When Tragedy Becomes a Statistic
Whether celebratory or tragic, we all have our own list of “where were you when” moments, times when we remember with perfect clarity where we were and what we were doing as truly landmark events unfolded around us.
Growing up, my mother would often tell us where she was and what she was doing when she heard that President John F. Kennedy had been shot. The milkman had just made his delivery when the news broke. He sat together with my grandmother at her kitchen table, and they cried together.
For my generation, undoubtedly, 9/11 is that moment. For me, it was my second day at Yeshiva University. I had just sat down in the Beis Midrash when news began circulating that a plane had struck the World Trade Center. To be honest, having grown up in Boston, I didn’t yet fully appreciate what those towers represented and just how significant they were, so I continued learning.
It was only when the second airplane hit that we realized the magnitude of what was unfolding. Rabbi Yosef Blau, the longtime mashgiach of YU, banged on the bimah, stopped everyone’s learning, and led hundreds of students in reciting Tehillim. It was a powerful and unforgettable moment.
The Baal Shem Tov teaches that within every tragedy there is a divine spark waiting to be elevated. Our task is not to become numb to suffering — whether our own or the world’s — but to remain present, to feel, and to respond with compassion and action. Every statistic was once a person with a name, a story, a family.
When we remember that, when we refuse to let suffering become abstract, we fulfill the Torah’s call: “Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor.” The antidote to tragedy becoming a statistic is to remember the humanity behind every number.