Pastor's E-Letter 9/11/21
Nineteen years ago today, on September 11, 2001 at 8:46am and 9:03am, two planes hit the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers in New York City. At 9:37am, a third plane crashed into the Pentagon, and at 10:07am, a fourth plane crashed into a field in Pennsylvania. It was a day that began like any other, but would irreparably change so many things about our country and our world.
I was in the second grade. (I know, I know. Pretty young.) I remember the day- but I know I am among the youngest people who do. My sister, who is only a year younger, remembers less, and friends just two or three years younger than me don’t remember at all. (They were four and five at the time- I don’t blame them.) But, even at seven, my memory is a little fuzzy about that morning and those days after. My parents did a remarkable job protecting us from some of the more horrifying images of that day, and in that way, most of my memory centers in my teacher’s tears, how it felt to be released from school early, and the uncertainty that came with the way everything felt so different, all at once.
While my memory of the day’s details is uncertain, I clearly remember how different the days and the years following would be. Overnight, American flags were everywhere. We sang patriotic songs in our choir concerts. New regulations in airports meant that my dad and grandparents couldn’t meet us at the gate anymore when we flew, and a whole new, long list of security measures were implemented. We entered into a conflict in Iraq, and I had friends with parents who were deployed.
I mostly remember how the spirit of our country and our world was so different, too. As Americans, we have a history of “rising to the occasion,” and banding together when things get difficult. While there was certainly disagreement about the benefits of going to war in Iraq, and all of the partisan debate that was associated with that decision, the overall spirit of our country was one of unity, peace, and strength in the face of adversity. We had done this before, and we banded together again to remember and honor those who died.
As of this writing, approximately 190,000 people have died from COVID-19 in America. About 12,000 of those deaths have happened here in Florida, and numbers continue to climb as universities and schools return to campus after a long hiatus away. We learn more about COVID-19 every day, and in that way, our death rate has decreased significantly. However, individuals still die every single day, and there seems to be no sign of immediate relief.
In March, when we were all sent home, I felt a similar spirit in our country and world to the weeks and months after 9/11. We bought food for first responders, washed our hands, strove to understand if masks were helpful (now we know they are) and stayed home. We banded together in strength and unity in the face of so much uncertainty. But unlike 9/11, our response has sometimes waned in the long-term effects of the coronavirus. What was once a moment of unity, now often feels like a moment of disunity, with arguing in checkout lines about masks, judging parents for school decisions and teachers for their fear, and questioning the validity of the virus itself.
As a country, when we lost 2,996 individuals in the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the thwarted attack in that field in Pennsylvania, we didn’t doubt the validity of the choices made in the weeks following. We never questioned the appropriateness of the mourning, the care taken at the airport, or the memorials to the victims. We did debate, with appropriateness, the choice to go to war. But we supported our troops who did finally go. We did not dig into our partisan sides, and we were not rude to one another about our choices. We chose unity. We chose our better angels. We chose to rise to the occasion.
COVID-19 has felt like one long nightmare for so many. I count myself among the lucky that I have not lost anyone to the virus, and no one in my family has become infected. But I know so many whose lives have been irreparably changed by the virus--even those who have survived. When we dismiss the validity of the precautions taken, or the grief and the nervousness present about the virus, we’re dismissing the grief of so many who have lost so much, due to the virus itself and all of the adjustments we have had to make. As a church, and as an American people, we are called to rise to the occasion, and above the noise and the mess of our world. We are called to be more compassionate, more loving, and more peace-giving in the face of so much pain.
This week in worship, we will talk about the extravagant grace of a God who calls us to forgive seventy times seven- an infinite amount. Sometimes, this feels impossible. (Okay, let’s be real, especially right now: a lot of the time, this feels impossible.) But God calls us to this forgiveness because we have been forgiven first. God calls us to our better angels, because the love of God is so extravagant, we can’t help but follow after God’s forgiveness in our relationships, too.
About six months after 9/11, the fifth graders at my elementary school sang, “I’m Proud to be an American,” at the school’s spring concert. I remember that day with clarity. I remember feeling the words of that song, truly, in my heart: I am proud! I love being an American. I still love being an American, and on days like 9/11, I love remembering who we can be, when we trust in the empowerment of our better angels, and as Christians, in the empowerment of the Holy Spirit. The 2,996 will never be forgotten, and our responsibility to the betterment of our world will not be, either.
This day, this season, this time in our country and our world: we are called to be more for a world that so desperately needs better angels. I know you all hear that call, and you respond. I’m grateful to join you in it.
See you Sunday,
Pastor Allee