September 11, 2025|י"ח אלול ה' אלפים תשפ"ה The Assassination of Charlie Kirk By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

I was reflecting on the shocking assassination of Charlie Kirk today, on September 11 – a date already etched forever in the American consciousness as a day when evil struck with the destruction of the World Trade Center and the murder of nearly 3,000 innocent souls. On that day, Al Qaeda terrorists, driven by an extremist worldview, could not engage in dialogue or defend their beliefs in open debate. They turned instead to unspeakable violence.

Of course, yesterday’s tragedy is not the same. The assassination of Charlie Kirk was not an act of foreign terror but, it seems, an act of domestic violence – likely motivated by opposition to his passionate political views. Yet both events, though very different in scope and nature, remind us of the same chilling truth: when words fail, when dialogue is abandoned, when hatred overwhelms our ability to speak and to listen, violence fills the vacuum.

Rav Yisrael Meir Lau comments on the very first murder in history, the killing of Hevel by Kayin. The Torah tells us:
“And Kayin said to Hevel his brother, and it came to pass when they were in the field that Kayin rose up against Hevel his brother and killed him.” (Bereishit 4:8)

But what did Kayin say to Hevel? The Torah doesn’t tell us. Our sages suggest different theories, but Rav Lau points out that perhaps the Torah is teaching us something deeper: there was no real dialogue at all. Cain’s words may have been empty, trivial, just a pretext to lure his brother into the field. As Rav Lau wrote, אם אין הידברות יש אלימות – when there are no real words, when there is no dialogue, violence takes over. Hands begin to speak where mouths remain silent.

That message is as true today as it was then. When we can no longer sit across from those with whom we disagree, when hatred silences conversation, destruction is the outcome. We saw this frighteningly realized yesterday with the assassination of Charlie Kirk.

I feel deeply that our country is truly broken. And I fear what the outcome of this murder will be. Because now we as a society stand at a crossroads. There are two paths forward. One is the dangerous path, where tragedies like this shift the boundaries of acceptable behavior, where violence becomes normalized as a tactic whenever one feels their side is losing, where extremists set the tone. But there is another path.

The Rambam writes that the shofar is like an alarm, shaking us from our spiritual slumber. Sometimes it takes a piercing blast to awaken us from complacency. Perhaps this tragedy can be that wake-up call – that violent and vitriolic speech is not harmless, that it poisons society, and that silence in the face of it is not an option.

As we approach the Yamim Nora’im, let us hear the shofar’s call not only as individuals but as a society. Let us recommit to building a culture of dialogue, respect, and peace, where disagreements do not end in hatred, and hatred does not end in bloodshed. In this way, we can begin to do our part in לתקן עולם במלכות ש-די – to heal and repair our broken world under the sovereignty of God.