Two weeks ago, our kids came into town because they love Birmingham’s Red Mountain Theatre and had never seen the Broadway musical Come From Away. We purposely told them almost nothing about the show. We wanted them to experience it for themselves.

I wasn't prepared for how emotional it would make me.

After seeing an incredible performance Saturday night, Ron and I watched it again on Apple TV after the kids flew home. I had forgotten how deeply this story affects me. I even downloaded the book again, and Ron ordered his own copy. (Side note: the RMT performance was just as good as what we saw on TV!)

But as September 11 approached, I realized there was something else about this story that I couldn't shake.



It was making me think about the importance of remembering.

Come From Away tells the remarkable true story of what happened when U.S. airspace closed on September 11, 2001, and 38 planes carrying approximately 7,000 people from around the world were diverted to the tiny town of Gander, Newfoundland.

Think about that for a moment.

Thousands of strangers.

Different countries. Different languages. Different religions. Different cultures, diets,

fears and needs.

And in the midst of an unimaginable tragedy, the people of Gander essentially asked one question:

What do these people need, and how can we help?

They fed them. Housed them. Found medicine for them. Cared for their animals. Figured out dietary restrictions. Found translators. Opened their schools, churches, community centers and homes.

They didn't ask whether these strangers believed what they believed.

They didn't need them to look like them, worship like them, speak like them or come from the same place.

They saw people who needed help.

And they helped.

Maybe because I spend so much of my life thinking about Holocaust education, I couldn't stop thinking about that simple human choice.

The histories are, of course, profoundly different. But both remind us why remembering history matters.

When we teach the Holocaust, we study unimaginable cruelty and loss. We study what happened when human beings were reduced to labels and categories, when propaganda and misinformation flourished, when "us" and "them" became more powerful than our shared humanity.

But we also remember the people who made another choice.

The rescuers.

The neighbors who hid someone. The people who shared food. The families who opened a door. The resisters who offered false visas. The strangers who risked everything for someone they had been told was different, dangerous or undeserving.

They remind us that even in history's darkest moments, there were people who looked at another human being and thought:

You need help. What can I do?

This is why remembering matters.

History is not simply a collection of events that happened to other people in another time. It is a record of human choices.

And if we forget those choices, both the terrible ones and the extraordinary ones, we lose something we desperately need.

I think that is why Come From Away took me back so powerfully to September 11, 2001.

I remember the fear. I remember the grief and uncertainty.

But I remember something so much more important.

I remember how we checked on one another. How strangers helped strangers. How we called people just to make sure they were okay. How people lined up to give blood. How communities gathered. How, for a little while, the things that divided us seemed so much smaller than the humanity we shared.

We were more together than we were apart.

I miss that.

And on this September 11, perhaps what I want most is simply to remember it.

Not to romanticize a terrible moment in our history. Not to forget the lives that were lost, the families forever changed, or everything complicated that followed.

But to remember what human beings were capable of in response to it. To know what we are capable of today.

Because remembering history isn't only about making sure we never forget what happened.

It is about remembering what happened next.

Who turned away.

Who stepped forward.

Who saw an outsider.

Who saw a human being.

Who asked, "Is this my problem?"

And who simply asked, "How can I help?"

Those are questions at the heart of Holocaust education. And twenty-five years after September 11, I think they are questions worth exploring again.

I don't know how we get that feeling of togetherness back.

But I do believe remembering is a place to begin.

Remembering Gander.

Remembering the rescuers.

Remembering the strangers who showed up for strangers.

Remembering September 11, when, in the midst of our fear and grief, we seemed to understand that we needed one another.

Maybe history's greatest gift is not simply telling us where we have been.

Maybe it is reminding us of who we are capable of being.

I want to remember that.

If you haven't seen Come From Away, watch it on Apple TV or, even better, go see the extraordinary production at Red Mountain Theatre (it is there until September 20).

Then just sit with it for a while.

And remember.