this is from the documentary i keep talking about,
Faith and Doubt at Ground Zero, and it strikes me as just about the most powerful thing i can think of. screw the politics, screw the war, screw the mistakes, screw the warped patriotism, screw the last 6 years.
this, to me, is what matters:
[q]These are final conversations that were recorded on cell phones, recorded on voice mail. They seem to me to be incredible texts, because they were at the moment of confronting life or death. They're so pure about the expression of love between husband and wife, between mother and child. ... When I read them, I just felt they were texts as sacred as the text that we end up having recorded, that we transmit from generation to generation.
I read these every single morning now, or most mornings, because they remind me that whatever my tradition is about, it's about this. It's about being able to express love. It's about being able to understand. Taking care of our children. It's about being in real, genuine friendships.
They just seem so real to me. ... I know all these chants because my father is a cantor. He transmitted all these ancient Jewish chants to me, so they almost naturally came out in chant. I realized, "My God, the chant that we use to read one of the Scriptures that tells the story of the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem and the burning down of that temple, those chants fit this perfectly," although that's not how I thought about it. The chant came and then I said the chant worked, which, of course, is the way a good tradition works. The chant has made them even more alive to me and then links these new texts to my traditional text, even though I don't know these people. But the fact is, we all knew these people in our own way. ...
[Singing]:
"Honey. Something terrible is happening. I don't think I'm going to make it. I love you. Take care of the children."
"Hey, Jules. It's Brian. I'm on the plane and it's hijacked and it doesn't look good. I just wanted to let you know that I love you, and I hope to see you again. If I don't, please have fun in life, and live life the best you can. Know that I love you, and no matter what, I'll see you again."
"Mommy. The building is on fire. There's smoke coming through the walls. I can't breathe. I love you, Mommy. Good-bye."[/q]
we are all connected to the 82nd floor.
and now i might have to shut my office door and take a moment to compose myself.