"We must reopen, because if we don't evil wins ... and we're not letting it win on my watch," vows Rabbi Jeffrey Myers.
Myers heads the Tree of Life – Or L'Simcha Congregation, whose synagogue in Pittsburg, bearing the same name, was the target of the worst anti-Semitic incident in American history last year.
He spoke with Israel Hayom several weeks ago, as Pittsburgh's Jewish community was preparing to celebrate the High Holy Days for the first time since the Oct. 27, 2018 massacre at the synagogue, which claimed the lives of 11 Jews.
The victims, all of whom were Jews taking part in Shabbat services in two separate congregations at the complex, were murdered by a white supremacist.
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In the ensuing months, the congregations have had to pray elsewhere because the site of the shooting has yet to be reopened for services.
For Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, it was clear that a big venue was needed. It was then that nearby Calvary Episcopal Church stepped up to the plate: Calvary's head priest, Rev. Jonathon W. Jensen, wrote to Tree of Life, and made it clear that they would go out of their way to make sure the High Holy Days would be properly celebrated.
"Our faith calls us to love God and love our neighbor as ourselves," Jensen said. "And this is one expression of that."
Myers was extremely grateful for that gesture, which meant that some 800 congregants would use the church intermittently for about a month. The regular churchgoers were also invited to attend the services, which saw Torah scrolls and shofars placed next to crosses and images of the Twelve Apostles.
Asked about the reopening date of the synagogue, Myers struggled to answer. "That's a complexed issue to resolve, everyone realizes it's not an easy decision to put in a time frame but one day we will reopen," he said.
During the interview he reflected on that horrific event, sharing his pain at witnessing his congregants' suffering.
"At first I experienced horrible guilt but I've come to recognize I did the best I could, had I perhaps attempted more I probably wouldn't have been standing here.
"Well, I'm standing here talking to you so I guess that's a pretty good testimony amongst all these lights here that I'm doing OK. It's a challenging day by day ... So I've embraced what apparently my mission is and I move forward with it day to day, to take care of myself, take care of my congregation, and to see that 11 people didn't die in vain."
According to Myers, there is no simple answer to what needs to happen in order to return to normalcy, but he has been determined not to fall into despair.
"It's really very easy to fall prey to survivor's guilt, regret, and other feelings, and become a victim. So the feistiness you see in me is that renewed energy and vigor and faith that I have to soldier onward to do the best that I can to make our world a better place."
In the wake of the massacre, President Donald Trump and others have called on the justice system to have the shooter, 46-year-old Robert Gregory Bowers sentenced to death.
Myers refuses to take a stand on this but instead wants to focus on the help he and the community have received in the year since.
"I have no thoughts on the matter, I have complete faith in the Department of Justice to act professionally and do the right thing."
"We've gotten condolences from all over ... being there means a great deal, seeing how much people care. But words aren't necessary. Frequently there are no words and sometimes it's beyond words and just the presence of being there and letting people know you are there. I'm just one of many but it's an entire community embracing each other. That's how we get through it.
"There's no textbook, we're writing the textbook as we go along. And if you look at the research you see there's nothing out there to tell you what to do and how to do it. Particularly for the Jewish community, this has never happened. And the Jewish community has been a part of the United States for 355 years. So we're figuring it out an hour at a time, a day at a time, what to do."
The interview with Myers was conducted at the offices of the Jewish Federation of Greater Pittsburgh, about ten minutes from Squirrel Hill, the neighborhood where the shooting took place. The neighborhood is home to about a quarter of the 50,000 Jews who live in the area.
Family members of the victims sat next to him. During the conversation, everyone took pains to avoid talking about the shooter and to steer clear of politics. They preferred to talk about how everyone in the city, regardless of faith and ethnicity, rallied behind the Jewish community to make sure the synagogue would be renovated and reopened.
"We're very mindful of the terminology, that's the sensitivity we're trying to hold up. Throughout this past year we've discovered that language is important," Director of Jewish Life and Learning at the federation, Rabbi Amy Bardack, who also sat next to Myers, said. "What happened was not a tragedy, as that could be attributed to a natural disaster. And we don't use the word 'event' which can just as easily describe a joyous thing, like a bar mitzvah or a wedding. What we experienced was a malicious, hateful, and deliberate attack," she continued.
"Out only explicit request is that come Oct. 27 that day would be protected, and the city is honoring that by not issuing permits for marches that day," she stressed. "But there's Oct. 28, there are the days before. That's when those who feel passionate about political issues can speak to that. We're just asking for a peaceful memorial day for the community to humbly come together to commemorate."
Cecil and David Rosenthal, two disabled brothers in their fifties, were the first to be killed in the shooting. They lived near the synagogue and attended the services every week. They were loved by the community. Their sister Michele Rosenthal rushed to the scene when her husband called her to tell her there had been a shooting.
"You just got into a mode of taking care of what needs to get done ... Our parents were our priority and just making sure they were getting through this, it's me and my sister," she recalled. "We woke up the next morning and started working on the plans, per my dad's wishes because of the Jewish tradition to do things quickly. Probably best to just say it was just putting one foot in front of the other."
According to Rosenthal, family and community are key to coping with such tragedy, because they are a pillar of stability.
"It helped being surrounded by family and friends who knew how to step in and didn't ask any questions. And having my husband there just to make sure I got through the day. I spent my childhood in that building; I know all the details inside the building. I can't ever go back in."
After entering the ground floor, the shooter went to the basement, where the New Light Congregation was holding service. The Conservative congregation is led by Rabbi Jonathan Perlman, 55, who was at the synagogue during the fateful day. Myers said coping with the events has taken a heavy toll on him, shedding a tear as he spoke.
"I have discovered that trauma has many faces – there are highs and lows that will remain with me for the rest of my life. It's a wound, it's not like grief that you can recover from and make peace with.
"Trauma is something that is ready to attack you at every moment of the day; hearing gunshots on TV, loud booms on the street, might be from a car backfiring, being aware of crowds and suspicious people. It has deeply affected me and the way I deal with it is through psychotherapy primarily, through prayer, being around my friends at New Light. I've held them up but they have also held me up. And I love to interact and laugh with them; it helps me a great deal.
"I have been told that the second year after the anniversary of a trauma is worse. So I'm preparing for that. This resilience is sometimes very surprising. I strive for that but I know it is not something that is always promised
For Rabbi Perlman, the time that has passed may have helped reflect on the events, but the pain is all the same.
"I think a lot about what happened and keep seeing images in my mind. I'll share one experience: There was a man whose name was Mel Wax, who always opened our services. He was an older man, 88 years old; he had a great deal of energy, always there early. He was deaf in both ears but that didn't stop him, he kept in tune with the entire congregation.
"Once the shooting started I was able to get two people and him into a large storage room in our sanctuary, and he didn't understand what was going on. He didn't hear gunfire, he was confused and he kept thinking that whatever it was we were bothered by somehow stopped. So he left the storage closet and he was shot twice.
"I beat myself up about this because I feel like I could've wrestled him into the ground, I could've shouted at him so he would know not to leave the closet, hold his arms, something. But I know that I would've put myself in jeopardy as well."
According to Perlman, "Mel was a kind old man; he was promoting voting registration at his senior apartment building just the week before, because in services we've been talking about going out to vote." Perlman adds with pain, "Like all others, he did not deserve to die."
He constantly thinks of what could have happened had he done something different, and it pains him that he could not save Wax.
"I go through these scenarios in my mind and I think a lot of the other victims do too, how I could've done more, why didn't I save more people, why did this person choose to do x, y and z, why did they turn the other way. It's part of the trauma and the inner demon, carrying around this type of thing with you. I will never forget Mel and I ask his forgiveness and wish he could've been here celebrating the new year with me."
