Today is September 11th—twenty-four years since that morning when America was struck and the illusion of invincibility was shattered. The images of the towers falling still define the age we live in. The message of that day was that even the mightiest power could be brought down by the will of evil, and the world has not recovered from that wound.
This week, that memory collides with new realities. Just days ago, Israel struck deep in Doha, right in the heart of the Qatari regime that shelters Hamas leaders. It was an act of courage, a spot of light in this dark week. An act of clarity, of refusal to accept that the architects of October 7th can live in comfort while our people bury their dead. The results are still unknown, but the fact of the strike speaks louder than any result: Israel is not surrendering.
And I cannot forget what happened just this Monday in Jerusalem. At Ramot Junction, two Palestinians opened fire with a homemade submachine gun at a crowded bus stop and inside a bus. Six innocent people were murdered, fifteen were wounded, and some were still fighting for their lives. It was the deadliest attack in the city in nearly a year. I wrote about it in detail here: Massacre in Jerusalem.
At the same time, in America, a nightmare of its own: Charlie Kirk was murdered in Utah. One of the leading young voices of our era, a man with incredible charisma and knowledge, with a way to rally the youth and speak to them with heroic conviction. Of course, many of us would not agree with him on everything—that doesn’t matter. What matters is that he was a man pursuing his life’s mission, reaching young people, speaking to them, dedicating himself to his cause. He had a beautiful young family. And there was no place at all for him to face the fate that he did.
This was a horrendous black mark in the history of America, and especially in the history of its universities. He was murdered while pursuing his life’s mission of speaking and promoting his ideas to the American youth. And now, a beautiful young family has lost a husband and father. My thoughts are with them.
And just before that, the random, senseless stabbing of a young Ukrainian girl, Iryna Zarutska, who fled the war only to meet death on a train in North Carolina. Different tragedies, but all part of the same storm: a world where the forces of cruelty, hatred, and nihilism are unleashed while the guardians of order are hesitant, apologetic, or asleep.
And here I am, writing these words while folding my shirts for a trip to Poland. On Saturday, I will walk through Auschwitz, the abyss of human history. The roller coaster of this week could not be clearer: courage in Israel, collapse in America, horrors in Europe. Life and death, strength and weakness, clarity and confusion.
On this day especially, the contrast is unbearable. Twenty-four years ago, America swore “never again.” Today, America looks shaken, divided, and unsure of itself. Israel, my country, after the massacre of October 7th, still stands, still strikes at the heart of its enemy. Which nations are rising, and which are falling, is no longer a question for history books—it is written in blood before our eyes.
So, as I am writing these words while folding my shirts to go to Poland, I will leave you with a recommendation. Listen to Mahler’s Sixth Symphony. That is the symphony for this week, the Tragic Symphony. No other work captures what we are feeling about these events more than this. And the week is not even over. So go listen to it—now, and have a good weekend.
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Thank you for expressing eloquently what many feel. So sickening. Both the deaths and deeper realization of the rot and absence of freedom in the freest country of the world.