An Act of God: A Tale of Two Flights

“Act of God” is a legal term—a phrase designed for insurance claims. It refers to the uncontrollable: an earthquake, a lightning strike, a rogue wave. It describes events no human willed and no person can be sued for. It is also, perhaps, the most theologically dishonest phrase in the English language.

On January 15, 2009, US Airways Flight 1549 struck a flock of Canada geese seconds after takeoff from LaGuardia, causing loss of thrust in both engines over New York City. The birds did nothing wrong; they were simply being birds. The plane landed safely in the Hudson River, and all 155 people aboard survived in what was swiftly dubbed the “Miracle on the Hudson.”

When the National Transportation Safety Board concluded its investigation, it listed the official cause as a bird strike. To the insurance companies, that made it an act of God—an event beyond human control. But the real miracle was a partnership. The geese supplied the crisis; Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger, his crew, and the local ferry captains supplied the salvation. Together, they transformed an act of nature into a miracle of human agency.

There is another flight.

On September 30, flydubai Flight 1073 left the Emirates for Tel Aviv carrying 174 souls. High over Jordan, the co-pilot feigned stepping away to pray. Instead, he grabbed the emergency axe from the cockpit, attacked the captain, and jammed the flight controls to send the jet plunging 14,000 feet in under thirty seconds. Bleeding and fighting for his life, the captain triggered the hijack alert and, with his remaining strength, unlocked the armored cockpit door so passengers could breach the deck, subdue the attacker, and pull the aircraft out of its dive.

The attacker was an Omani co-pilot radicalized by hatred to kill Jews. That was the god he sought to serve—a deity constructed from radicalism, militancy, and fanatical ideology. His act was not a natural disaster; it was the deliberate weaponization of faith. He used an axe not to defend against an emergency, but to create one.

To be clear, no faith is immune to extremism. History shows us Catholic zealots who targeted doctors, and Jewish extremists like Yigal Amir and Baruch Goldstein who carried out murder in the name of their beliefs. No religion is immune to fanaticism.

Islam teaches peace, goodness, and respect for creation. Yet a profound double standard remains: when extremism emerges elsewhere, religious and civic leaders are quick to condemn it. But when radical Islamist violence targets Jews, the response is too often muted, softened by calls to “see both sides” or dismissed with slogans like “hurt people hurt people.”

Why the deafening silence after an attack this brazen? How can peaceful, dedicated Muslims allow fanatics to hijack their faith without louder, global condemnation? And to those watching from the sidelines with quiet detachment: do not assume the target will always be Jews. History teaches that extremist violence never stops with its first enemy; eventually, it comes for everyone who refuses to bow to it.

Over the Hudson and over the Jordan, two very different events occurred. A bird that cannot choose creates an act of God. A radicalized man who chooses murder acts on behalf of a perverted ideology—a false god that decent people of every faith must openly reject.

God was on board Flight 1073. God was not in the axe and not in the clouds. God was in row 12, running toward the cockpit.

The passengers who charged the flight deck, restrained the attacker, and saved the captain refused to be passive participants in their own destruction. They were the answer to a prayer no one had time to voice.

Judaism does not run from mortality. Our tradition teaches us to confront death honestly—to wear white on Yom Kippur like a burial shroud, to ask who shall live and who shall die, and to number our days so we may gain a heart of wisdom. To accept that we will one day die is a sane, peaceful realization.

Radical Islam does the opposite: it does not accept death; it recruits for it. It arranges death for its enemies and frames slaughter as righteousness. We can accept mortality without accepting a world that normalizes targeted violence and calls for the death of others for the crime of believing differently.

Declining to name jihadism for what it is isn’t courteousness—it is cowardice wearing civility’s coat. The only moral answer to deliberate terror is to name it, shun it, and stand alongside those who run toward the cockpit. That is the best way to welcome God in flight.