Reflections on 9/11

Every year since Sept. 11, 2001, I have worked on a special publication to commemorate the day—part of my job at newspapers, magazine and now online business news. I have to say, this year, despite it being the 10th anniversary, I wasn’t sure exactly what else to say, let alone compiling multiple stories into a special edition. So I was pleasantly surprised when others took up the thinking for me. The memorial edition opened with a picture (taken hours earlier on Friday) of empty chairs in Manhattan’s Bryant Park, one for each of the 2,753 people who died in the attacks. And then much of the rest of the focus was on the rebuilding that has been done in the past decade.

As a journalist and as an American, I think memorializing this day is important. As a Christian, I think the lesson of 9/11 requires a more personal journey, one that I’m not completely comfortable taking because I think that it means exploring violent death: first, what it means for the victims and their families, and second, how we respond.

In Patricia’s sermon this morning, the biggest response was stated: as Christians, we are required to forgive. I have nothing to add to that—it’s as plain to me as my duty to respect life, even when my heart isn’t right about a particular circumstance.

To add to the conversation, I think the violent deaths of nearly 3,000 on 9/11 should serve as a flashing neon sign for every violent death that occurs every day. Single deaths in dark alleys and seedy hotel rooms. Deaths in wars—near and far. The cutting short of life, the theft of life of those who possessed it and those who loved them. It leaves an imprint that is so deep and permanent I think it might as well be a brand seared into the flesh of survivors.

Violent death is different from what happens when someone is taken by accident or untimely cause like a terminal disease. Early is still sudden death, with no chance to say good-bye, not one last “I love you” or one last, “you know I didn’t mean that.” Early death is still terrible and there never seems to be a reason why. But with violent death, there is a very clear reason why: Hatred.

And fighting against violent death, I think, should also be very clear:
Where we have suffered loss, we can use that experience to practice deep compassion for others who have suffered loss—around the corner and around the world. If we know what it means to lose someone we love to violence and hatred, we cannot ignore the fact that we know what that means to every other single person on the planet. Every mother, child, husband, wife, brother, sister or friend who has lost someone to violent death.

Like we all prayed this morning: “O God, the Lord of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth; deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”