On October 27, 2018, three congregations were holding their morning Shabbat services at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood when a lone gunman entered the building and opened fire. He killed eleven people and injured six more in the deadliest anti-Semitic attack in American history. The story made international headlines for weeks following the shooting, but Pittsburgh and the local Jewish community could not simply move on when the news cycle did. The essays in this anthology, written by local journalists, academics, spiritual leaders, and other community members, reveal a city’s attempts to come to terms with an unfathomable horror. Here, members from each of the three impacted congregations are able to reflect on their experiences in a raw, profound way. Local journalists who covered the story as it unfolded explore the personal and public aspects of reporting the news. Activists consider their work at a calm distance from the chaotic intensity of their daily efforts. Academics mesh their professional expertise with their personal experiences of this shattering event in their hometown. A local rabbi shares his process for crafting messages of comfort even as he attempts to reckon with his own feelings. Bringing these local voices together into a chorus raises them over the din of international chroniclers who offer important contributions but cannot feel the intensity of this tragedy in the same way as Pittsburghers. The essays in this anthology tell a collective story of city shaken to its very core, but determined that love will ultimately win. A portion of the proceeds from the sale of this book will go to Jewish Family and Community Service of Pittsburgh ( which serves individuals and families of all faiths throughout the Greater Pittsburgh community.
A difficult but important read for me. My physician of 40 years, Dr. Jerry Rabinowitz, was one of the eleven Jews gunned down at The Tree of Life on October 27, 2018. This book was written by local and international journalists, essayists, archivists, community members, and members of the three congregations who held services in the Tree of Life building. Jerry is mentioned several times in these essays, which was comforting; perhaps more important than that comfort was the education I received from these wise writers.
I learned about Squirrel Hill, the Pittsburgh neighborhood where the synagogue is. Squirrel Hill is where I once sold advertising space, ate lunches with my grandmother, sold my old vinyl, visited my grandparents' graves...so I thought I knew all about it. Turns out, no. I also learned about Judaism itself and the forward-thinking natures of Jewish people worldwide, the strength that has been built over centuries of struggle.
A tough holiday read, but this was borrowed from the local library after a lengthy wait, and I didn't want to lose it before I got to it. Worth every minute I invested.
This book was a difficult, deliberate read for me for many reasons. Most nights after reading I went to sleep with nightmares related to the tragedy, or dreams of somehow helping to return religious articles to the people of the Jewish community in Squirrel Hill. On the day of the shooting, I was minutes away from walking by Tree of Life with my dog Maggie like we did every morning, when this horrible tragedy occurred. We had decided to turn around across the way on a whim. I heard all the shots and sirens from in the shower minutes later, and emerged to my reformed Jewish sister sobbing on the phone, asking if we were okay.
Squirrel Hill, particularly Squirrel Hill and its Jewish community, is intertwined throughout all of my life thus far. My mother grew up here. My father is handyman to many of its residents, some of whom were mentioned in this book. I now work serving many of the congregants impacted by this hate crime everyday in a quiet capacity that many of them may not notice, but I see them and I care for them. And I am grateful to be able to do so, grateful for this community which is still strong, vibrant, and provided for much of my life by giving my father work. My father who, despite having a Yiddish Hungarian surname, is devoutly Catholic because his Hungarian Baptist father married an Irish-German Catholic woman.
In my adult life, living here in Squirrel Hill still (though now farther from the Tree of Life) and often being mistaken for being Jewish myself, I keenly recognize I am merely an observer, an outsider looking in who has been touched by the Jewish community here all my life. But I do wonder, how long ago we too were Jewish, if our ancestors were persecuted in Hungary/Romania, and if this led them to give up their religion for "safer" Christianity. Overall, that day in October left me with the sad feeling of, "Perhaps this is why we are no longer Jewish, here in America." Or maybe it simply ended with an earlier marriage to another non-Jewish woman. And I am still left here wondering where I fit, as a young woman who feels almost certain there is a God because there is still so much beauty in life, but still agnostic because I am not certain of any one religion.
I am thankful that some essays included in this book acknowledge without naivete the anti-semitism and racism that is still very much alive and well in Pittsburgh, and all of America. Meanwhile, I am also deeply thankful for those essays from people who bravely continue to keep their faith with their life in so many ways, who show up for prayer, who lift up their community and without flinching or disputing their innate value, aid the immigrant, and stand for justice and equality everywhere.
This book reflects upon, and allows us to get to know the community of, one of the defining events of Jewish American life. Prior to Pittsburgh, we could say to ourselves when facing anti-semitism "at least it is not the violence our ancestors feared, experienced and escaped in the old country." With Pittsburgh, the casual anti-Semitism we experienced we had to face could turn to violence.
I'm not from Pittsburgh and do not literally know the martyrs or the community. However to paraphrase from the sermon that Rabbi Shira Stutman gave the following Shabbat at 6&i synagogue in Washington, DC every Jewish person knows people so similar to the martyrs. The ones who come to shul early to pass out prayer books, to ensure a minyan, those who are the pillars of our community. Our loss was dual, knowing that we lost safety we had previously felt and knowing how easily this could have been any of our communities.
I really appreciated that the Pittsburgh community gave us an insight, beyond the general solidarity we felt, into the members of their community. Although this book was painful to read, I am thankful I took the time to read it and deepen my understanding of how we continue to rebuild after such loss.
In July 2019, I took part in a “Lights for Liberty” vigil at Temple Concord after Friday night services. Members of the synagogue were joined by other faith groups in a silent protest against the inhumane treatment of refugees. Earlier that day, I’d suffered another bout of vertigo and asked a synagogue member who lives nearby to drive me to services. I was using my cane and given a chair to sit on during the vigil because it was hard for me to stand. As we all gathered on the lawn outside the building on Riverside Drive, a disturbing thought entered my mind: We made an easy target for a drive-by shooting. One automatic weapon could have mowed us down in minutes – long before we could have run inside for safety. Fortunately, there was no violence that night, but reading “Bound in the Bond of Life: Pittsburgh Writers Reflect on the Tree of Live Tragedy” edited by Beth Kissileff and Eric Lidji revived that memory. See the rest of my column at https://www.thereportergroup.org/stre...
Traveling around Italy in 1989, my wife and I were amazed at the security around synagogues, the need for ID even to go in. We were so happy that nothing like that was required in America. Of course, little by little, that began to change, especially after 9/11. The date that shattered that illusion once and for all was October 27, 2018 with the terrorist attack at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh where 11 worshippers were murdered on a Shabbat morning. This book is a collection of reporters, Rabbis and others' thoughts about their experiences of that tragic day. As difficult it is to read some of this trauma, this is an important tribute to the 11 dead and for our understanding of the re-awakening of antisemitism in our day. Highly recommended.
The Synagogue massacre in 2018 is the worst thing that's happened during the time I've lived here.
This book is a collection of essays by authors who live in Pittsburgh. Some essays are more appealing than others. Some essays are thoroughly Jewish in perspective, while others are simply human in perspective.
Very difficult for me to read emotionally, but an important book with a wonderfully diverse array of perspectives and reflections from community members about 10/27. A must-read for anyone seeking to understand Squirrel Hill's Jewish community, the 10/27 tragedy, or the community's response to it.
This book appeared quite intriguing to me. Once I got into the book however, the Hebrew text took a bit of the valueaway for me. I realize the importance of the Hebrew text in this book however, I got lost before the translation began, and it was like playing catch-up.