By Campbell Robertson
The New York Times, October 27, 2019
PITTSBURGH — It was a scene that would have infuriated the man who set off a whole year of pain and sorrow. Men and women, Jewish, Muslim, Christian, crowded elbow to elbow around tables at the Jewish Family and Community Services building, making blankets for refugees and packing bags of crayons and coloring books for the young and undocumented.
“We are here and we are not scared,” declared Laura Horowitz, a member of Dor Hadash, one of the three Jewish congregations that were attacked on Oct. 27, 2018, by an anti-Semitic gunman enraged about their welcoming of refugees.
Ms. Horowitz tied another knot in the fringe of a blanket, and then qualified her declaration. “Maybe we are scared,” she said. “But we’re here anyway.”
On Sunday, Pittsburgh marked one year since 11 worshipers of three congregations were killed at the Tree of Life-Or L’Simcha synagogue. It was a citywide commemoration, beginning with community service projects all around town, continuing in Torah study sessions at the city’s largest synagogue, and culminating with a solemn service at the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Hall, the site of a packed commemoration the day after the attack.
“I stood here one year ago still in shock over the brutal massacre in my synagogue, Tree of Life, not knowing what to say,” said Rabbi Jeffrey Myers in remarks on Sunday night.
The evening program was full of psalms and prayers, candle-lighting and poetry. A video was played showing family members of the 11 deceased, now known by name across the city: 97-year-old Rose Mallinger; the beloved Rosenthal brothers, David and Cecil; Richard Gottfried, a pillar of the New Light congregation. The governor and the mayor spoke briefly, but most of the time was given to leaders of the three congregations.
“Xenophobia is as ancient as humanity; anti-Semitic hatred is also nothing new,” said Anne-Marie Mizel Nelson, a daughter of founding members of Dor Hadash. “It has not defeated us yet. And it will not defeat us now.”
Since almost immediately after the attack, a discussion about how best to move forward has never been far removed from the grief of what was lost. It was not far on Sunday, either.
Apparently alluding to those who have urged a focus on policy changes like gun control in response to the attack, Rabbi Myers acknowledged that people had chided him “that my efforts would be better spent on more achievable goals.” He continued: “My tradition teaches us the following: It is not incumbent upon you to finish the task, but you are not absolved from trying.”
Immediately following him, Rabbi Jonathan Perlman of New Light Congregation drew a long standing ovation when he specifically called on politicians to pass gun control measures. He followed that with a criticism of the government for pushing toward a capital trial for the synagogue attacker rather than accepting a guilty plea for life in prison. A trial, the rabbi said, would “retraumatize our families.”
“Please,” he said. “Please, let us treat each other with great warmth and sympathy.”
Many in the three congregations had not especially been looking forward to Sunday, having already spent a year in grief. Some of those who had lost relatives in the attack simply left town. The day’s agenda, though, was created by family members, as well as others in the congregations and a host of Jewish service agencies across the city.
The morning’s community service projects were scattered all over the city, at the J.F.C.S. building, at food pantries, libraries and blood drives, and, with saws and clippers, at the vine-choked Shaare Torah cemetery in the city’s South Hills.
“People have asked me this year, ‘How do you move on?’” said Rabbi Daniel Wasserman at the cemetery, his work-gloved hands on his hips. “We’re not moving on,” he said sermonically. “We’re moving forward. There is a difference.”
Hacking through the brush on the hill in front of him were a couple of dozen volunteers, including two women who had driven that morning all the way from Baltimore and a 74-year-old Pittsburgh man who had just come across the grave of his great-grandfather.
As at all the volunteer events, some of the participants had close connections with the congregations that were attacked, and some had no ties at all. There was much talk about the need to do something to mark the day, of the particularly Jewish imperative of doing good in the world, and of how this was an essentially Pittsburgh impulse as well.
“Maybe it’s the influence of Mr. Rogers,” said Noah Jordan, 32, who had grown up in the Tree of Life congregation and on Sunday morning was among the volunteers making bags for immigrants. In the earliest hours after the shooting, he said, he thought of it as an attack on the Jewish community. “But then, everyone in Pittsburgh saw this as an attack on all of us.”