9/11/03
Today is a day New Yorkers have come to dread. It is a day in which the local papers have numerous articles about the affects of 9/11/01. It is a day in which everyone wakes to the realization that life can’t be taken for granted. It is a day when once again we are reminded of the darkness and evil that can so easily fill this land, this world as it did two years ago.
Laura, Sophia and I got up early to head to the downtown memorial service. It was evident that we were not the only ones headed in that direction for the same purpose. As we emerged from the Wall St. subway exit, I immediately noticed hoards of people. We were all looking for the same thing: the memorial service that somehow might make a little more sense of the 9/11 tragedy.
It was also evident that unless you were family or press, you weren’t going to come close to the actual service. The general public was kept at an incredible distance. We made it through a couple of barriers upon telling the security that I was a minister but were turned away at almost every other barrier. We didn’t even come close. They were incredibly protective of the sight and understandably so. Not because they were afraid some terrorist might cause problems but because they wanted the families to be able to truly mourn without “Joe Public” standing next to them.
We finally gave up the pursuit to make it into the action and settled in with the rest of the masses watching and listening from afar. Mayor Bloomberg kicked off the ceremony by stating what was so painstakingly obvious through the tears of those standing around us, “Today, again, we are a city that mourns.” Soon after, a choir sang “God bless America” followed by “Amazing Grace” played on bagpipes. It was pretty powerful. They wasted no time and started reading the names of those who lost their lives on that tragic day.
Sophia was tired and hungry and so we went into the World Financial Building so that Laura could feed Sophia. After that, we went down to another area in which we were a bit closer. The names were still being read. Laura left with Sophia and I stayed. I listened to name after name after name. They had different readers call out the names. It was a particularly solemn moment when one of the children readers got choked up in reading her list of names. It was moving to everyone who heard her shaky voice as she fought to keep back the tears.
I walked around to get a feel for the people and saw policemen and women hugging each other sobbing uncontrollably. I saw families piling out of the ceremony having heard their sons or daughters, their fathers or mothers name read and it was obvious that they had been crying for quite some time. I was so busy taking in the spectacle that I didn’t seem to be affected.
Finally after several hours of reading names, they came to the end. It was over. All 2,792 people who died at the WTC site had finally been called. It was a poignant moment. I was finally aware of what I had been listening to. It hadn’t hit me until that moment the weight of all that was going on. I began to cry. I was not alone.
As I descended down into the Wall St. subway station, I knew that if healing was to be restored downtown, if renewal was to be achieved then Jesus Christ must be a part of that picture. It will be through him that any sense of this mess, of this tragedy will be made.
Lord, may you continue to heal the hearts of those who lost friends and/or family on 9/11. Amen.
Today is a day New Yorkers have come to dread. It is a day in which the local papers have numerous articles about the affects of 9/11/01. It is a day in which everyone wakes to the realization that life can’t be taken for granted. It is a day when once again we are reminded of the darkness and evil that can so easily fill this land, this world as it did two years ago.
Laura, Sophia and I got up early to head to the downtown memorial service. It was evident that we were not the only ones headed in that direction for the same purpose. As we emerged from the Wall St. subway exit, I immediately noticed hoards of people. We were all looking for the same thing: the memorial service that somehow might make a little more sense of the 9/11 tragedy.
It was also evident that unless you were family or press, you weren’t going to come close to the actual service. The general public was kept at an incredible distance. We made it through a couple of barriers upon telling the security that I was a minister but were turned away at almost every other barrier. We didn’t even come close. They were incredibly protective of the sight and understandably so. Not because they were afraid some terrorist might cause problems but because they wanted the families to be able to truly mourn without “Joe Public” standing next to them.
We finally gave up the pursuit to make it into the action and settled in with the rest of the masses watching and listening from afar. Mayor Bloomberg kicked off the ceremony by stating what was so painstakingly obvious through the tears of those standing around us, “Today, again, we are a city that mourns.” Soon after, a choir sang “God bless America” followed by “Amazing Grace” played on bagpipes. It was pretty powerful. They wasted no time and started reading the names of those who lost their lives on that tragic day.
Sophia was tired and hungry and so we went into the World Financial Building so that Laura could feed Sophia. After that, we went down to another area in which we were a bit closer. The names were still being read. Laura left with Sophia and I stayed. I listened to name after name after name. They had different readers call out the names. It was a particularly solemn moment when one of the children readers got choked up in reading her list of names. It was moving to everyone who heard her shaky voice as she fought to keep back the tears.
I walked around to get a feel for the people and saw policemen and women hugging each other sobbing uncontrollably. I saw families piling out of the ceremony having heard their sons or daughters, their fathers or mothers name read and it was obvious that they had been crying for quite some time. I was so busy taking in the spectacle that I didn’t seem to be affected.
Finally after several hours of reading names, they came to the end. It was over. All 2,792 people who died at the WTC site had finally been called. It was a poignant moment. I was finally aware of what I had been listening to. It hadn’t hit me until that moment the weight of all that was going on. I began to cry. I was not alone.
As I descended down into the Wall St. subway station, I knew that if healing was to be restored downtown, if renewal was to be achieved then Jesus Christ must be a part of that picture. It will be through him that any sense of this mess, of this tragedy will be made.
Lord, may you continue to heal the hearts of those who lost friends and/or family on 9/11. Amen.
posted by jch at
2:40 PM
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