Right now, it's the 10th anniversary of September 11th, and I honestly don't really know how I feel. The details of that day run crisp and blurry, a reminder of the confusion, anger, and numbness that I felt so vividly on that day.
I was a freshman in high school, and had just got out of 1st period tennis when my friend Nick came in late, telling us the news. We didn't know what to think; to me it sounded like something out of a movie. The thought of someone doing something so unspeakable, so unimaginable- I had never heard of terrorism, and as a bright eyed young boy I could not fathom the thought of someone hating my country so much that they could kill innocent people, and in such a way.
My school tried to act as if nothing were happening, or at least that's the way it seemed. We all heard what had happened, and the true terror I felt was that I wasn't able to see what was going on. My nation was bleeding, at the hand of some unknown menace, and it didn't feel as if it were real. I felt disconnected, unable to process and understand the events that felt like they were happening around me, and hoping that there would be nothing more.
My mother picked me up from school that day, shaken in a way that I've rarely seen her. There was the same pain, the same look in her eye that I cannot place. A mix of despair and pointed anger. It was one that I carried with me for weeks as the atrocity that had committed became reality, and something that I could move on from.
I say move on from, because the immediate response I had was to just do that. Our daily lives pushed us forward, through the emotion, through the tragedy and into the vastly different world that awaited us. And we never really moved on from it. More than anything, I think it's fair to say that those of us who are able to remember that day still have it effect us in many ways, large and small.
A lot has changed since the days before September 11th. Though I may still have some naïveté, I've also lost a lot of the innocence that once defined me in such a large way. Gone are the days of finding the good in everyone and everything, though they are slowly and surely returning to me, replacing the cynicism that has plagued me since my freshman year of high school. Our world- our nation- is divided seemingly beyond repair, with the notions of understanding and compromise stricken from our political, religious and personal rhetoric. Social Media has ironically brought us together while taking us further apart than we have ever been.
My world has changed a lot too. If you had shown me my life now to my 14 year self, I would have balked and laughed at you. This is not the life that I may have hoped for, but it is one I am grateful for. Though I have known and still do know many pitfalls that prevent(ed) me from following that which I desire for my life, I am glad that the hate that my heart built up from 9/11 and the subsequent year of unrelated incidents in high school is melting away, allowing me to once again see people for the joyous creation that God has made them to be.
I mourn for all of the people that lost their lives that day, including (much to my own surprise and even disgust) the hijackers who took those people and the spirit of the American people away. The certainly accomplished their goal- our nation was ripped in the heart, a wound that has never healed. So many wonderful, innocent people have lost their lives, their minds, their well-being, and their innocence. And yet, 10 years later, I find myself thinking more about the pity I hold for the men who felt it rational and necessary to cause such senseless destruction. Its odd; the lives torn apart, the hurt that will never be healed, the lives that will never come back... they still weigh on me as they did the day I saw the news clips of the towers falling, but I can't get past the hate. The hate that must have clouded their hearts and minds to me is tragic, to think that it justified to them, the mass murder of thousands. Even worse is that their cause is not limited in scope to them, but is shared by more still.
My heart, though, is still feeling for those who lost loved ones, and many other people or parts of themselves. Though I do feel pity for the perpetrators of 9/11, they made their choice, an opportunity not provided to so many. And while yes, we may have moved forward in our lives, there are still many who feel the effects daily in their lungs, some of which were filled with noxious gases and smoke as they heroically tried to save victims. They feel it in their minds, a terror that never truly goes away, with PTSD and with many other mental disabilities and consequences of that day. They feel it in their hearts, with the memory of their loved ones in photos, in cups of coffee, songs and in their bodies. A kiss on the hand, a hug, a simple look in each other's eyes- these are all moments deprived due to the hatred of this group of men. My pity is still mired by a hate for their actions and inability to justify what they have done for any reason. The victims of 9/11, dead and living, stand as a testament to the true horror of the human condition. While our human condition knows good, we must never forget that there is evil out there, and we must never take for granted the moments we have with the ones we love.
Our nation was truly united for a short while, but that all seems forgotten and absurd in our current times. And yet, that unity is the very thing that our nation stands upon. In every difficult time that our country has faced, we have faced it head-on by standing together, doing what is best for everyone, sacrificing small things for the good of everyone, not matter what their creed, color, gender, sexual orientation, etc. It is this value, this power, that has made our nation strong, and it was this core strength that was truly hurt on September 11th, caused by those who do not desire cooperation and live and let live, who would rather see us turn on ourselves because, ironically, they see nothing but evil and hate coming from us.
It's a different world, 2011, from 2001, and even from 1991. More and more I find myself longing for the years of my childhood, aching for the days when my mind knew no troubles, of climbing trees and playing make believe in the fields behind my grandparents house. Those fields are now orchards, and the trees less high than I remember. Time does not go back, and I will never be a child, nor have the child like innocence that protected me from a world of fear and inhumanity. But that doesn't have to stop me from valuing and living a life that celebrates the life God has given me, treating everyone with the respect and joy that God expects, a lesson that is difficult for me especially.
I'd like to end this with a song, entitles Pie Jesu. The arrangement I'm familiar with is by Mary Lynn Lightfoot, and it has followed me since my childhood. Though it was originally written for the victims of the Oklahoma City bombings, I find its message appropriate regardless.
Its lyrics are thus:
Pie Jesu, Domine (Merciful Jesus, Lord)
Dona Eis Requiem (Let them Rest in Peace)
Agnus Dei (Lamb of God)
Qui tollis peccata mundi (Who takes away the sins of the world)
Dona Eis Requiem (Let them Rest in Peace)
Sempiternam (Everlasting)
Amen.
