Computers are a blessing when they work—except when they don’t. They have changed our lives in ways our grandparents never could have imagined. With AI I can create things in minutes that would have taken me hours, even things I could never have done by myself. Think about this which we take for granted now: I can sit at my desk and send a message to someone on the other side of the world, and within seconds that person responds. Technology collapses distance.
But today, on Shabbat Shuva, the Sabbath of Repentance and Return… the Shabbat that sits between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur… the Shabbat that follows the 25th anniversary of 9/11… I want to tell you a story about a message sent across a very different kind of distance. Not from one side of the world to the other. But a message sent from a young woman to her parents—not from Atlanta to Europe or Israel, but from the next world—Olam Haba, where we will all go when we die, Gd willing—to this world.
Her name was Ann Nelson, from Stanley, North Dakota—a tiny town halfway between Minot and Williston. She left home after high school, went east for college, earned her MBA, and in early 2001 she called her parents with breathless excitement: she had landed a job as a bond trader at Cantor Fitzgerald.
We know the rest of that story. Cantor Fitzgerald occupied the 104th floor of the World Trade Center. On 9/11, almost everyone in that office perished. Ann’s body was never found. But among the few personal items recovered was her laptop, which was returned to her parents.
They were so grateful to have something from their daughter, but couldn’t bear to touch it. 1st of all, they didn’t know how to use a computer—remember this was 2001 and the state of computer knowledge. Besides, the pain was too raw.
Months later, 2 students from Ann’s art class she was taking visited and offered to teach Mrs. Nelson how to use the computer. Slowly, tentatively, she learned. At 1st she played solitaire and hearts—games she had once played with Ann. It made her feel—if only for a moment—that her daughter was sitting beside her again.
One day, as she turned on the computer, she noticed on the Desktop screen a file: “My Top 100.” She assumed it was music. She clicked. It wasn’t music. It was a list—a list of Ann’s dreams, her goals, her hopes for her life. Some she had achieved. Most she never got the chance to.
That night, her parents sat together in front of the glowing screen. As they read, they felt as though their daughter had returned to them—speaking to them, guiding them, reminding them who she was.
Let me share some of her list with you.
1. Watch my health.
2. Be a good friend.
4. Keep in touch with the people I love. Then came:
5. Make a quilt.
When she saw that one, Mrs. Nelson wept, for she was the one who had taught her daughter how to quilt, and she remembered how much she used to love it when they worked on a quilting project together. It made them feel close. Then:
6. Visit Nepal.
“Nepal? Where’s Nepal?” the parents said to themselves. And why would anyone from Stanley, North Dakota, want to visit Nepal? When they saw that item on their daughter’s list of things she planned to do, they feared that perhaps she had outgrown them and their little provincial town. And then, they saw the next item on their daughter’s list, which was:
7. Buy a home in North Dakota.
At this point her father cried, for it meant that their daughter dreamed of someday coming back home.
The list continued with dreams big and small:
10. Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.
11. Never be ashamed of who I am and where I come from.
When they read that one, both parents smiled, because Ann had been in lots of places where being a country bumpkin from North Dakota was not the biggest honor. She had gone to fancy colleges and worked in one of the most prestigious offices in NYC, but she always had pride in who she was and where she came from.
12. Be the kind of person my parents will be proud of.
What parent wouldn’t cry reading that?
23. Spend more time with my family.
24. Remember birthdays!!!!
When they saw that, Ann’s parents smiled because Ann was always big on birthdays—hers and others too. She would celebrate her birthday—not for a day but for a week—because her father’s birthday came soon after… “She would have been 33 today,” Mrs. Nelson whispered, as she wiped away a tear.
35. The last one on the list: Learn about wine.
Ann had been scheduled to attend a wine-tasting on the evening of September 11th. She never made it! The list simply stopped.
The Nelsons say that they love to read this list often. It’s their daughter’s voice, her values, her heart. “She didn’t have fancy cars or luxuries,” they said. “But if you look at this list, you can see who she was.”
And so, still, every few days, in a small house in a small town halfway between Minot and Williston, a light goes on. A laptop screen glows. And 2 grieving parents click on a file called, “My Top 100”—a message from their daughter from Olam Haba (the World to Come).
I share this story with you today because it has 3 lessons for Shabbat Shuva (The Sabbath of Repentance and Return).
#1. All of us ought to make a list of the things we want to do in this life, and all the places we want to visit, just as she did.
What do you want to experience? Do you want to visit Israel? Write a book? Swim in both oceans? See the Alps? Learn a language? The Talmud (Kiddushin 66b) teaches us something surprising. When we stand before Gd in the Next World, one of the questions He asks is: “I created so many pleasures, so much beauty—fruit, mountains, oceans, sunsets—and you ignored many of them? Why did you not take the time to enjoy My world that I gave you?”
So, my friends, make a list. Don’t be embarrassed. Life is a gift. Pleasure is a gift. Gratitude is a mitzvah. So, think big!
#2. Ask not only what you want to do in your life—but what you want to do with your life. Ann’s list wasn’t only about travel and hobbies. It was about character, kindness, growth, generosity.
On this Shabbat before Yom Kippur, I ask you, what do you want your life to stand for? What causes matter to you? What legacy do you want to leave? What mitzvot do you want to deepen? Whom do you want to lift up? Make that list too.
#3. Remember that Ann never finished her list. It only went up to #35, and she never had time to live most her dreams because on 9/11, her life—and her plans—were cut off.
And so #3, the final lesson, is this: All we have is today. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. Perhaps that’s why the Musaf service on the High Holy Days ends with one word repeated again and again: Hayom (Today). Use today wisely. Use today fully.
A final story—a legend: Satan once gathered his demons and said, “We’re failing. People aren’t sinning as much as they used to. What can we do?”
One demon said, “I’ll tell people there is no Gd.” Satan shook his head. “People aren’t fools. They see the world’s complexity.”
A 2nd demon said, “I’ll tell people Gd exists, but He didn’t give the Torah.” Satan sighed. “People read the Torah. They see its wisdom.”
A 3rd demon said, “My strategy always works. I’ll tell people: There is a Gd. He gave the Torah. Mitzvot matter. But… what’s the rush? Do it tomorrow.”
When Satan heard that, he smiled.
My friends, on this Shabbat Shuva—the Shabbat of Repentance and Return—let’s refuse to fall for that 3rd demon’s trick. On this 25th anniversary, let us learn from 9/11 and Ann Nelson—from her unfinished list, from her unfulfilled dreams—from her message sent from Olam Haba (the Next World) to Olam Hazeh (This World)… Let us learn that hayom (today) is the only day we have for sure, and so may we live in this New Year 5787 wisely and well. Amen!
