Area residents came together in Lawrence last Thursday for an interfaith service
By: Steve Bates
"It is the reality of an open wound which brings us here this evening," said Rabbi Daniel Grossman at an interfaith service at Adath Israel Congregation two days after the terrorist attacks in New York and at the Pentagon. "It is a time to sit with our neighbors and weep with them, and unite in a belief that life matters."
The affirmation of life, along with a rallying cry to remain above all, one nation under God, was how about 500 area residents chose to reflect on the tragedy and draw on their faith to keep events in perspective.
By then, the television news had begun to decrease the number of times per hour that it showed the images of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center fall or of the Pentagon in Virginia burn. By that point, many people and many news agencies began to turn their attention to mourning and memorials. And it was no different at Adath Israel.
By 7 p.m., cars began rolling into the synagogue parking on Lawrence Road. Within 20 minutes, all the spaces were filled and the Lawrence police began directing vehicles to the Rider University lot across the street. Then even more people came. Traffic on the road was backed up to the I-95 overpass and people streamed into the synagogue in groups of about a dozen.
On her way in, Dolores McElroy of Marlboro Road said she hasn’t been able to fathom what had happened in New York City and at the Pentagon. She and her friend, Ginny Belviso, said they had attended a prayer service at The Church of St. Ann the night before, but felt they "had" to come to the service at Adath. Ms. Belviso, a Brearley Avenue resident, said people in their congregation have always come together to help people in need, but the urge to do so just seemed so much larger this time.
"I think we’ve always come together in a time of crisis, but this time even more so," she said. "I’ve never seen it at this magnitude."
The outpouring that she was witnessing seemed to help temper the memories Ms. Belviso had of Tuesday morning, she said.
"I saw it all," she said. "I sat down at 8:30 to have a cup of coffee."
Ms. Belviso said she heard the initial report of the first plane striking the World Trade Center. Like many people, she initially believed that what she had seen and heard was a terrible freak accident. But, when the second plane crashed, she changed her mind.
"I remember thinking, ‘They meant it. They really meant it,’ " she said.
Phil Bernstein said he was still thinking over what had happened on Sept. 11.
"I keep thinking of my son, who worked for three years on the top floor of one of those towers and how I would feel if something had happened to him," he said.
Inside, the sanctuary was filled with people talking. Some hugged. Others wiped back tears, and then hugged.
Some were solemn. Others beamed when they caught a glimpse of one of their neighbors. The phrase, "It’s good to see you," repeated over and over, took on an eerie depth that it doesn’t usually possess.
The sanctuary can hold about 375 people at full capacity. Every seat was full, and people lined the wings and walls bringing the total to around 500, Rabbi Grossman, spiritual leader of the congregation, would later estimate.
"O Lord, we have lost an innocence we should not have assumed," said Rabbi Grossman at the beginning of the service.
A number of psalms were read, so were letters from public officials who offered their condolences.
Councilman Rick Miller contacted The Lawrence Ledger earlier in the day to say he would be unable to attend the service. He and his wife, Sharon, were in New York City waiting for word on her cousin, who worked for Cantor Fitzgerald Securities on the 103rd floor of 1 World Trade Center. He is still missing and presumed dead.
Prayers were said. At the end of the ceremony, Cantors Murray Simon and David Wisnia led participants in an emotionally powerful rendition of "God Bless America." The strongest feelings, however, were elicited by those who spoke to the crowd.
"Sometimes tragic things happen, and we don’t like that," said Imam Abjul-Malik Ali of the Masjidut-Taqwa Mosque in Trenton. "But God said he’s gonna test us for richer or poorer … to find out who’s the best among us.
"In order to ensure this never happens again, we need to look at each other as human beings first. We’re here to heal and get past what has happened, and there is a long way to go."
Imam Ali said that the attacks on America go against the teachings of Islam and the concept of martyrdom as well.
"A martyr dies honorably on the battlefield," he said. "Islam tells you that you don’t harm the innocent. Rather than being a martyr, that person turns out to be a murderer."
In a room with palpable tension, Mayor Pam Mount encouraged all who attended to turn to those sitting near them and introduce themselves, which seemed to open a pressure valve. The mayor said the week was one that will be a turning point in our country. She said she believed that the losses that the American people have suffered would "cement our resolve to cherish all that we have here."
Congregation member Sue Robbins of Ewing, addressed the crowd on behalf of the Community Blood Council of New Jersey and spoke about the feeling of helplessness that has afflicted people since the tragedy began.
She told how she had rushed out to the local blood bank upon hearing of the tragedy because she wanted to be helpful. She wound up not donating blood, but answering phones for the blood council and acting as a de facto public relations coordinator during the three-day rush.
Ms. Robbins explained to the crowd that the outpouring of kindness in the form of blood donations had helped the blood council reach its quotas and that it was presently unable to handle any more donations. But, as political leaders also have recently explained, there will be plenty of opportunities to help out in the near and foreseeable future, she said.
"We will need blood in three weeks and for the remainder of the year," she said.
As Rabbi Dovid Dubov, director of Chabad of Princeton, spoke specifically of one family’s loss, the heavy sighs from those who knew them punched the air almost as if someone had sat on a row of piano keys. Some shook their heads. Others mouthed the words, "My God."
Rabbi Grossman, who had sat with the family earlier in the day, said many may be wondering where God was while this madness was going on.
The rabbi responded by saying that God was in every helping hand and in every straining back of rescue workers.
"God was in a room today that I left a few hours ago," he said slowly, "trying to comfort a family, consoling them because a 23-year-old member of the family was dead."
Attempting to put the future into perspective, Rabbi Grossman referred to a parable about two men who were lost in the desert. Each had come from a different direction. When the two men meet, the first man despairs. He concludes that both of them have come from the wrong way and are, therefore, doomed. But the second man explains that at least they both have learned which way not to go.
"Together, we will find a way to heal, to mourn and to continue as a community," said the rabbi.

