“The greatest memorial to those who died ten years ago will be a world more inclined toward peace.” Katherine Jefferts Schiori, 26th Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church
This day marks the 10th anniversary of September 11, 2001, a day that will be emblazoned on the hearts, souls, and memories of everyone who witnessed or heard of the events taking place in the air, in New York City and in Arlington, VA. I was thousands of miles away from the epicenters of the tragic events of that most hallowed day, but I can still remember responding, as an ordained person of faith, to events that should change the way we live.
On that day, I was the chaplain of St. Andrew’s Episcopal School in Austin, Texas. The news of a plane crashing into one of the World Trade Center buildings was first heard just minutes before the opening bell of that school day. The details and the significance were not yet known. I turned on the television in an empty classroom to attempt to pick up a signal (no cable and no antenna). The picture was snowy, and Dan Rather’s voice shaky as he described events as they happened. It became clear that the country, we thought so safe and secure, was under attack. CNN’s internet server couldn’t keep up with the onslaught of queries, so our knowledge of events unfolding were sketchy, at best. The picture on the screen was no clearer, but the picture of what was happening to us and to the world we knew was becoming clearer every moment. Many people were losing their lives as gigantic and iconic buildings fell to the ground as we watched. Only later, would we learn of the events at the Pentagon, just a few miles from St. Patrick’s, and I’m sure much more traumatically evident to those of you living in this area, at that time. As more information became known, we heard the stories of heroes on the plane that ended its flight in the fields of Shanksville, PA.
What I remember was wondering what to do as chaplain of a school charged with the spiritual lives of hundreds of children. My colleagues and I decided to share what little we knew with our Middle School students. It was not an announcement made over a loud speaker or even by shuffling between classrooms. We gathered, as we did everyday, in the chapel. The buzz was palpable as we described what we knew and then prayed. Prayer for the many lives lost, for the safety of others, and that fearful events would end. The uncertain future in that moment was palpable. Teachers and students alike had never experienced such historic tragedy. What was next was clouded by what had already taken place.
I had not learned how to handle situations like that in seminary, so each moment was breaking new ground. The rest of the day is lost to me. What did I do, who did I talk to, what words did I use? It was 3,652 days ago, those details are lost in the recesses of my memory. I did many things, kept an open heart, and prayed for peace. Two years ago today, I received a note from a woman who, on September 11, 2001, was one of my seventh grade advisees. She wrote, “For so long, I have wanted to thank you for involving us and allowing us to witness this tragic part of our nation's history. I have many friends who were shielded from the news at school and I am glad that wasn't the case for us.”
I have no idea what I said. Was that me or was that God?
I began this sermon by saying that the events of that day should change us. Many people will tell you that they have. Today’s headline in the Washington Post as evidence. We can point to security measures and safety procedures enacted to foil future terrorist attacks on this country or to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan which have been waged to rid danger from the world.
But how have you changed. I’m not talking about where we choose to visit or how open we are to full body scans. I’m asking about how we have changed on the inside, our understanding of the deep responsibility to be advocates for peace and justice around the world. To be people of open forgiveness, understanding, and respect among people who advocate division, class, and selfishness. In a world that is quickly shrinking, how are we building peace.
In the weeks following September 11, 2001, church attendance multiplied (I don’t have figures on this but I’m reporting what I witnessed). We heard sermons on peace and forgiveness (from the pulpits I frequented) in addition to prayers for those who lost their lives and the heroes who risked their lives to help others. The sense of communal love and faithfulness was seen throughout the United States and the world as efforts of relief and recovery were mobilized.
The story of St. Paul’s Chapel, the oldest religious building in New York City and the site of George Washington’s prayer before he was inaugurated as our first president, is an example of Jesus’s call to serve those in need. St. Paul’s stands across the street from what we now know as Ground Zero. With the destruction happening around it ten years ago today, not one window at St. Paul’s was broken. Instead of locking their doors and running for safety, St. Paul’s became a site for people to serve. Inside became a triage center and a place for heroes to rest and eat. The fence around its historic graveyard provided a public sanctuary for people to remember by posting signs, pictures, and mementos. From its perch, the people of St. Paul’s Chapel put into action the service that Jesus requires of his followers.
Since that day, those in the Episcopal Church have sought to understand other world religions and have discovered that they are all focused on peace. We should be changed, but when you look around and listen to the rhetoric, we experience fear and blame. We celebrate when one of our enemies is killed rather than seeking the peace we hold so dear. This morning we heard about the Israelites celebrating as their enemies, the Egyptians, were consumed by the water of the sea. When an enemy dies, we tend to celebrate rather than grieve the loss of a child of God. We point at those responsible for evil and claim to be seeking human justice. It seems to me that there are many, probably a majority, who want change to compensate for the tragedy of September 11th. That tendency is part of human nature, the belief that we can make amends for the wrongs that have affected our lives.
This is a way of thinking and living that begins in early childhood when we seek revenge for being tripped on the playground. As we get older and more powerful, the retribution gets dangerously risky for our lives and the lives of those caught in between.
There is a story in the book of Genesis about a descendant of Cain (the guy who killed his brother Abel). The descendant’s name was Lamech. Lamech bragged to his wives that Cain avenged sevenfold, but he seventy-seven fold (Genesis 4.24). These two revenge-filled patriarchs our the subject of our Gospel lesson today. Peter questions Jesus about forgiveness. He had learned that one should forgive, but was trying to determine how often (there had to be limits). He turned the tables on Cain by asking Jesus if he should forgive seven times. He didn’t expect that Jesus would reply by turning the table on Lamech, no seventy-seven times.
Now this is not an actuarial table, Jesus taught Peter (and us) to forgive exponentially, into infinity. Just as Lamech meant that he would never stop seeking vengeance, so Peter should never stop spreading forgiveness. Essentially, Jesus said that the only way to bring forgiveness to the world is to forgive with unlimited grace. By doing so, peace will touch the lives of everyone.
It is hard to forgive the perpetrators and their associates who have wreaked tragedy. We look on events like September 11, 2001 with an eye to how it has changed our lives, making them much less convenient and free. But, as I wrote in last Wednesday’s “This Week at St. Patrick’s,” the challenge of such events is to change our lives in ways that open up new opportunities. Everyone will experience terrible and tragic events, moments of inexpressible evil, and occurrences of pain and suffering (some more than others), but how we respond to them tells us about our grounding. Are we grounded in the example of Lamech or in Jesus? Can we be big enough to see forgiveness as an option or are we clouded with the delusion that we can make it right?
We will never make it right because we cannot turn back the clock. We should remember the events of September 11th not as a call to war, but a call to peace. Everyday, our world becomes more connected, it becomes smaller. That means that on occasion, we will be in conflict. We can disagree, we can express opinion, but we should never stop loving others. That is the ground on which we believe, that everyone is a child of God, blessed with great gifts, and deserving of God’s grace.
Katherine Jefferts Schiori, the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, in her reflection on this 10th anniversary of September 11th said, “The greatest memorial to those who died ten years ago will be a world more inclined toward peace. What are you doing to build a living memorial like that?” (ENS link)
God gives forgiveness with reckless abandon, both freely and extraordinarily, can we give a little?
That is the question before us on this day and everyday as we fulfill God’s mission in the world.
The Rev. Dr. Kurt Gerhard (kurt@stpatrickschurchdc.org)
St. Patrick’s Episcopal Church (www.stpatrickschurchdc.org)
Proper 19A
September 11, 2011
Matthew 18.21-35
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