international languages, Yiddish and Ladino, have enabled
Jews all over the world to connect with each other, wherever they might find
themselves.
Irving Howe tells the story from long ago of a vaudeville agent who was
interviewing the leader of a Hawaiian band that he wanted to book. The booking
agent said “I very much wished to present this foreign novelty but the price was
too high. The band leader, in very hesitant broken English, tried to impress me
with the enormous investment he had in himself and the other men in this band
brought so far from their Hawaian homeland. I tooka long chance and threw him
a question. “Kennst redin Yiddish?” “Geviss!” he answered just as quickly and in
a natural New Yorker’s tone, without a trace of a Hawaiin accent. We quickly
came to terms and I complemented him on his ability to impersonate.” These days
it is not Yiddish but other cultural ties that glue together the world wide Jewish
community. I, who was born a gentile, am very happy to be part of that
community.
46 years ago I married Ellie and was welcomed into her Jewish family. 36 years
ago we joined this congregation and have both been very active in it ever since.
You are our community and Ellie and I have bothgiven much and received much
in return. It has been a very welcoming group and also one that looks after its
members. During Hurricane Ilene the internet was buzzing with those

11. congregants who were not that affected by the storm, who were offering
their homes to the rest of us for showers or the use of other of their facilities.
When members are sick, we supporteach other. We make shiva calls and go to
memorial services when congregant’s relatives die. In a time of individual losses
we can count on each other for help, concern, and sympathy. Forbroader issues
like 9/11, which affect the whole nation, we come together for group discussions -
such as the regular Sunday morning Adult Education programs and also special
events like our recent Rosh Hashanah day Town Meeting. We may not be able to
do much about all the reversals that America has had since the 9/11 event, but at
least we have a very supportive group here to share our concerns and feelings.
A big challenge for our group is how to expand the benefits of this close CHJ
community outwards. How can we also act as citizens of the world and try to
make the world a better place. To perform deeds of T’zedakah. Our Social
Action committee inspires us throughout the year with many ideas and activities
that help us project out towards the larger community and even the world, as in our
books for Zimbabwe activities. But it is a real struggle to move outside of our
personal comfort zone and try to do something that will help repair the world.
We can’t yet know what the long term future will be of America. Whether
America is only temporarily in decline and if we will rise again, or not, to be a
beacon to the nations. And we also can’t know what the long term future will be
for the Jewish people. But I am reminded of a science fiction movie I saw many

12. years ago. In it some ordinary kind of guy from the present is somehow plucked
up from the earth and is transported across a huge jump in time and space. He
awakes in some small empty room in a spaceship, far in the distant future,
completely puzzled as to where and when he is. After a long while a door
materializes in the wall and a silent robot glides in holding a small tray with food
and drink on it. The guy tentatively nibbles at the strange food and then reaches
for the drink. As he raises the cup to his lips the robot speaks for the first time. It
says “L’haim!”
On this Yom Kippur eve we know of the traditional image of the Book of Life
slowly closing. I wish that we may all be inscribed in it for a good year to come
and so I also say to you “L’haim!” Let life flourish!