9-11 -- A 24 Year Memory

(I have posted this reflection before but have now updated the timeline.)

September 11, 2001 – Today: A 24 Year Memory

As I am certain everyone is aware, today is the 24th anniversary of the destruction of the World Trade Center – September 11, 2001 – a day whose emblazoned infamy is permanently engraved in the minds and hearts of most every member of the human family around the globe. My memories of that day and any follow-up thoughts and ideas are as fresh in my minds as they would be had they happened yesterday. Regarding 9-11, time has stood still.

If you are old enough to remember that fateful day, you most assuredly remember where you were. You may forget your mother’s birthday or your own anniversary, but you don’t usually forget the particulars of a world-wide catastrophe. I remember where I was that day. I would like to tell you about that and then relate it to two excerpts from Judeo-Christian liturgical readings.

I was sitting at the kitchen table in the home of my local friend A in Canberra, Australia. Canberra is the national capital of Australia. A few days prior I had finished a six city Australian speaking tour that extended from Brisbane (Queensland) to Melbourne (Victoria) and at that point I was spending a few days visiting with my friend A, just relaxing and regrouping before heading to Sydney to board that 415-seat sardine can to head back across the Pacific Pond to Los Angeles. A was planning on driving me to Sydney a couple of days hence. A and her friend T had both worked for the Australian government for years and they thought I might like a royal tour – and I did! The weather was gorgeous, and I saw more than the average tourist. I got fabulous pictures too! That was September 11 (Canberra time) and we were going to complete the tour the following day.

Earlier that evening we had had dinner at T’s house and then went back to A’s place. A asked me if I would mind being alone for a bit because she and T wanted to go out for a while. I said that was fine. Secretly I was glad she suggested it because I needed some down time myself. It was close to midnight Canberra time. (Recall that we hear about the events of that fateful day in New York time – which is 15 hours behind of Canberra time, so it was just shy of being September 12th when A and T left me by myself.) I put on my nightshirt, plugged in my computer, sat myself down at the kitchen table, stuck my feet up on another chair, and started sorting my email. My computer Messenger system was on.

Four people (in the USA) messaged me shortly after the events began to unfold. I have saved all four IM conversations but in all these intervening years, I have only looked at them once. Pain and memories, I suppose. The first person asked if I knew what had just happened. I did not. She then asked if I had the TV on. I did not. She said I should turn it on. I did.

My IM friends and I talked for a few minutes. Then I shifted to the TV and watched until about 3:00 am. A was not back yet, so I went to bed. When I got up a few hours later, A and T were standing in the living room asking me if I knew what had happened. The three of us spent the day in front of the TV. The national and international shots were the same as seen by the rest of the world. The Australian component of the news was about the Australians who had been in New York at the time and, of course, many of them had died. The three of us were all in a state of disbelief for the rest of the day – and beyond.

The American Embassy – about a mile from A’s house – was on total lock-down. [The whole Australian government was shut down too. Needless to say, we never did do that second government sightseeing day.] I just wanted to call the American Embassy and say, “I’m here! I’m here! Poor little waif all alone in a foreign land!” Of course, I didn’t call but calling was a primal instinct. Maybe I had just wanted to hear an American voice reassuring a waif like myself.

What does one feel? What would I have felt had I been on American soil when that tragedy struck? Fear? Anger? Horror? Numbness? Emptyness? All of those? None of those? I don’t know. Oh, I was safe – physically very safe – in Australia. But something inside me had been wrenched out. My homeland had been attacked. And I thought about my fellow countrymen and women who couldn’t be so certain of their physical safety. The unknown had surely engulfed all of us.

I began wondering how answers to this confused narrative might be approached in Judeo-Christian scripture readings. One particular selection from the Book of Sirach seemed to embody the inner turmoil of a desperate people under siege. [Some of you may find Sirach in the Apocryphal section of your Bible – between the Old Testament and the New Testament.] I have copied these few lines below.

Wrath and anger are hateful things,

yet the sinner hugs them tight.

The vengeful will suffer the LORD’s vengeance,

for he remembers their sins in detail.

Forgive your neighbor’s injustice;

then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.

Could anyone nourish anger against another

and expect healing from the LORD?

Could anyone refuse mercy to another like himself,

can he seek pardon for his own sins?

Reading this passage a number of times, I kept thinking of the events of 9-11. Were we filled with wrath and anger – emotions we just wanted to hug – or were we just too numb to absorb the impact of what had happened? (I do believe that most of us were too numb!) But, look at that fifth line down: “Forgive your neighbor’s injustice.” Here is where we can come out of our catatonic state and face our own individual reactions to the 9-11 tragedy. I suspect there are very few people who would accept the bombers’ actions as acceptable. We don’t have to accept their actions, but we do have to accept our own re-actions to their actions. Can we accept the evil actions of those terrorists as actions to be forgiven because those terrorists are/were also God’s children? We must forgive our neighbor! We cannot dictate to God who or what must be forgiven. We can only focus on what is in our own heart. And, we must forgive – not forgive the actions but forgive the persons committing those actions and forgive ourselves too for presuming to be God in our attempt to dictate forgiveness.

Fast Forward: Several days later, after affirming and reaffirming that the plane from Sydney to Los Angeles would indeed be taking off, A drove me from Canberra to Sydney International Airport. It is a wonderful place – but I do not recommend it for a two-day holiday, which it was for me for the next 40 or so hours. (The scheduled flight could not take off because Los Angeles was closed to air traffic.) A stayed with me for a while but she had to get back to Canberra. The Sydney airport had plenty of free online kiosks, good food, free bottles of water, clean restrooms, and so forth. It was also very safe as it seemed like every third person was security.

I need to explain the most meaningful and most pertinent event of that entire Sydney venture.

At the end of the first night, I went up to the airport chapel. I was tired and I just wanted to rest, away from the standard airport clamor. The chapel was divided, one side being Muslim and the other side being Christian.

As I sat there wandering in and out of a sleep state, my glasses fell to the floor. A Muslim man about my age walked into the chapel. He picked up my glasses and handed them to me. I thanked him – and thus began one of the most poignant conversations from the heart that I have ever experienced.

He seemed to have recognized that I am an American. His eyes were almost in tears. He had been in Australia for about 20 years and although he had a slight accent, his English was excellent. He said, “I am so sorry! These people do not understand the message of the prophet. This is not what the prophet teaches. We are all one! What is mine is yours. What do you need? Your pain is my pain. If you are hurt, then I too am hurt. Do you need food? Money? A place to stay? We are all one! What’s mine is yours.” This was not a “come-on” from him. He was totally sincere as he held back his tears. I could hear the spiritual connection in his words. He repeated several times about the bombers not understanding the message of the prophet. He also repeated several times about how we are all one, sharing each other’s pain and giving to each other as each needs. He also asked me several times what I needed. I assured him I needed nothing. At the same time, without saying it, I was eternally grateful for the human perspective he had given me. I too was almost in tears.

Those of us waiting for that flight back to Los Angeles easily bonded. We were strangers, but we all knew each other. We talked freely and we helped each other, both by word and deed. We were clearly many colors and many ethnicities, many ages and many occupations. But we were all family and we all knew it and we were all going home – together.

By the second night, the plane from Sydney to LAX was cleared for landing in Los Angeles and was getting ready for takeoff from Sydney. Because of the newly instigated anti-terrorist regulations, boarding was a very long and tedious process. But, 15 hours after takeoff, as that plane touched down at LAX, everyone on board burst out in a mad round of applause. We had made it home. I went through customs and the agent examined my passport. Handing it back to me, the agent smiled warmly and said, “Welcome home!” And at that point, I did burst out in tears.

I was grateful to be home, but I was also grateful for the very valuable lessons I had learned about the goodness and oneness of humanity and about the deeper understanding I had gained about the power of forgiveness.

Yes, the events of 9-11 were horrific. But, we humans are indeed all one. And, the power of forgiveness will overcome all the horrendousness of anything that can happen.

Look at these few lines from the Christian gospel reading from Matthew. (Keep in mind that seven was a perfect – or magical – number for the Jews.)

Peter approached Jesus and asked him,

“Lord, if my brother sins against me,

how often must I forgive?

As many as seven times?”

Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.

Do we forgive? Who or what do we forgive – either as solitary persons or as a group or a country?

Forgive them, God, from my heart to all eternity!

Rev Dr Roberta M Meehan

 
 
 
'Roberta Meehan' via Ecumene-21 
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Thu, Sep 11 at 10:31 AM
 
 
(I have posted this reflection before.)

September 11, 2001 – Yesterday: A 20 Year Memory
As I am certain everyone is aware, this Saturday is the 20th anniversary of the destruction of the World Trade Center – September 11, 2001 – a day whose emblazoned infamy is permanently engraved in the minds and hearts of most every member of the human family around the globe. My memories of that day and any follow-up thoughts and ideas are as fresh in my minds as they would be had they happened yesterday. Regarding 9-11, time has stood still.

If you are old enough to remember that fateful day, you most assuredly remember where you were. You may forget your mother’s birthday or your own anniversary, but you don’t usually forget the particulars of a world-wide catastrophe. I remember where I was that day. I would like to tell you about that and then relate it to two excerpts from Judeo-Christian liturgical readings.

I was sitting at the kitchen table in the home of my local friend A in Canberra, Australia. Canberra is the national capital of Australia. A few days prior I had finished a six city Australian speaking tour that extended from Brisbane (Queensland) to Melbourne (Victoria) and at that point I was spending a few days visiting with my friend A, just relaxing and regrouping before heading to Sydney to board that 415-seat sardine can to head back across the Pacific Pond to Los Angeles. A was planning on driving me to Sydney a couple of days hence. A and her friend T had both worked for the Australian government for years and they thought I might like a royal tour – and I did! The weather was gorgeous, and I saw more than the average tourist. I got fabulous pictures too! That was September 11 (Canberra time) and we were going to complete the tour the following day.

Earlier that evening we had had dinner at T’s house and then went back to A’s place. A asked me if I would mind being alone for a bit because she and T wanted to go out for a while. I said that was fine. Secretly I was glad she suggested it because I needed some down time myself. It was close to midnight Canberra time. (Recall that we hear about the events of that fateful day in New York time – which is 15 hours behind of Canberra time, so it was just shy of being September 12th when A and T left me by myself.) I put on my nightshirt, plugged in my computer, sat myself down at the kitchen table, stuck my feet up on another chair, and started sorting my email. My computer Messenger system was on.

Four people (in the USA) messaged me shortly after the events began to unfold. I have saved all four IM conversations but in all these intervening years, I have only looked at them once. Pain and memories, I suppose. The first person asked if I knew what had just happened. I did not. She then asked if I had the TV on. I did not. She said I should turn it on. I did.

My IM friends and I talked for a few minutes. Then I shifted to the TV and watched until about 3:00 am. A was not back yet, so I went to bed. When I got up a few hours later, A and T were standing in the living room asking me if I knew what had happened. The three of us spent the day in front of the TV. The national and international shots were the same as seen by the rest of the world. The Australian component of the news was about the Australians who had been in New York at the time and, of course, many of them had died. The three of us were all in a state of disbelief for the rest of the day – and beyond.

The American Embassy – about a mile from A’s house – was on total lock-down. [The whole Australian government was shut down too. Needless to say, we never did do that second government sightseeing day.] I just wanted to call the American Embassy and say, “I’m here! I’m here! Poor little waif all alone in a foreign land!” Of course, I didn’t call but calling was a primal instinct. Maybe I had just wanted to hear an American voice reassuring a waif like myself.

What does one feel? What would I have felt had I been on American soil when that tragedy struck? Fear? Anger? Horror? Numbness? Emptyness? All of those? None of those? I don’t know. Oh, I was safe – physically very safe – in Australia. But something inside me had been wrenched out. My homeland had been attacked. And I thought about my fellow countrymen and women who couldn’t be so certain of their physical safety. The unknown had surely engulfed all of us.

I began wondering how answers to this confused narrative might be approached in Judeo-Christian scripture readings. One particular selection from the Book of Sirach seemed to embody the inner turmoil of a desperate people under siege. [Some of you may find Sirach in the Apocryphal section of your Bible – between the Old Testament and the New Testament.] I have copied these few lines below.

Wrath and anger are hateful things,

yet the sinner hugs them tight.

The vengeful will suffer the LORD’s vengeance,

for he remembers their sins in detail.

Forgive your neighbor’s injustice;

then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.

Could anyone nourish anger against another

and expect healing from the LORD?

Could anyone refuse mercy to another like himself,

can he seek pardon for his own sins?

Reading this passage a number of times, I kept thinking of the events of 9-11. Were we filled with wrath and anger – emotions we just wanted to hug – or were we just too numb to absorb the impact of what had happened? (I do believe that most of us were too numb!) But, look at that fifth line down: “Forgive your neighbor’s injustice.” Here is where we can come out of our catatonic state and face our own individual reactions to the 9-11 tragedy. I suspect there are very few people who would accept the bombers’ actions as acceptable. We don’t have to accept their actions, but we do have to accept our own re-actions to their actions. Can we accept the evil actions of those terrorists as actions to be forgiven because those terrorists are/were also God’s children? We must forgive our neighbor! We cannot dictate to God who or what must be forgiven. We can only focus on what is in our own heart. And, we must forgive – not forgive the actions but forgive the persons committing those actions and forgive ourselves too for presuming to be God in our attempt to dictate forgiveness.

Fast Forward: Several days later, after affirming and reaffirming that the plane from Sydney to Los Angeles would indeed be taking off, A drove me from Canberra to Sydney International Airport. It is a wonderful place – but I do not recommend it for a two-day holiday, which it was for me for the next 40 or so hours. (The scheduled flight could not take off because Los Angeles was closed to air traffic.) A stayed with me for a while but she had to get back to Canberra. The Sydney airport had plenty of free online kiosks, good food, free bottles of water, clean restrooms, and so forth. It was also very safe as it seemed like every third person was security.

I need to explain the most meaningful and most pertinent event of that entire Sydney venture.

At the end of the first night, I went up to the airport chapel. I was tired and I just wanted to rest, away from the standard airport clamor. The chapel was divided, one side being Muslim and the other side being Christian.

As I sat there wandering in and out of a sleep state, my glasses fell to the floor. A Muslim man about my age walked into the chapel. He picked up my glasses and handed them to me. I thanked him – and thus began one of the most poignant conversations from the heart that I have ever experienced.

He seemed to have recognized that I am an American. His eyes were almost in tears. He had been in Australia for about 20 years and although he had a slight accent, his English was excellent. He said, “I am so sorry! These people do not understand the message of the prophet. This is not what the prophet teaches. We are all one! What is mine is yours. What do you need? Your pain is my pain. If you are hurt, then I too am hurt. Do you need food? Money? A place to stay? We are all one! What’s mine is yours.” This was not a “come-on” from him. He was totally sincere as he held back his tears. I could hear the spiritual connection in his words. He repeated several times about the bombers not understanding the message of the prophet. He also repeated several times about how we are all one, sharing each other’s pain and giving to each other as each needs. He also asked me several times what I needed. I assured him I needed nothing. At the same time, without saying it, I was eternally grateful for the human perspective he had given me. I too was almost in tears.

Those of us waiting for that flight back to Los Angeles easily bonded. We were strangers, but we all knew each other. We talked freely and we helped each other, both by word and deed. We were clearly many colors and many ethnicities, many ages and many occupations. But we were all family and we all knew it and we were all going home – together.

By the second night, the plane from Sydney to LAX was cleared for landing in Los Angeles and was getting ready for takeoff from Sydney. Because of the newly instigated anti-terrorist regulations, boarding was a very long and tedious process. But, 15 hours after takeoff, as that plane touched down at LAX, everyone on board burst out in a mad round of applause. We had made it home. I went through customs and the agent examined my passport. Handing it back to me, the agent smiled warmly and said, “Welcome home!” And at that point, I did burst out in tears.

I was grateful to be home, but I was also grateful for the very valuable lessons I had learned about the goodness and oneness of humanity and about the deeper understanding I had gained about the power of forgiveness.

Yes, the events of 9-11 were horrific. But, we humans are indeed all one. And, the power of forgiveness will overcome all the horrendousness of anything that can happen.

Look at these few lines from the Christian gospel reading from Matthew. (Keep in mind that seven was a perfect – or magical – number for the Jews.)

Peter approached Jesus and asked him,

“Lord, if my brother sins against me,

how often must I forgive?

As many as seven times?”

Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.

Do we forgive? Who or what do we forgive – either as solitary persons or as a group or a country?

Forgive them, God, from my heart to all eternity!

Rev Dr Roberta M Meehan

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'Roberta Meehan' via TheologyandReligion-2 
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Thu, Sep 11 at 10:31 AM
 
 
(I have posted this reflection before.)

September 11, 2001 – Yesterday: A 20 Year Memory
As I am certain everyone is aware, this Saturday is the 20th anniversary of the destruction of the World Trade Center – September 11, 2001 – a day whose emblazoned infamy is permanently engraved in the minds and hearts of most every member of the human family around the globe. My memories of that day and any follow-up thoughts and ideas are as fresh in my minds as they would be had they happened yesterday. Regarding 9-11, time has stood still.

If you are old enough to remember that fateful day, you most assuredly remember where you were. You may forget your mother’s birthday or your own anniversary, but you don’t usually forget the particulars of a world-wide catastrophe. I remember where I was that day. I would like to tell you about that and then relate it to two excerpts from Judeo-Christian liturgical readings.

I was sitting at the kitchen table in the home of my local friend A in Canberra, Australia. Canberra is the national capital of Australia. A few days prior I had finished a six city Australian speaking tour that extended from Brisbane (Queensland) to Melbourne (Victoria) and at that point I was spending a few days visiting with my friend A, just relaxing and regrouping before heading to Sydney to board that 415-seat sardine can to head back across the Pacific Pond to Los Angeles. A was planning on driving me to Sydney a couple of days hence. A and her friend T had both worked for the Australian government for years and they thought I might like a royal tour – and I did! The weather was gorgeous, and I saw more than the average tourist. I got fabulous pictures too! That was September 11 (Canberra time) and we were going to complete the tour the following day.

Earlier that evening we had had dinner at T’s house and then went back to A’s place. A asked me if I would mind being alone for a bit because she and T wanted to go out for a while. I said that was fine. Secretly I was glad she suggested it because I needed some down time myself. It was close to midnight Canberra time. (Recall that we hear about the events of that fateful day in New York time – which is 15 hours behind of Canberra time, so it was just shy of being September 12th when A and T left me by myself.) I put on my nightshirt, plugged in my computer, sat myself down at the kitchen table, stuck my feet up on another chair, and started sorting my email. My computer Messenger system was on.

Four people (in the USA) messaged me shortly after the events began to unfold. I have saved all four IM conversations but in all these intervening years, I have only looked at them once. Pain and memories, I suppose. The first person asked if I knew what had just happened. I did not. She then asked if I had the TV on. I did not. She said I should turn it on. I did.

My IM friends and I talked for a few minutes. Then I shifted to the TV and watched until about 3:00 am. A was not back yet, so I went to bed. When I got up a few hours later, A and T were standing in the living room asking me if I knew what had happened. The three of us spent the day in front of the TV. The national and international shots were the same as seen by the rest of the world. The Australian component of the news was about the Australians who had been in New York at the time and, of course, many of them had died. The three of us were all in a state of disbelief for the rest of the day – and beyond.

The American Embassy – about a mile from A’s house – was on total lock-down. [The whole Australian government was shut down too. Needless to say, we never did do that second government sightseeing day.] I just wanted to call the American Embassy and say, “I’m here! I’m here! Poor little waif all alone in a foreign land!” Of course, I didn’t call but calling was a primal instinct. Maybe I had just wanted to hear an American voice reassuring a waif like myself.

What does one feel? What would I have felt had I been on American soil when that tragedy struck? Fear? Anger? Horror? Numbness? Emptyness? All of those? None of those? I don’t know. Oh, I was safe – physically very safe – in Australia. But something inside me had been wrenched out. My homeland had been attacked. And I thought about my fellow countrymen and women who couldn’t be so certain of their physical safety. The unknown had surely engulfed all of us.

I began wondering how answers to this confused narrative might be approached in Judeo-Christian scripture readings. One particular selection from the Book of Sirach seemed to embody the inner turmoil of a desperate people under siege. [Some of you may find Sirach in the Apocryphal section of your Bible – between the Old Testament and the New Testament.] I have copied these few lines below.

Wrath and anger are hateful things,

yet the sinner hugs them tight.

The vengeful will suffer the LORD’s vengeance,

for he remembers their sins in detail.

Forgive your neighbor’s injustice;

then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.

Could anyone nourish anger against another

and expect healing from the LORD?

Could anyone refuse mercy to another like himself,

can he seek pardon for his own sins?

Reading this passage a number of times, I kept thinking of the events of 9-11. Were we filled with wrath and anger – emotions we just wanted to hug – or were we just too numb to absorb the impact of what had happened? (I do believe that most of us were too numb!) But, look at that fifth line down: “Forgive your neighbor’s injustice.” Here is where we can come out of our catatonic state and face our own individual reactions to the 9-11 tragedy. I suspect there are very few people who would accept the bombers’ actions as acceptable. We don’t have to accept their actions, but we do have to accept our own re-actions to their actions. Can we accept the evil actions of those terrorists as actions to be forgiven because those terrorists are/were also God’s children? We must forgive our neighbor! We cannot dictate to God who or what must be forgiven. We can only focus on what is in our own heart. And, we must forgive – not forgive the actions but forgive the persons committing those actions and forgive ourselves too for presuming to be God in our attempt to dictate forgiveness.

Fast Forward: Several days later, after affirming and reaffirming that the plane from Sydney to Los Angeles would indeed be taking off, A drove me from Canberra to Sydney International Airport. It is a wonderful place – but I do not recommend it for a two-day holiday, which it was for me for the next 40 or so hours. (The scheduled flight could not take off because Los Angeles was closed to air traffic.) A stayed with me for a while but she had to get back to Canberra. The Sydney airport had plenty of free online kiosks, good food, free bottles of water, clean restrooms, and so forth. It was also very safe as it seemed like every third person was security.

I need to explain the most meaningful and most pertinent event of that entire Sydney venture.

At the end of the first night, I went up to the airport chapel. I was tired and I just wanted to rest, away from the standard airport clamor. The chapel was divided, one side being Muslim and the other side being Christian.

As I sat there wandering in and out of a sleep state, my glasses fell to the floor. A Muslim man about my age walked into the chapel. He picked up my glasses and handed them to me. I thanked him – and thus began one of the most poignant conversations from the heart that I have ever experienced.

He seemed to have recognized that I am an American. His eyes were almost in tears. He had been in Australia for about 20 years and although he had a slight accent, his English was excellent. He said, “I am so sorry! These people do not understand the message of the prophet. This is not what the prophet teaches. We are all one! What is mine is yours. What do you need? Your pain is my pain. If you are hurt, then I too am hurt. Do you need food? Money? A place to stay? We are all one! What’s mine is yours.” This was not a “come-on” from him. He was totally sincere as he held back his tears. I could hear the spiritual connection in his words. He repeated several times about the bombers not understanding the message of the prophet. He also repeated several times about how we are all one, sharing each other’s pain and giving to each other as each needs. He also asked me several times what I needed. I assured him I needed nothing. At the same time, without saying it, I was eternally grateful for the human perspective he had given me. I too was almost in tears.

Those of us waiting for that flight back to Los Angeles easily bonded. We were strangers, but we all knew each other. We talked freely and we helped each other, both by word and deed. We were clearly many colors and many ethnicities, many ages and many occupations. But we were all family and we all knew it and we were all going home – together.

By the second night, the plane from Sydney to LAX was cleared for landing in Los Angeles and was getting ready for takeoff from Sydney. Because of the newly instigated anti-terrorist regulations, boarding was a very long and tedious process. But, 15 hours after takeoff, as that plane touched down at LAX, everyone on board burst out in a mad round of applause. We had made it home. I went through customs and the agent examined my passport. Handing it back to me, the agent smiled warmly and said, “Welcome home!” And at that point, I did burst out in tears.

I was grateful to be home, but I was also grateful for the very valuable lessons I had learned about the goodness and oneness of humanity and about the deeper understanding I had gained about the power of forgiveness.

Yes, the events of 9-11 were horrific. But, we humans are indeed all one. And, the power of forgiveness will overcome all the horrendousness of anything that can happen.

Look at these few lines from the Christian gospel reading from Matthew. (Keep in mind that seven was a perfect – or magical – number for the Jews.)

Peter approached Jesus and asked him,

“Lord, if my brother sins against me,

how often must I forgive?

As many as seven times?”

Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.

Do we forgive? Who or what do we forgive – either as solitary persons or as a group or a country?

Forgive them, God, from my heart to all eternity!

Rev Dr Roberta M Meehan

--
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'Roberta Meehan' via Scripture Alive 
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Thu, Sep 11 at 10:31 AM
 
 
(I have posted this reflection before.)

September 11, 2001 – Yesterday: A 20 Year Memory
As I am certain everyone is aware, this Saturday is the 20th anniversary of the destruction of the World Trade Center – September 11, 2001 – a day whose emblazoned infamy is permanently engraved in the minds and hearts of most every member of the human family around the globe. My memories of that day and any follow-up thoughts and ideas are as fresh in my minds as they would be had they happened yesterday. Regarding 9-11, time has stood still.

If you are old enough to remember that fateful day, you most assuredly remember where you were. You may forget your mother’s birthday or your own anniversary, but you don’t usually forget the particulars of a world-wide catastrophe. I remember where I was that day. I would like to tell you about that and then relate it to two excerpts from Judeo-Christian liturgical readings.

I was sitting at the kitchen table in the home of my local friend A in Canberra, Australia. Canberra is the national capital of Australia. A few days prior I had finished a six city Australian speaking tour that extended from Brisbane (Queensland) to Melbourne (Victoria) and at that point I was spending a few days visiting with my friend A, just relaxing and regrouping before heading to Sydney to board that 415-seat sardine can to head back across the Pacific Pond to Los Angeles. A was planning on driving me to Sydney a couple of days hence. A and her friend T had both worked for the Australian government for years and they thought I might like a royal tour – and I did! The weather was gorgeous, and I saw more than the average tourist. I got fabulous pictures too! That was September 11 (Canberra time) and we were going to complete the tour the following day.

Earlier that evening we had had dinner at T’s house and then went back to A’s place. A asked me if I would mind being alone for a bit because she and T wanted to go out for a while. I said that was fine. Secretly I was glad she suggested it because I needed some down time myself. It was close to midnight Canberra time. (Recall that we hear about the events of that fateful day in New York time – which is 15 hours behind of Canberra time, so it was just shy of being September 12th when A and T left me by myself.) I put on my nightshirt, plugged in my computer, sat myself down at the kitchen table, stuck my feet up on another chair, and started sorting my email. My computer Messenger system was on.

Four people (in the USA) messaged me shortly after the events began to unfold. I have saved all four IM conversations but in all these intervening years, I have only looked at them once. Pain and memories, I suppose. The first person asked if I knew what had just happened. I did not. She then asked if I had the TV on. I did not. She said I should turn it on. I did.

My IM friends and I talked for a few minutes. Then I shifted to the TV and watched until about 3:00 am. A was not back yet, so I went to bed. When I got up a few hours later, A and T were standing in the living room asking me if I knew what had happened. The three of us spent the day in front of the TV. The national and international shots were the same as seen by the rest of the world. The Australian component of the news was about the Australians who had been in New York at the time and, of course, many of them had died. The three of us were all in a state of disbelief for the rest of the day – and beyond.

The American Embassy – about a mile from A’s house – was on total lock-down. [The whole Australian government was shut down too. Needless to say, we never did do that second government sightseeing day.] I just wanted to call the American Embassy and say, “I’m here! I’m here! Poor little waif all alone in a foreign land!” Of course, I didn’t call but calling was a primal instinct. Maybe I had just wanted to hear an American voice reassuring a waif like myself.

What does one feel? What would I have felt had I been on American soil when that tragedy struck? Fear? Anger? Horror? Numbness? Emptyness? All of those? None of those? I don’t know. Oh, I was safe – physically very safe – in Australia. But something inside me had been wrenched out. My homeland had been attacked. And I thought about my fellow countrymen and women who couldn’t be so certain of their physical safety. The unknown had surely engulfed all of us.

I began wondering how answers to this confused narrative might be approached in Judeo-Christian scripture readings. One particular selection from the Book of Sirach seemed to embody the inner turmoil of a desperate people under siege. [Some of you may find Sirach in the Apocryphal section of your Bible – between the Old Testament and the New Testament.] I have copied these few lines below.

Wrath and anger are hateful things,

yet the sinner hugs them tight.

The vengeful will suffer the LORD’s vengeance,

for he remembers their sins in detail.

Forgive your neighbor’s injustice;

then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.

Could anyone nourish anger against another

and expect healing from the LORD?

Could anyone refuse mercy to another like himself,

can he seek pardon for his own sins?

Reading this passage a number of times, I kept thinking of the events of 9-11. Were we filled with wrath and anger – emotions we just wanted to hug – or were we just too numb to absorb the impact of what had happened? (I do believe that most of us were too numb!) But, look at that fifth line down: “Forgive your neighbor’s injustice.” Here is where we can come out of our catatonic state and face our own individual reactions to the 9-11 tragedy. I suspect there are very few people who would accept the bombers’ actions as acceptable. We don’t have to accept their actions, but we do have to accept our own re-actions to their actions. Can we accept the evil actions of those terrorists as actions to be forgiven because those terrorists are/were also God’s children? We must forgive our neighbor! We cannot dictate to God who or what must be forgiven. We can only focus on what is in our own heart. And, we must forgive – not forgive the actions but forgive the persons committing those actions and forgive ourselves too for presuming to be God in our attempt to dictate forgiveness.

Fast Forward: Several days later, after affirming and reaffirming that the plane from Sydney to Los Angeles would indeed be taking off, A drove me from Canberra to Sydney International Airport. It is a wonderful place – but I do not recommend it for a two-day holiday, which it was for me for the next 40 or so hours. (The scheduled flight could not take off because Los Angeles was closed to air traffic.) A stayed with me for a while but she had to get back to Canberra. The Sydney airport had plenty of free online kiosks, good food, free bottles of water, clean restrooms, and so forth. It was also very safe as it seemed like every third person was security.

I need to explain the most meaningful and most pertinent event of that entire Sydney venture.

At the end of the first night, I went up to the airport chapel. I was tired and I just wanted to rest, away from the standard airport clamor. The chapel was divided, one side being Muslim and the other side being Christian.

As I sat there wandering in and out of a sleep state, my glasses fell to the floor. A Muslim man about my age walked into the chapel. He picked up my glasses and handed them to me. I thanked him – and thus began one of the most poignant conversations from the heart that I have ever experienced.

He seemed to have recognized that I am an American. His eyes were almost in tears. He had been in Australia for about 20 years and although he had a slight accent, his English was excellent. He said, “I am so sorry! These people do not understand the message of the prophet. This is not what the prophet teaches. We are all one! What is mine is yours. What do you need? Your pain is my pain. If you are hurt, then I too am hurt. Do you need food? Money? A place to stay? We are all one! What’s mine is yours.” This was not a “come-on” from him. He was totally sincere as he held back his tears. I could hear the spiritual connection in his words. He repeated several times about the bombers not understanding the message of the prophet. He also repeated several times about how we are all one, sharing each other’s pain and giving to each other as each needs. He also asked me several times what I needed. I assured him I needed nothing. At the same time, without saying it, I was eternally grateful for the human perspective he had given me. I too was almost in tears.

Those of us waiting for that flight back to Los Angeles easily bonded. We were strangers, but we all knew each other. We talked freely and we helped each other, both by word and deed. We were clearly many colors and many ethnicities, many ages and many occupations. But we were all family and we all knew it and we were all going home – together.

By the second night, the plane from Sydney to LAX was cleared for landing in Los Angeles and was getting ready for takeoff from Sydney. Because of the newly instigated anti-terrorist regulations, boarding was a very long and tedious process. But, 15 hours after takeoff, as that plane touched down at LAX, everyone on board burst out in a mad round of applause. We had made it home. I went through customs and the agent examined my passport. Handing it back to me, the agent smiled warmly and said, “Welcome home!” And at that point, I did burst out in tears.

I was grateful to be home, but I was also grateful for the very valuable lessons I had learned about the goodness and oneness of humanity and about the deeper understanding I had gained about the power of forgiveness.

Yes, the events of 9-11 were horrific. But, we humans are indeed all one. And, the power of forgiveness will overcome all the horrendousness of anything that can happen.

Look at these few lines from the Christian gospel reading from Matthew. (Keep in mind that seven was a perfect – or magical – number for the Jews.)

Peter approached Jesus and asked him,

“Lord, if my brother sins against me,

how often must I forgive?

As many as seven times?”

Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.

Do we forgive? Who or what do we forgive – either as solitary persons or as a group or a country?

Forgive them, God, from my heart to all eternity!

Rev Dr Roberta M Meehan