September 10, 2006
(Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 18)

On This Fifth Anniversary, Give Forgiveness

By The Very Rev. Terry White, Dean

Isaiah 35:4-7a  •  Psalm 146 or 146:4-9  •  James 1:17-27  •  Mark 7:31-37
(From The Lectionary Page)

Like most people, I remember well where I was five years ago tomorrow. That Tuesday morning I was traveling south on the Kennedy expressway heading into Chicago to chair a meeting at the diocesan center. Before leaving the rectory that morning, I had heard news of a plane that crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers and that a fire had broken out. At that point, talk was of a terrible aviation accident.

By the time I switched on my car radio, events made it clear that a coordinated attack was underway. As traffic moved slowly toward downtown Chicago, I found myself looking up – not toward heaven, but toward the John Hancock Center and the Sears Tower, wondering if I would witness an attack on those structures. For a brief time, Chicago NewsRadio reported that navy aircraft had been scrambled to intercept a private aircraft that failed to respond to air traffic control. This plane was about twenty minutes out over Lake Michigan heading toward the city. Shortly it was determined that the aircraft was not a threat.

Our diocesan Commission on Ministry meeting was shortened, and we gathered in the cathedral for prayers as people poured in from the streets to cry, pray, and to be honest, a few swore. That was five years ago tomorrow, Sept 11, 2001.

I also remember quite clearly what began five years ago on Sept 12, when my parish, like virtually every other congregation in the country, responded to the evil in two ways. We sought to address material needs, collecting money and supplies to help fund relief. But we also dealt with the spiritual and emotional effects caused by this evil, seeking to confront the darkness and anger created by the terrorists. As we mourned and came together to pray and seek God’s strength, we focused on words of Jesus that we heard last Sunday, that nothing going into us can defile our souls. But that which comes out of us can and does defile us and damage our soul.

The Rev’d Lyndon Harris joined the staff of Wall Street’s famous Trinity Church/ Saint Paul’s Chapel in April 2001 in order to develop an alternative urban worship program at Saint Paul’s. However, from September 15, 2001 to June 2, 2002, Saint Paul’s Chapel was converted into a multi-faith relief center for the rescue and relief workers, and victim’s family members, at the World Trade Center site.. By the end of the operation, over one half million meals were served. During this time, Father Harris said that he had 60,000 parishioners.

In the September issue of Episcopal Life, Father Harris writes:

Five years ago, on Sept. 11, 2001, I was in my office [at Trinity Church Wall Street] when I heard a loud crack. It was the sound of the first plane striking the north tower. What followed that day was a harrowing mélange of near-escapes, fear, heroism and confusion. But the horror and heroics of 9/11 is only the beginning of the story that has been covered by every media outlet in the world.

Less public but equally important is the story of 9/12: the day we decided to get out of bed as individuals and as a community to respond to the acts of violence with hearts of courage and compassion as we sought to rescue survivors and, ultimately, to find the remains of the dead. That day was long – it lasted from Wednesday, Sept. 12, 2001, until June 2, 2002, when recovery work at the World Trade Center site was declared finished.

On Sept. 12, I put on my boots and I walked the mile and a half from my apartment in Greenwich Village to St. Paul’s Chapel. Every step of the way, my heart was beating in my throat, fully expecting to find St. Paul’s demolished.

When I first saw the spire of St. Paul’s Chapel standing defiantly, it took my breath away. As I walked around the church, which was covered in debris and ashes, I marveled at the fact that it was still standing. But the miracle was not just that we survived, but also that we now had a big job to do.

Over the course of the next eight-and-a-half months, we were privileged to serve more than half a million meals and to provide chiropractors, massage therapists, podiatrists, grief counselors, food-service personnel and clergy to relief workers in a ministry that went around the clock day after day, month after month. To me, this nine-month ministry at St. Paul’s was nothing less than a glimpse into the truth of the kingdom of God.

In addition to overseeing relief efforts at St. Paul’s Chapel, I also made it a priority every day to make a “pastoral visit” into the World Trade Center site. As I walked through it, smelling the smells, hearing the sounds, seeing these overwhelming sights -- twisted, gnarly steel and debris and the agonizing faces of the men and women doing the digging -- and as I said last rites and prayers and blessings over body bags and remains, the question kept coming to me, day after day after day: “How in God’s name do we end this cycle of violence, revenge and retribution?”

The answer did not come to me quickly, nor was it easy. Over time, the answer to my heartfelt, gut-wrenching question emerged as the word “forgiveness.” Forgiveness, as Jesus had done on the cross when he was slandered and crucified.

Lyndon continues:

Forgiveness had been at the heart of my faith all along. While I had been preaching about forgiveness for 12 years as a pastor, Jesus’ agonizing words from the cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do,” suddenly had deep meaning for me. In the context of the devastation and the agony referred to as Ground Zero, I finally caught a glimpse of the message of the one to whom I had dedicated my life.

Forgiveness. By choosing to forgive, we choose intentionally not to perpetuate the cycle of violence and revenge. By choosing to forgive, we stand in awe of the horrors that can happen to people in this world, and we decide neither to participate in them nor repay them. (http://www.ecusa.anglican.org/26728_77480_ENG_HTM.htm?menu=undefined)

Father Harris has teamed up with Dr. Frederic Luskin to lead the creation of The Garden of Forgiveness at the World Trade Center site. Dr. Luskin writes:

Forgiveness does not mean that we excuse evil acts perpetrated against us. It does not mean that we can’t or shouldn’t defend ourselves, nor does it mean that we condone destructive behavior.

Forgiveness does not even mean that we must reconcile ourselves with the perpetrator. Forgiveness means that we take stock of what has happened, we grieve our losses and we deliberately make the world a better place by not repaying violence for violence. (http://www.ecusa.anglican.org/26728_77480_ENG_HTM.htm?menu=undefined)

The web site for the Garden of Forgiveness echoes these words:

We understand forgiveness to mean the ability to release resentment and hostility after a period of mourning and grief.

We understand that forgiveness never condones violence nor is it a substitute for the search for justice, nor does it demand reconciliation with those who have injured us.

We understand that each of us struggles to know what to do when cruelty is imposed upon us. There is no easy answer and we understand those who lost loved ones have a different experience than the rest of us.

And yet, without providing a space to sit in peace and contemplate the horrors of terrorism and the possibility of offering forgiveness, we are concerned that revenge and retribution will dominate the conversation. It is our goal to offer a place at the heart of this great cruelty for people to be open to the possibility of their personal and collective healing and forgiveness. It is vital that, as we rebuild Lower Manhattan, we acknowledge the sanctity of this hallowed ground—to remember the lives lost and, from that point of sorrow and suffering, in their honor and memory, to embrace the future. (http://www.gardenofforgivenessatgz.org/aboutus.html)

Father Harris concludes his article on this fifth anniversary by saying:

What I urge is that, five years after the horrific attacks of 9/11, we, the church community, publicly commit ourselves to the message of forgiveness. We commit to teaching forgiveness and, where possible, model a forgiving nature. We commit to the vision of 9/12, where everyone does his or her piece to heal this world that is riddled with hatred and violence.

We commit ourselves to releasing our grudges and grievances and to teaching our parishes to do so as well. Finally, we commit to learn how to forgive, so that forgiveness becomes more common in this world than anger and revenge. (http://www.ecusa.anglican.org/26728_77480_ENG_HTM.htm?menu=undefined)

For me, the living model of forgiveness is Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who lived through, and emerged from, the horrors of apartheid not bitter nor obsessed with revenge, but dedicated to truth, reconciliation, and forgiveness. Father Desmond has said many times, “There is no future without forgiveness.” In our own lives, in this city, in our nation, in the Church, and in the world.

The Letter of James proclaims that we must be doers of the word and not hearers only. Jesus, God’s Eternal Word, calls us to be people who seek truth, justice and reconciliation, capable of continual forgiveness. The Gospels clearly witness to these teachings, and he forgave all who betrayed and conspired to murder him as they nailed to the Cross. As Mark proclaims in today’s Gospel, Jesus can heal us, we can “be opened.”

Beloved in Christ, on the fifth anniversary of the godless attacks of September 11, let us remember the dead and those who mourn them, and honor those known and unknown whose heroic sacrifices saved and served so many. We also pray for those who now live with physical and emotional injuries caused by responding to this tragedy.

And on the fifth anniversary of the September 12, let us re-dedicate ourselves, along with all people of faith and good will, to invest our time and money and energy to responding to all evil by being peacemakers, by letting go of hatred, by resolutely turning our backs on revenge, and by forgiving, and by forgiving.

There is no future without forgiveness.