Knowing Eleven: Reflections on the Twenty Third Anniversary of September 11th in a Time of Grief

Twenty-three years ago, the world ended for 2,977 people, was shattered for many more, and radically changed for everyone.  The anniversary of September 11th jars us back to remember that perfect blue New York sky, the succession of images, indelible now, unfathomable then.  For many of us, this anniversary falls as we approach the one year mark of another unforgettable day, October 7th, when the world ended for over 1200 Israelis, became unimaginable hell for hundreds more and their families, and radically changed for thousands in Israel, in Gaza and throughout the world.  While the aftershocks of September 11th are still profound over twenty years later, October 7th is a volcano still erupting. 

Even as we anticipate what will be when the first anniversary is reached, a few days ago marked a span of time with its own significance - eleven months.  Eleven months is the length of time that a predominance of Jewish communities expect a mourner to say Kaddish even though the full term of mourning is a year.  The reason most often given is linked to the strangely unclear origins of the Mourner’s Kaddish itself.

Saying Kaddish is one of the most well-known Jewish customs, but the practice of a mourner reciting Kaddish during public prayers only emerged sometime in the eleventh century coinciding with the horrific massacres of Jews by the eager participants in the Crusades.  There are no sources to connect all the dots but a confluence of accounts, rabbinic literature and annotated prayer books point to the belief that the recitation of certain parts of the service including the Kaddish could help the soul of a wicked person escape punishment after death.  To say Kaddish for a year is then a kindness to ensure a loved one is safe from post-mortal punishment.  Of course, no one wants to cast aspersions on their loved ones as in need of such intervention, so the custom was implemented to stop at the eleventh month signaling both our love and our faith that our loved one’s already are worthy.

Despite the widespread nature of the custom many authorities objected to the implications that a person’s fate could be altered by a mourner’s intercession. In the sixteenth century under the influence of Kabbalistic mysticism the imagery shifted from saving a soul to honoring the soul’s rise to Heaven.  But customs hang on tighter than reason especially when it comes to mourning. The fear that the way we mourn will reflect poorly on our loved ones outweighs the logic.  So the practice of stopping at eleven months persisted. 

Perhaps the strength of the custom of reciting Kaddish for only eleven months is that the more we want to honor our loved one the more we realize that there must be an end to saying Kaddish daily. And maybe it needs to be that way because otherwise how would we ever know when to stop?

Twenty-three years after September 11tth, we are reminded that while wounds can heal and grief can subside, we must never forget. 

Regarding October 7th, eleven months might as well be eleven days or eleven hours.We mark each month, the eleventh or any other with incredulity.  For many, even as the calendar insists otherwise, the day  never even ended. The wound is open. There is no sense of what it would mean to remember rather than grieve.  

At some point however, the eleventh month will come for real as it has for the precious souls of the 2,977 who were murdered on September 11th.

Our tradition and deep seated practices guide us how to move from shock to mourning to memory. They teach us when to stop saying a daily kaddish not for running out of love but out of recognition that the souls of those we love have come to rest.