The 10th Anniversary

The thing I remember most about 9/11 was the confusion. My father was in Japan on business.  When could daddy come home?  My Nana had left from the D.C. airport.  Was she on one of those planes?

I remember sitting in English class in smalltown, Ohio and my classmate's mother told her to be careful.  She was of Indian descent and her mother said, "Be careful.  They won't know they difference, just the color of your skin."

But being in New York is a completely different story.

It's everywhere here.  My husband and I can see the World Trade Center being built and on 9/11 we can see where the towers once stood.

When we go for a walk on the boardwalk near our apartment, we are greeted by a large piece of World Trade Center steel covered in rosaries, funeral cards, American flags.  We take the World Trade Center PATH train to get to downtown Manhattan.  Our church is full of people who lived through that day.  The woman I once nannied for talked about how her life was covered in ash after that day, remembers nearly walking through the doors when the planes hit.

Now, it's not only the 10th year anniversary, but there is a credible threat, once again.  It's the time of year when people feel uneasy here, when we have terrorist drills, when the AK-47's come out at the subway station and there are many more dogs.

We are somewhat fearful.  It is scary to see those guns.  Or to know that the tunnel you are about to drive through has been targeted by someone who does not care about who you are or who you love, but that you are American.  I feel so conflicted about these things.  Would these things still happen if we just got out of all these wars?  Is there a way to love your neighbor when your neighbor will not listen?  What does forgiveness mean in the face of undeniable tragedy?

I do not have any of the answers, that is for sure.  But I pray for what Isaiah spoke of and what was summed up by Archbishop Romero:

We have never preached violence, except the violence of love, which left Christ nailed to a cross, the violence that we must each do to ourselves to overcome our selfishness and such cruel inequalities among us. The violence we preach is not the violence of the sword, the violence of hatred. It is the violence of love, of brotherhood, the violence that wills to beat weapons into sickles for work.