Dear TBZ Community,
Today, as we mark 24 years since 9/11, we remember how the world changed. Though I wasn’t yet living in this country, I vividly recall hearing the news while on a bus in Israel, traveling with other rabbinical students, many of them Americans, as we tried to make sense of what we were hearing. The next day, during morning prayers at rabbinical school, I went to one of my mentors and burst into tears, asking: How could the world be like this? How is such hatred and violence possible? What do we do next?
September 11 already meant something deeply personal to me. I grew up in Chile during the dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet, who seized power through a military coup on September 11, 1973 – less than a year before I was born. The regime officially ended in March 1990, 17 years later, but not before the deaths and disappearances of at least 3,200 people. Living through that time shaped my understanding of fear, loss, and the consequences of hatred and oppression.
As I spend time reading about 9/11 in both 2001 and 1973 (or “once de septiembre,” as we call it), and as I witness the realities of our world today – with too many choosing the path of violence, hatred, and oppression – I remind myself not to give up on a vision of a better world. A world of better people, of better choices. This is not easy, but it is urgent – and it needs to be said and repeated again and again, even when it feels obvious.
This week’s Torah portion, Parshat Ki Tavo, begins with instructions to the Israelites: express gratitude to God for their harvests and for freedom from slavery, by tithing ten percent of their crops for the Levite, the stranger, the orphan, and the widow. It is then followed by a section of blessings and curses: if the Israelites obey God’s mitzvot (commandments) faithfully, they will receive every blessing imaginable; if they do not, curses will follow. The parasha ends with Moses reminding the Israelites of the miracles they witnessed in the wilderness and commanding them to observe the covenant so that they may succeed in all they undertake.
This parasha feels like a roller coaster – blessing and curse, gratitude and despair, possibility and dead-end – similar to how many of us feel these days.
One of the blessings (Deuteronomy 28:13) says:
וּנְתָנְךָ יְהֹוָה לְרֹאשׁ וְלֹא לְזָנָב וְהָיִיתָ רַק לְמַעְלָה וְלֹא תִהְיֶה לְמָטָּה
Adonai will make you the head, not the tail; you will always be at the top and never at the bottom.
Taken literally, it can sound as if success requires someone else to fail. In a competitive, divided world, we often experience it this way: for the good to win, the bad must lose.
But perhaps there is another way to read it. Perhaps being the head, not the tail, is about rising – rising from the wreckage, rising with tears and courage. Perhaps it is about the practice of overcoming, about striving to become who we are meant to be in this world, and about lifting others as we rise.
Reading this verse today, in the context of all that we have witnessed – personal and collective tragedies, the persistence of hatred, violence and oppression – it calls on us not to despair, but to act. To take the energy of grief, of witnessing injustice, and transform it into courage and care. Being “the head, not the tail” can mean choosing to rise above indifference, to stand with those who suffer, to make small and large acts of goodness that ripple outward into the world. It is an invitation to align our aspirations with our actions, so that our lives reflect the vision of blessing and life that Torah calls us toward.
I pray that we have the courage to keep believing that human beings can do better, that the world can be better for every human being. I pray that, together, we can bring the change that is urgently needed.
As we hold these memories – of 9/11 in the United States, of the coup in Chile, and of the blessings and warnings in Ki Tavo – we are reminded that history and scripture alike call us to awareness and choice. We remember the depths of human cruelty, but we are also invited to rise, to act, and to aspire. The Torah teaches that life and blessing are possible when we commit ourselves to justice, compassion, and care for one another. On this day of remembrance, may we honor the past, confront the present, and reach toward a future shaped not by hatred, but by hope, empathy, and love.
May this Shabbat bring moments of stillness, clarity, and connection.
May we reach for one another gently, lovingly.
May all who are in pain or danger find safety and comfort.
May the remaining hostages in Gaza come home.
May no one, anywhere, lack food or water – the most basic essentials of life.
May people in our country not live in fear of being taken away.
May those working for peace be granted strength and courage.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia