25 Years

 

Church bells will ring throughout the city tomorrow morning at 8:46 a.m. to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the terrorist attack on New York, Washington, DC, and, by extension, the entire United States. That time - 8:46 a.m. - corresponds to the exact moment when the World Trade Center's North Tower was struck, a moment and a day which (as the saying goes) "will live in infamy." Tomorrow, as on each of these 25 somber anniversaries, the names of the almost 3000 people who lost their lives in that attack will be read out loud. Meanwhile, our own recollections inevitably turn to that terrible day 25 years ago, a day still marked in memory, so terrible to remember that it lacks even a name and is known only by its numerical date, 9/11.

On September 11, 2001, I was next door at the time of the attack, casting my vote in the NY Democratic party primary, preparing to nominate candidates eager to run for mayor to replace the then unpopular, lame-duck incumbent. It was an inadvertent coincidence, but it remains a reminder that it was our distinctively American constitutional democratic order that was attacked on that terrible day, that the American constitutional democratic order is still very much in jeopardy (albeit in different ways and maybe more from domestic rather than foreign threats), and that the defense of this exceptional constitutional democratic order is an ongoing responsibility which we dare not shirk.

It was a absolutely beautiful late-summer morning. Many of us who were here in New York then remember how the sunny serenity of an that beautiful late summer New York City morning was suddenly transformed into an experience of horror beyond anything most of us had ever imagined we’d see so close to home. And how quickly, everything changed! Our country and our city were being suddenly and savagely attacked, and we all got to see the ugly face of evil in a way my generation had hardly really experienced it before.

 

Soon, even the corner Starbucks shut down, as police barricades went up, closing our street to regular traffic. For days that stretched into weeks, we went around in a daze, past lowered flags, past churches and firehouses draped in black, past posted pictures of missing persons who would never be found, staring at the vacant place in the skyline, as military jets patrolled the now grimly gray, but otherwise empty sky. We watched over and over again as TV told and retold the story, punctuated by occasional accounts of heroic courage and poignantly loving final conversations – powerful lessons not just about how to face death, but how to live a life that makes sense.

 

We still remember – and mourn – those whose lives were wickedly cut short on that day of terror. Our ability to remember one another is one of the things that makes us most distinctly human. When we remember those who have died, we acknowledge our common humanity with them. And we also recognize our continued relationship. Remembering the dead is a fundamental and universal human need, which we neglect at our peril. (Benjamin Franklin is supposed to have said that, to understand a community, one should visit their cemetery.)

From earliest times (and down to today in the Church’s daily prayer and in every Mass), the Church also has honored the memory of the dead and offered prayers on their behalf. Saint Monica famously said to her son Saint Augustine: “I ask only this of you, that you remember me at the altar of the Lord, wherever you may be.” So, besides being a fundamental and universal human need, remembering the dead is also a religious duty, that expresses our faith and our hope.

Meanwhile, of course, life goes on. The events of that tragic day continue to take their toll in lives, as many have sickened as a result of their exposure to toxins on that day. It is estimated that maybe more have died since then as a result than were killed on that day itself. At the same time, the world, with its seemingly intractable social and political problems and conflicts continues to challenge us. Both international politics and domestic politics have changed immeasurably in these 25 years. We have lost the brief and seemingly ephemeral sense of unity of purpose which characterized our response to that tragedy, We remember September 11, 2001, as individuals each bringing his or her own worries, fears, and hopes, and also as citizens collectively concerned for the security of our country, conscious – as world events continue to remind us – of how perilous life can be and how fragile the network of social bonds on which we depend for our survival. 

Violent attacks upon our country and our constitutional way of life have tragically punctuated our history, in each case requiring a response sufficient to restore our sense of national purpose. A proponent of unity and reconciliation in service of the American Dream, Abraham Lincoln famously ended his First Inaugural, in which he had called out the specific threats the nation faced with entreated from those who had also rejected the constitution the rule of law, and the will of the people in elections, with this entreaty: We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

That appeal fell on deaf ears then. 

What might we hope for now in our politically polarized place and time?