Being greatful and remebering loved ones

Dear Friends,

Earlier this week, my wife and I were in Shanksville, Pennsylvania for the private memorial for the families and friends of Flight 93. There was a funeral and burial for three caskets of remains which have been found over the past 10 years. The local funeral home staff and others dug 40 feet down in order to search for the limited remains that could be found that were not burned up in the crash. The service which was held was an interfaith service with those representing each religion praying in ways that were meaningful to the adherents of their religion.

I was representing the Jewish faith and began my remarks by suggesting that I felt like the doctor in the movie, “Field of Dreams” who was asked whether he was ever sorry he had not tried to be a ball player and responds that he would have been sorry if he had not become a doctor especially when he saves the little girl in the movie. Well, after 30 years in the rabbinate, I feel that perhaps yesterday was one of the reasons I had become a rabbi. If I could provide any comfort to the victims’ families and friends, then perhaps I would feel that I had made a difference as a rabbi. (Yes, like many of us, even rabbis sometimes wonder if we are making a difference….)

As the service progressed and the three clergy spoke from our religious perspectives, one could see the tears, feel the pain and anguish, and witness what I hope and pray was a transformation from grieving to healing. The minister spoke of leaving the pain behind and taking away hope that their loved ones had made a difference and in the love their loved ones shared with them, while recognizing that anniversaries and birthdays may never be the same; the priest spoke of the holiness of the ground on which we were standing, following up on the imagery of the Gettysburg address; the representative of the funeral home spoke of the area in which they are now buried as a cemetery that will always mark the place where their loved ones died; and I spoke of the Jewish custom of burying the despair and regrets, and taking away the courage that their loved ones had exhibited as they made their lives a blessing through their love and by saving so many others.

As we walked from the site of the service to the place of burial, we walked along the flight path of United Flight 93 through the open field. As the clouds dissipated and the sun came out, people cried, they held each other, young children got antsy, and the mood became one of hope with the realization that after 10 long years, the families and friends could feel a sense of closure. After the service concluded, everyone had the opportunity to put a rose on the gravesite and people hugged me in ways that only family members and close friends have hugged me before. People took pictures of the clergy to document this historical moment and I was even asked for an autograph so that future generations would know who had been present at this sacred occasion.

I may never have this kind of opportunity again (and due to the nature of this tragedy, I hope that I do not have to participate in this kind of service again) but am grateful for the honor and privilege of being able to perhaps alleviate a bit of pain, and inspire hope for the future.

Thanks for reading this. As one of the family members told me, no one who visits that place ever leaves it as the same person. I do not know what changes will occur in my life based upon this experience but I do know I am forever blessed to have been part of this incredible memorial for incredible heroes.

B’shalom,
Rabbi Bruce Aft

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