It is not a surprise that the current COVID-19 pandemic has made us all seek entertainment and knowledge through surprising means. As for me, I turned to Spotify for tuning in to podcasts. This blog post is to publish my take on an episode which affected me deeply.
The episode in question is 'Their Day' from the podcast Terrible, Thanks for Asking. The podcast is abbreviated to TTFA and it focuses primarily on cathartic events that happened to people, analyzing how each person got through a trauma that shook their lives. There are light-hearted moments, tear-jerking ones, vivid descriptions and as people share their stories, the listener gets a glimpse of how the narrators came to terms with their personal battles.
Their Day is the second of three episodes that focus on the shooting at the Tree of Life Synagogue on October 27, 2018, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The characteristic that sets this episode apart from other documentaries is the way it narrates the attack, through two different events that were happening at two different synagogues: one Orthodox and one Reformed, through people who were not directly present at the Tree of Life synagogue. But as the episode progresses, it reveals how people, as a community, bond together irrespective of whether they were directly affected or not. It shows how humans draw together and find solace in each other's presence in the face of common adversity. It opened my eyes to the absolute definition of humanity: Compassion.
The episode starts with the host Nora McInerny introducing the two children central to each event happening at each synagogue. Nora talks to the family of Nate, a young 13-year-old boy who had his Bar Mitzvah scheduled on the fateful Saturday. Nate belongs to an Orthodox Jewish family, who abstain from work, which includes using technology, even cellphones, on the day of the Sabbath. To mark the transition into a full functioning adult of the congregation, every boy child has a Bar Mitzvah ceremony, where he is called upon to read from the Torah. Nate had been preparing for two years for this day. In another household, another beautiful family is preparing for the naming ceremony of their baby girl. Adam and Mathew are the proud parents of two daughters, and today is the day their youngest girl is to be given her Hebrew name, thus becoming an official member of the congregation. Relatives are arriving from all over the city, happy to join the ceremony. Nate and the baby girl are all set to have their events at their respective synagogues, oblivious to the existence of each other.
But what would happen next was to be an attack on their community as a whole, irrespective of the synagogue they went to, or the branch of Judaism they followed. Nate starts his Torah reading, and people start noticing the sound of sirens outside. As the reading progresses, the Rabbi addresses the congregation with the message: There has been a shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue and there have been casualties. The fear and confusion inside the room are almost tangible, there is no way people can get information, as phones are off-limits on the day of the Sabbath. There is only the non-Jew janitor who is the bridge between the whole congregation and the outside world. He checks on his phone for updates and keeps the Rabbi posted. Over at the Road of Shalom synagogue where Adam and Mathew attend, the situation is the same: growing alarm and confusion. The Rabbi informs the members that their synagogue is on lock-down, fearing organized attacks on all the synagogues in the vicinity. The portrayal of the fear creeping up over the members' backs is graphic enough to quicken up the listener's pulse.
At Nate's place of worship, a similar lock-down has been enforced. The worry of a teenage child and that of the grownups are contrasted with brilliant effect, making the listener understand how the gravity of the situation affected each person differently. Nate only recollects how he was anxious not to forget his parts. Nate's dad Rob starts worrying about his youngest child, who is separated from the family and locked in another part of the synagogue. Members belonging to other synagogues had come to this synagogue to attend Nate's Bar Mitzvah, and in some cases, only a husband or a wife came, while their significant other attended service at their own synagogue. Now there is panic among such people, who are unsure if their spouse is safe elsewhere. Despite all this, Nate continues his Torah reading, with the Rabbi rising during each Aliyah, or pause, to deliver announcements to the gathering. Adam picks up his eldest daughter, and holds her in his lap, twisting his body to shield her from any attacked entering the door. And the service goes on, despite the incessant ringing of phones. Never hindered by the shock rippling through the members of the congregation in waves. In a way, this reminds me of how life and time go on, unbothered by catastrophes of any kind.
As Mathew and Adam take their baby to the platform to be named, she lets out a tiny giggle. The soft giggle is picked up by the acoustics, and echoes throughout the sanctuary, instantly lightening up the mood. All the people find themselves giggling involuntarily, snapping out of the dense cloud of worry hanging over them. How beautiful that a child's giggle blots fear with absolute ease! The service draws to a close and people start calling and texting their loved ones, unable to leave as the lock-down is still in effect. The moods in the synagogue swing from anger to helplessness, fear, protectiveness, and relief. Adam and Mathew had arranged for lunch to celebrate their daughter's naming, and the lunch begins, things looking like they were at last returning to normalcy. If not completely, in a way at least. They invite other people of the synagogue, who aren't relatives, to join in the feast. It is their daughter's big day and they had all just been spared a violent death. So a celebration was certainly in order, right? This is the little part where all the people come together, bonding in the face of an attack that had threatened to jolt them all.
Adam looks back and remembers how his eldest daughter picked all the colorful balloons, holding so many of them in her little hands, while she stood happily in a black and white striped dress. He says it was beautiful to see a splash of color paired so well with her monochrome outfit. In a way, I see the monochrome dress as the dread and anxiety that ruled over the members' minds that day. And the colors, for me, seem to be the humanity and empathy that brought those people together, easing away their differences, uniting them in the face of adversity. Nate's mom Shelly tells Nora that they would never think twice about breaking the no-phone rule if a life was in danger. Rob says he felt like it was a blessing he did not use his phone, a part of him did not want to know how many people had been shot dead. It is understandable, considering the trauma he had undergone the whole day, trapped in his place of worship, worried if it would be targeted next.
Shelly remembers how she couldn't form a coherent answer when her non-Jew friends called to check on her family. The reality of the day's terrifying event sinks in, when Shelly and Rob reveal something that shocks us all. The Tree of Life synagogue had only 12 active members attending the main service at 9.45 am; Nate's synagogue had 400 members attending the Bar Mitzvah ceremony at 9.45 that day. I feel my heart turn cold when I listen to them. What if the shooter had chosen their synagogue that day? "They died holding the prayer books that we hold every day, I don't care what branch they belonged to. They died because they were Jews," says Shelly.
The attack was targeted at people of her community, irrelevant of branches. While 11 people died, hundreds of others were deeply scarred by the shooting. All the people who practiced Judaism felt attacked that day. The hate that the members of the Tree of Life synagogue had been subjected to did not stop there. Every member of every synagogue knew that it could have happened to them. It could have happened to any other synagogue. A rumor starts circulating all over the Internet, alluding to a homophobic hysteria as the reason for the shooting. Mathew and Adam wonder if the rumor was about them. Did the shooting happen because they were gay members of the community? "I can't believe this. There were kids. It was a sacred day. It was my daughter's day, right?" Adam asks with a break in his voice. Nate is a child, he only remembers how he succeeded in finishing his Torah reading.
As the episode nears the end, Adam breaks down about the anti-Semitic and homophobic harassment he and his family go through on a daily basis. He remembers how a woman once body-slammed a bully who was picking on him. He draws a parallel to that, thinking that the support the community extends to him is identical to the way the woman helped him, only now it is not just one person but a whole city doing it. His sobs about how grateful he is for the support can shake any listener and paint a brutal picture of how a gay Jew has to live in fear for almost all his life. When the episode ended, I was left in tears, praying that such acts of hate should never happen again. These are humans, made of the same flesh and blood, co-existing on the same planet. We are all of the same species, there is nothing special about any particular race that warrants supremacy over others.
In the previous episode, "Concentric Circles", a Jewish teacher tells us how her pupil's mother rushed to meet her at school. She remembers breaking down into sobs when the woman said, "We heard about it and you are the only Jew we know so we were so anxious about you the whole day. We were praying for your safety." The woman was Muslim, but religions did not matter there. Is this not what living is about? Being compassionate to people around us and wanting only the best for them? Religions, races, sexual orientations, everything was wiped out that day. People were united as one community, and amid their circle of tightly held hands, humanity bloomed.