This past week our airways have been filled with stories and remembrances of the tragedy of September 11, 2001. At the time, I had a new grandchild, just 11 days old. My youngest daughter was two weeks into her semester abroad in Spain. My youngest son was barely settled into his dorm at Pacific University. So many new adventures were just starting for our family and then everything changed. Fear combined with the need to hold one another close – and yet we were all spread out across the world it seemed- and there was no way to bridge the gap. The sky was quiet. No planes were flying. Rumors of new threats were moving faster than any jet plane could. It was a time most people over 25 have at least some recollections of. Those who are younger only know the stories.
During the past week I have learned many new details about the horrific tragedy. At the time there was a lot happening that the public was not aware of. Most of us became aware that something was going on after the first plane struck the north tower. The government and the military had been monitoring events for at least half an hour. Hi-jackings. Brutal murders of onboard airline staff and passengers who tried to help. Frantic air traffic controllers. Terrified passengers on board planes making calls to whoever would answer. There was desperation, horror and helplessness as decision makers tried to figure out what to do that would not further jeopardize the passengers. And then it was too late.
There were of course many heroes that day. We cannot forget the passengers on Flight 93 that staged a rebellion and managed to divert their hi-jacked flight from its route toward Washington D.C. They died saving our national capital and the people who would have died if the flight had hit its target. There are the first responders, many of whom died from injuries sustained that day or years later from the effects of breathing the polluted air as they worked to save victims and prevent fires from spreading. Then there are the reporters and the photographers who chronicled events and the thousands of ordinary people who headed into the disaster zones with assistance of every kind imaginable. There was an outpouring of love along with grief.
I looked back in my files and found the reflection that I wrote on a Sunday 12 days after the attack. They were words that I could have written today, except the readings for that Sunday were different. It was September 23, 2001, and I was pondering what the response of our nation should be, could be and eventually would be. I also asked a second question. Why do they hate us? Just two weeks later as the parish I was serving began to celebrate its patron Saint, Francis of Assisi, during the 125th Anniversary Year of the parish, we were made aware of our nation’s response. Our military began bombing Afghanistan in what would be the first day of the longest war in US history. In Afghanistan it was Monday, October 7. At home it was still Sunday, October 6. The Lord’s Day. The Feast of the Patron Saint of Peacemakers.
That second question I asked has many answers but none that our nation has wanted to confront. Why do they hate us? It disturbed some people to think about it. The tragedy was so horrific it was not possible to think that anything our nation had done could have precipitated the attack. The attackers were seen as pure evil – and as that sentiment spread – anyone who looked like, or whose name sounded like, those terrorists in any way, became a target for violence. Violence begets violence.
Twenty years later, I wonder what we accomplished. In one article deriding the end of the war in Afghanistan the author stated that the war began with a tragic loss for the United States and a win for terrorists, and that it ended the same way. Winners and Losers. In the ensuing years more than two trillion dollars were spent meaning that some people got very rich indeed (the military industrial complex) and many people, generally poor to begin with, lost their livelihoods and their own lives or the lives of their family members. Those who died include the young soldiers who enlisted in our voluntary military as a way of getting ahead in their lives, as well as the Afghans who found themselves in the crossfire. War is always like that. The poor serve and die, while the wealthy get wealthier. And terrorists did not disappear. Instead, they morphed from foreign attackers to domestic ones. Violence it seems is addictive.
Twenty years ago, we pondered what would happen if we shifted national policies away from efforts to accumulate more and more of the world’s goods for ourselves, working instead to see that people everywhere had what they needed to survive – food, clean water, medical care, and the like. I cringe when I hear about all the schools the military built in Afghanistan because our nation has a history of using education to change or enculturate others. It is not a surprise that the newly built schools kept being destroyed. Think of the issues surrounding the school system built to re-educate Native American Children. Culture belongs to communities. Water, food, and medical care can help people to survive long enough to change and grow. This is as true for people living in America as it is for people overseas. Violence grows from violence whether it is physical as in war, or more subtle as in the violence of poverty and hunger. And violence is profitable.
Our readings this week are not easy, but they validate the hard work of peacemaking, bridge building across cultures, and caring for people no matter who they are. In the second reading from the Epistle of James (James 2:14-16) we see these words: “What good is it, my brothers and sisters if someone says they have faith but does not have works? If a brother or sister has nothing to wear and has no food for the day, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, keep warm, and eat well,’ but you do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it? So also, faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” The followers of Jesus must be active doers of what is good. Faith alone is not enough. To leave violence behind we must embrace the work of peace.
The Gospel from Mark 8:27-35 is the passage where Jesus asks Peter who people say that he is. And then, after Jesus tells the disciples that he will be rejected and put to death, when Peter says no that cannot be, Jesus rebukes Peter before saying: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me.” We were never promised an easy path. Choosing to work for peace, to see that all people are cared for regardless of their tribe, ethnicity, religion, color, or politics is not easy. We are as a nation more divided today than at any time since the civil war. We need peacemakers, bridge builders, and caretakers at home and abroad. We who have been baptized must strive to live out the promises we made: Faith and works – expressed with love and hope. The first steps are always the hardest.
Peace be with us all.
Cross at the World Trade Center Site…