by Rev. Terry Davis
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation on September 11, 2016
I imagine that everyone in this Sanctuary has a 9/11 story. You know exactly where you were, who was with you, and what you were doing on that horrifying day 15 years ago. Perhaps the only event in roughly the last 50 years that rattled the American psyche as much as or more than this one did was the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.
Similar tales of “I remember when” were told then. And they will continue to be told as long as generations of adults and kids who lived through the shock and pain of that moment are alive to pass them on.
Hannah’s 9/11 “I remember when” story and her takeaways are different from mine and, I imagine, different from yours. That’s because when tragedy strikes, we each meet it with a different life experience. And, when it’s over, we look back on it through different lenses.
In my case, my 9/11 story took place on the weird and magnificent Martian landscape that is Sedona, Arizona. Gail and I had just returned from a two-day excursion to Grand Canyon National Park, and Sedona was our base camp for our week-long vacation.
Hiking and exploring the south rim of the canyon, we had been reluctant to leave, and so we returned to our little guest house in Sedona rather late on Monday evening. While I had enjoyed our visit, I was also suffering from a case of bronchitis. So I was still sleeping Tuesday morning when Gail came into the bedroom and nudged me awake.
“A plane just hit the World Trade Center,” she said. “Come out into the living room and watch TV with me.” And, so like many other people around the world that day, we stayed glued to our TV as we watched the surreal and frightening events unfold before our eyes.
We weren’t really sure what to do when the day was over. Our flight home wasn’t scheduled until several days later, and all the planes in the country had been grounded. We had rented a Mitsubishi SUV for our trip but didn’t realize until the week wore on that we might need it to drive back to Atlanta.
And so, the next morning, we went into town. We wandered up and down Sedona’s streets and into the New Age shops and art galleries. Nearly every merchant was either watching the news on TV or listening to it from a radio.
The 9/11 attack was the topic that made friends out of strangers. We talked with people we didn’t know but with whom we now felt a common bond. Together, we were shocked. Together, we were sad, scared and lost. For most folks, anger not yet set in.
I remember thinking that being on vacation felt like a frivolous thing to do during a time of national crisis. I wanted to go home. I wanted to do something constructive. But the planes were still grounded.
And, so the next day, we drove to the outskirts to see Sedona’s array of red sandstone formations. The towering pinnacles, spires, buttes, and domes glowed orange and red in the sun. Above us, the brilliant blue skies above were quiet – still no airplanes.
The stunning and odd scenery outside and my jumbled emotions inside made me feel as though I was in an episode of Star Trek, exploring an unknown planet in a far-off galaxy. As our SUV bounced along on rugged dirt roads, Gail and I rode mostly in silence, listening to the news on the radio to get any updates about the well-being of our country and our fellow Americans.
Our country and fellow Americans! Like perhaps so many other U.S. citizens,
my national pride was at its zenith that week. I didn’t personally know anyone who had died at Ground Zero, the Pentagon or in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. But, in another way, I did know them. They were men and women, younger and older, parents, sons, daughters, sisters and brothers. They had homes, friends, jobs, lives. Nearly 3,000 people dead. Over 6,000 injured.
Almost all of those who perished were civilians with the exceptions of 343 firefighters, 72 law enforcement officers, 55 military personnel, and the 19 terrorists who died in the attacks. The September 11 attacks are the worst terrorist attack in world history and the deadliest foreign attack on American soil since the Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor.
Our 9/11 stories were a national conversation then and are again on this 15th anniversary. A website named “Where Were You on September 11, 2001?” has over 2,000 stories on it, posted by persons all over the world – and it allows anyone to easily add his or her own story. The titles of these personal essays, such as “Unknown Pain,” “Grown Man Crying,” “Didn’t Sink In,” and “Young But Engraved,” remind me that the grief we shared is the grief we still carry.
And, fear. We still carry a lot of fear . . . about terrorism and about what we don’t know about Islam. We have a U.S. presidential candidate and other politicians calling for a complete ban of Muslim immigrants. We have countries in Western Europe who ban or are proposing bans that prohibit Muslim women from wearing hijabs and burkinis.
And, just a few weeks ago, 600 people packed a courthouse in Newton County, Georgia to condemn plans proposed by a nearby Muslim community for a new mosque and cemetery. It was a three-hour town hall meeting that reportedly was filled with bigoted insults and reassertions of well-disproven myths.
“It’s hard for people like me — and probably most of you tonight — to draw the line between innocent Muslims and radical Muslims, since they’ve all claimed to serve the same God and they all claim to follow the same book,” one woman barked in front of a cheering crowd.
While terrorism is ongoing and memories of 9/11 still leave us with feelings of anger and pain, the hurt that we harbor is not necessarily our ally. It seems our suffering drew us closer as a nation 15 years ago. And, now as time has passed and terrorist attacks – which have always been with us – seems be more aggressive and more frequent, our suffering threatens to warp our understanding of safety and destroy our legacy and vision of as country “of the people, by the people, and for [all] people.”[ref]From The Gettysburg Address[/ref]
What lessons might we draw on this 15th anniversary of the September 11 attacks?
Do these closing words we heard earlier from the pear tree that survived the collapse of the World Trade Center reflect our feelings, too?:
With the power of hope
there’s just one way to sum it:
there is nothing so bad
that we can’t overcome it.”
Or do these words from Hannah speak for us when after saying that people are people period, she also asserted, “All of them have a story. All of them have a grandmother. All of them are looking for love and belonging, just like us.”[ref]“Reflection on 9/11” by Hannah Cowart[/ref]
An appreciation for our human resiliency and our common humanity might certainly be some of the lessons learned from a tragedy like 9/11. I cannot imagine what it has been like for those families and friends who lost loved ones on that day.
But, I can hope that something has enabled them to move on with their lives in spite of their pain. I can hope that it is the same something that will give me strength in my moment of pain and despair.
I can hope.
But if hope is the single green leaf on the charred tree, then action is the water and soil that nurtures the roots of that tree and enables it to thrive.
When I asked you several weeks ago during our worship service to write on a 3 x 5 index card your answer to the question, “What are your hopes?” so many of you responded that you would like to see a more peaceful world.
As Unitarian Universalists, we know that our hopes must be followed and nurtured by action. Our faith has a history of not standing by idle while the world suffers. And, so, what actions might this anniversary of 9/11 specifically be inviting us to take? Where can we make a difference?
I believe that one of the most vital things we can do as people of faith is to work for understanding across religions and across cultures. Our Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations is encouraging us to reach out to other faith communities and traditions to break down the fear of the Other and work together for change.
Northwest’s participation in Habitat for Humanity’s interfaith build next Sunday, September 18th is one step in that direction. We’ll be building a home in southeast Atlanta along with persons from the Baha’i, Christian, Jewish and Muslim faiths.
Northwest member Jill Benton, who is also a member of Northwest’s Social Justice Ministry team, will tell us more about it when we Share the Plate.
Northwest is also sponsoring several programs to dispel myths and create greater understanding for the Muslim faith. The first is a series of two lunchtime programs being held here on Wednesday, September 21 and on Wednesday, October 19. Northwest member Greg Pattison, who has spent nearly three years in the Middle East learning about the culture, religion, geography and systems of government, will lead the lunch programs.
The second program aimed at creating greater understanding of the Muslim faith, will be led by Northwest member Earl Daniels, who is pursuing the UU ministry. It will take place in October and will include a visit to a local Atlanta mosque.
By educating ourselves about Islam, we can become a voice of reason and hope at a time when fear of the Muslim faith and violence towards Muslim people are on the rise.
In addition to building relationships and understanding, I believe that this 9/11 anniversary is a reminder that we must take a stand against any bigotry and hate. We know that oppression takes many forms and exists in many places.
Earlier this year, for example, this congregation examined the issue of mass incarceration and criminal justice reform by reading and discussing attorney Bryan Stephenson’s book Just Mercy.
We have opportunities coming up to reflect on these topics and to take action. Hannah Cowart will tell us about one of these opportunities during our announcements.
****
Gail and I finally left Sedona on a Friday morning 15 years ago to drive across the country and back home.
I felt changed by my 9/11 experience. As haunting as the red rocks of Sedona were my feelings of vulnerability. I realized how much I relied on feeling safe every day. I also found welling up inside of me a powerful sense of protectiveness towards our country and my fellow Americans.
Clearly, I wasn’t alone in experiencing these feelings of vulnerability. And we all know of several outcomes of the fear we shared as a nation: our country declared a “War on Terror,” passed the Patriot Act, and invaded Afghanistan and Iraq.
I’m not prepared this morning to argue the pros and cons of these decisions. Nor am I suggesting that terrorist attacks then or since don’t require a response. I simply want to lift up the possibility that, anytime fear is a major driver in decision-making, not all of those decisions are going to be reasonable and some are going to be pretty awful. At least, that is the way it works in my personal life.
The September 11 attacks and their aftermath compel me to consider how we use violence to achieve peace . . . as well as whether it’s possible to increase our use of peace to end violence.
We will be exploring that subject, by the way, at our congregational retreat at The Mountain on October 7th – 9th. As some of you know, we have invited LeAnne McDaniel, president of Georgia Nonviolent Communication, to lead the Saturday program that weekend.
Nonviolent Communication, sometimes referred to simply as NVC, is based on historical principles of nonviolence – the natural state of compassion when no violence is present in the heart. Through its emphasis on deep listening— to ourselves as well as others—NVC strives to help those who practice it discover the depth of their own compassion.
The three-hour workshop at The Mountain retreat on October 8th will explore how Nonviolent Communication can be a powerful tool for peacefully resolving differences at personal, professional, and political levels.
If, as Unitarian Universalists, we truly believe that change in the world starts with changes in our own actions, then it seems that learning how to be ambassadors of nonviolence in our families and communities is an important step toward creating the peaceful world we desire. So, contact Northwest members Penny Raney, Rebecca Cabral or Mani Subramanian if you haven’t yet signed up for the retreat at The Mountain.
As we go from here, may we recognize that this anniversary of 9/11 offers us the opportunity for more healing and for further assessment. May we remember and grieve the loss of our fellows. May we share our “I remember when” stories and reflect on how we and our world has changed these last 15 years.
And, may we look for specific steps we can take to build partnerships and understanding, end bigotry and hate, and become the peacemakers we seek.
Our world needs us. Let’s go. May it be so. Amen.