09/11/2026
Shared from this week's eNews...
From the Dean’s Desk: A Reflection on the 25th Anniversary of 9/11
Our Christian faith teaches us much about good and evil, sin, forgiveness, and redemption and reconciliation. Sometimes life leaves us speechless when faced with suffering. The pain is so great. Inevitably questions of theodicy arise - doubts about the very existence of God, or why, if God exists, he would allow something like this to happen. Times of suffering and unspeakable tragedy may challenge our faith to the core, and yet, I believe one thing that stands true, it is that there is no real life without wounds. We see this and know this from Jesus, our wounded savior who is present always, even when that reality is hard to grasp.
It has been 25 years since four jetliners hijacked by terrorists crashed into the Twin Towers in lower Manhattan, the Pentagon, and a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. At the time, I lived on the Upper Westside of Manhattan and worked at my alma mater, the Manhattan School of Music. I was not prone to writing much in those days, but on the evening of September 12th, I sat down at my computer and wrote a reflection on what had occurred and what I had experienced. I wrote it to share with friends and family who had reached out in love and concern, but I also wrote it for me. I wanted to preserve what I was feeling. I wanted to remember years later what I was feeling on this day, which like others in previous generations, would live on in infamy.
On this twentieth-fifth anniversary of 9/11, I am sharing what I wrote with all of you because our shared stories are important. I also wish to share it to remember and honor the nearly 3000 killed that day, those who selflessly gave of themselves to help others, and those who have died since from health conditions, specifically cancer caused by exposure to the spewing mist of toxic dust that hung in Lower Manhattan for months.
9/12/2001
Dear Friends and Loved Ones,
One can barely express the profound sense of grief and devastation that has gripped our country, but especially the city of New York. The carnage and destruction will never be forgotten and I fear our lives will never be the same.
I must express my gratitude to you for your kind thoughts and prayers and to so many of you, who although you knew we were nowhere near the scene reached out to be sure that all was well with us.
When I woke this morning, I said to my Liz, "I want to get up this morning and have all of this just have been a nightmare, but I know it's not." Tears started to flow, and I'm afraid that's pretty much the experience of most of us today. The shock of yesterday's tragedy has turned into intense mourning, grief, and uncertainty today.
One can't help but be touched by the stories of New Yorkers who have been heroes and help to their fellow human beings, even at the cost of their own lives. I think we all feel compelled to help in any way we can, only to find out that so many people from across the whole country have shown up in droves to do their part. We went to the 12:30 Eucharist at Christ & St. Steven's today and then walked a couple blocks to the Red Cross to see if we could donate blood. We were informed that we should keep trying over the next couple of days to see if we could give at a later time, but that they were done processing for the day. There were lines though for people to sign up as volunteers and to give financial assistance. Needless to say, there were literally hundreds of people there, everyone feeling a desperate need to offer their service.
We then checked with Blessed Sacrament, where we both work, to see if there were volunteer drives set up. They were only taking names of people offering to help, but provided me with the number of a parishioner whom I know, who coordinates volunteers for the New York Blood Center. After leaving the church, we went to get some lunch, knowing that we needed sustenance, but having no desire to eat.
We went to the bakery/deli on the corner, and as it turned out, ran into the Assistant Rector from Christ & St. Steven's. He gestured toward me and commented that he recognized me, but didn't know me. I explained to him that I might look familiar since I had been to the church over the past few weeks, chatted for a few moments, and then took a table. I just couldn't sit there though! I jumped up and went over to him again and asked if there was anything coordinated at Christ & St. Steven's. He pulled up a chair at our table and talked with us. At this point, there was not, but he re-iterated and expounded on what he had just said at the Eucharist-that we will all be called upon over the next days and weeks to comfort our friends, family and neighbors.
He had mentioned during the service that he and the Rector had gone downtown to help yesterday, also finding themselves in a position to do little, but I asked him to share what they experienced. He told me that they went over to Trinity Wall St. only to find it was already evacuated. Eventually, they found themselves not far from St. Vincent's Hospital, where they were able to help some, but the coordinator wanted to know if they had trauma experience. He commented to me on how as priests, that's something they certainly have due to their continually dealing with people in the most desperate times of their lives. He stayed there to help, being as he lived nearby, but the Rector eventually left and headed back uptown as she knew she might need to be available to her parishioners. Fortunately, they all seem to be accounted for, but the coming days will bring further proof. He then excused himself from the table, as he needed to coordinate a private memorial for a company that lost many.
When one walked through the streets of New York today, you might have the sense that it was the weekend, but there was a far different air; an eerie quietness unknown to New York. Here in New York, a city that I don't normally think of as highly patriotic, you could see flags hanging from occasional fire escapes and balconies. New York, where you know the tourists because they're the ones always looking up, was transformed into New Yorkers looking up every time the silent sky was interrupted with the sound of an aircraft flying over. And everywhere that you went, you heard only silence or conversation about what had happened, what people experienced, what they saw.
All day, I kept saying that I wished there was something I could do and tonight I was called upon to do my part. I was asked to fill a role of music ministry in a way unlike I think I have ever been asked to before. When I called my answering machine this afternoon, I received a message that there would be a special service at the Irvington Presbyterian Church. Returning the call, I spoke with the music director who asked me if I was up to singing the Pie Jesu from the Duruflé Requiem. Without hesitation, but a lump in my throat, I agreed. For those of you who know this piece, you know what an effort this was emotionally and yet, I knew I had to do it and that I would find and be given the strength I'd need. I don't even recall the whole beginning of the service because I was trying to just pray and be centered. I made it through but broke down afterwards. In fact, after the service, the music director/organist and I just held each other and sobbed in each other's arms.
When I returned home to Manhattan and ventured out of the subway, I was immediately hit with the reality of the situation again, for in a neighborhood relatively far from and seemingly untouched by the destruction, one could now smell the strong odor of electrical burning and smoke, as the winds had shifted.
Whether directly or indirectly, I believe we have all been affected by the tragic attacks on NYC and DC. Please continue to pray that we all find healing and peace in our lives and our world.
R
(Photo: St Paul's Chapel in lower Manhattan surrounded by clouds of smoke and dust. H/t The Rev. Stuart Hoke.)
