Dear Friends,
Right now, we all feel the question: Where were you on September 11, 2001? 
I remember clearly.
I was in Chicago, in yeshiva, together with my friend Levi Chanowitz. When we heard what was happening, we rushed over to a hotel lobby to see the news on TV. Like everyone else, I can still see those moments in my mind. The New York skyline, once crowned by two proud towers, was suddenly filled with smoke and fire. The world stood still.
Until then, we believed our safety was unshakable. As Americans, we carried a sense of invincibility, certain that nothing could pierce the security of our lives. And in a single morning, that illusion was gone.
But when we ask, "Where were you on September 11?" it’s not just about geography. It’s a deeper question. Where were you emotionally? Mentally? Where were we as a society? And perhaps more importantly, where are we now?
Today is Chai Elul, a very special day in the Chassidic calendar. It is the birthday of the Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Chassidic movement, and of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the Alter Rebbe, founder of Chabad. The Alter Rebbe once asked: why does G-d call out “Ayeka? which means “Where are you?” to Adam in the Garden of Eden. Surely, G-d already knew.
His answer was that every person must hear this question. It is a timeless question that goes beyond physical location and asks us to reflect, where are you in life? How are you using the time you have been given? What is happening inside you?
When tragedy strikes, when unrest unsettles us, when violence shocks society, when the world feels unsteady, that question returns. Just yesterday, the shocking and horrific assassination of Charlie Kirk shook us deeply. Our hearts go out to his family, to America, and to our nation. Whatever our politics, moments like this call us to step back, to recognize the sanctity of life, and to come together as one nation. We feel this even more deeply on September 11, a day that reminds us how fragile life can be and how deeply we need compassion and unity.
Where are we? Do we grow numb, or do we rise? Do we let darkness define us, or do we respond with light?
One of the things I remember hearing most from the days following September 11 was how New Yorkers were different. People on the subways and in the streets were a little kinder, more open, more willing to exchange a friendly word.
Being married to Ettie, who was born and raised in Crown Heights and still knows the subways like the back of her hand, I hear from her just how striking the shift was.
There was heroism beyond measure. First responders who saved so many, ordinary people who helped strangers, and families whose lives were forever changed. Americans stood together. Strangers became brothers and sisters.
That spirit is not gone. It lives in us, waiting to be awakened again.
So let us rekindle that sense of obligation to the people around us. Start with family, relatives, and even those who are difficult to love. Carry it into our neighborhoods, communities, and country. This is the true American spirit, and it is also the essence of the Chassidic message: bring more light, more kindness, more love into the world.
The greatest tribute to September 11 is to practice simple acts of kindness. Not as naïve optimism, but as the deepest necessity. That is what our world needs now more than ever.
So let us each ask: Where am I? Where do I stand on September 11, 2025? And let us answer by standing a little taller, speaking a little kinder, and bringing a little more light into the world.
May the memory of all those lost be a blessing. May their families find comfort. May the hostages be returned safely, and may G-d bless Israel, America, and the entire world with a true and lasting peace. May we all be written and sealed for a year of life, peace, and revealed goodness.
With love and blessings,
Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos