A Day to Remember

On this day, my email is not so much encouragement as much as it is reflection on the anniversary of 9-11.

It is hard to believe that it has been 7 years since 9-11. Like many of you, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Living in Virginia at the time, I remember visiting the Pentagon a few days afterward and seeing the giant hole where the plane had hit. I remember checking in with people I knew who worked at the Pentagon to make sure they were all right. I remember flying out of Washington, D.C. about two weeks later with a much different mindset getting on that plane. I remember visiting family in New York and seeing the empty skyline for the first time. The pictures are so clear in my mind.

Yet in other ways, it seems like such a long time ago. I read an article earlier today that the concerns in the minds of Americans about another terrorist attack are at their lowest point since 2001. After 9-11, most Americans (60%) believed that another impending terrorist attack was likely. I remember asking myself, not if there would be another attack, but when would there be one.

We praise the Lord that there has not been another event like this since that day and are thankful for our government, military, and law enforcement officials that have worked so hard to keep our nation secure these seven years. I pray we will never see a day like that again. Most importantly, we are thankful that God is in control even in the midst of things we do not understand.

In light of the anniversary, I want to share with you an article (Read the full article) written by a classmate of mine from Seminary named Bill Wrede who courageously ministered to the rescue workers in Lower Manhattan on that fateful day. As your read this, offer a prayer of thanks for servants like this who continue to share the hope of Jesus through extreme trial. Some of this is graphically disturbing and if you are easily upset, I would discourage you to read further.

Ministry at Ground Zero and Beyond
byWilliam Wrede

It was while I was hugging one sobbing woman that the roar of
the North Tower began as it,too,collapsed before our eyes. In less
than ten seconds the 110 stories of steel,glass,concrete,and people
were reduced to a nearly unrecognizable pile of rubble. Lord,have
mercy.

I remember running just like everyone else did. We didn’t make
it very far before the cloud of dust and debris overcame us. We all
bent down and breathed through handkerchiefs or T-shirts or what-
ever we had to put over our faces and felt the debris falling on our
backs like a gentle rain.Soon,the entire area was painfully quiet.The
number of people had thinned out dramatically and I felt horribly
alone. Everything looked like something out of a horrible movie.
Each of us was covered with the white dust that clung to literally ev-
erything. Cars,buildings,phone booths,trash cans, hotdog carts,and
people were all grey. I came across an NYPD officer trying to shep-
herd the people away from the area,sending them north. Not hav-
ing an idea where I should go to help,he recommended I head to
West Street where rescue workers were being deployed. Each time I
looked south,toward where the Towers stood moments earlier, I saw
nothing but fire,smoke,and an incredible pile of debris.

“For where two or three come together in my name,there am I
with them.” Matthew 18:20 (NIV)

While walking toward West Street, I prayed with several small
groups. The groups vowed to walk until they were all able to find
help. Some were heading to the Brooklyn Bridge to get out of Man-
hattan at least. Others were headed to some unknown point;they
were just heading north.

When I arrived on West Street, I came across an incredible gath-
ering of rescue workers. I kept an eye out for other, official, “de-
partment”chaplains thinking I needed to honor their “turf”and to
get some direction for what needed to be done. At that point, I saw
no other chaplains near the Tribeca Pedestrian Bridge on Chambers
and West Street. I was on my own.

Chaos. There was plenty of it. The remains of the buildings
showed no sign of their previous splendor. There were remnants of
the North Tower’s facade in sight but there wasn’t much more that
was recognizable.There was some order to what the rescue workers
were doing since, after all, they were at least used to doing one thing:
responding.Yet no one ever wrote the book on how to be a chap-
lain in this very moment. No one ever wrote the book explaining
what to do first when two buildings, 110 stories each, collapses and
form a debris pile not much more than seven stories tall. All these
thoughts consumed, literally, about one minute of my time as I stood
under the Tribeca Bridge. It was then that I saw the first firefighter
emerge from the site of the World Trade Center. I did not need to
think anymore. What came next seemed to come almost naturally.

I am confident that much of what I saw and much of what I heard
the rest of that day was truly only meant for the eyes and ears of God.
The words from the liturgy, from the words of absolution spoken by
the pastor, “...in the stead...” make a lot more sense to me having
experienced what I experienced that day. God was present and I was
his instrument that day.I looked into the eyes of this first man,“Carl,”
and I truly understood what is meant by the eyes being the windows
to the soul. There,in the eyes of that firefighter, I saw his soul. Eyes,
red from the dust and from tears,expressed the horror of what had
just happened even before he spoke one word. Still,there were also
the words. The words removed any doubt. Carl said, “Father, I saw
so many parts but no whole bodies. We had to dodge the people that
were jumping.My partner and I were running from the building
when he got hit by one of them.He’s dead,Father.He’s dead!”I stood
there,ankle deep in the dust of the buildings that had just fallen,em-
bracing this firefighter as he wept. Time seemed to stand still. The
wailing of sirens. The rescue workers shouting out orders. All of it
seemed muted as my ears were filled with the words and the sobs of
this man.Our tears mingled. We prayed. Other firefighters came and
offered him support. They washed his eyes out with their water bot-
tles. They said they would take care of him. A few minutes later,Carl
came to me to be blessed and then he walked back down West Street,
back into the debris.From nearly being a victim to now being part
of the rescue and recovery. Carl and I had just a few minutes so I
could offer hope and healing in the midst of the chaos.
The firefighters kept coming out as others went in.The ones com-
ing out were sometimes just like Carl,and I would spend some time
with them.Others,usually in a group,would see that I was with
someone and they would simply make eye-contact or shout, “Keep
praying for us,Father.”As they walked by,they would put a hand on
their brother’s shoulder and on mine. When a group of firefighters
would come out together,they would sometimes stop and ask for
me to simply pray with them and for their lost brothers.They would
stop,remove their helmets,and bow their heads and we would pray
briefly.Lots of gratitude and lots of statements to the effect, “We’re
glad the church is here today,Father. We need you.”

There were others who were not so easily consoled. They were
usually the ones who most frequently demanded an answer to one
important question,“Where is God in all of this?”Sometimes,I have
to admit,I was spared the opportunity to say something wrong when
a brother firefighter would say, “Hey,Ed.Father’s here. We’re here.
We aren’t doing this on our own today,brother.God’s with us or
we’re screwed, man.”Then there would usually be a request for
prayers and a blessing before they went for further orders or returned
to the site. Those were the “easy”ones.

There were also those who demanded an answer and I did my
best to assure them that God was literally there in the midst of all of
us.How this was done seemed about as varied and unique as the men
with whom I spoke and prayed that day.The “answers”usually were
similar to quoting Matthew 18:20 as cited above. Another time I
tried assuring them that God does not advocate evil,but good.Many
received comfort and hoped knowing that their presence that day,
and even the sacrifice of many, all occurred under the careful watch
of a loving Heavenly Father. For some,the whole idea that they could
be there serving God that day made them take ownership and en-
couragement from the thought of not being “just”some firefighter
but a servant of God that day.

Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.Rather,
be afraid of the one who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two
sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart
from the will of your Father.Even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
So don’t be afraid;you are worth more than many sparrows.(Matt.10:28-31;
NIV)

True enough,there were those who cursed God that day. In their
minds, God was absent on September 11. It was almost as if I could
hear them literally speaking the same words Christ did on the cross,
“My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?” The voice of
those whose faith had been shaken did echo such horror. Was this a
time when there was not so much as a smoldering glow left in their
faith? Was this bruised reed now broken? While that would not have
been the will of God,apparently it could happen.Recalling my own
sense of loneliness after the collapse of the North Tower, I hurt for
these people. Many were literally inconsolable. Sometimes there were
no words.Sometimes a man just needed to be embraced,to be as-
sured that at least one other human being was alive that morning.
For some,they were never able to reconcile in their own mind
how a loving God could ever permit such things to happen as they
had experienced that day. Some literally saw my presence that day
and the thought of praying as absolute nonsense.Statements like,
“What God do you work for,man? He left a long time ago.”For
them I also prayed. Even in the midst of disbelief, some faithful
Christians could pray and see that as an opportunity for them to offer
hope to brothers who were hurting. Oh, New York, New York, how
I longed to gather you as a hen gathers her chicks under her wing!
What a message of hope,of the Cross,in the midst of all of this chaos
was available to these people! How awful that some chose to suffer,
even to suffer alone. Lord,have mercy.

So many rescue workers. So many prayers. So many blessings.
Blessing? The desire of the firefighters and other rescue workers was
to be blessed. “Father,will you bless me?”was all it took before the
line of rescue workers would spontaneously form. When asked what
their names were,about half responded with, “My baptism/Chris-
tian name is _______.”I wasn’t blessing anonymous rescue workers.
I was blessing God’s children. I was blessing those who had already
received the sign of the cross on their foreheads. These men,these
baptized children,were asking for God to continue to be a part of
what was happening that day. That was when I took the oil stock
from my pocket.Inside was the oil I received at the chrism mass dur-
ing Holy Week of that year. After speaking their name,sometimes
with a bit of difficulty given the diverse ethnic backgrounds of the
men, I blessed them,pressing my thumb into the oil-soaked cotton
in the oil stock and making the sign of the cross on their forehead
saying,“(their first name),God bless you in the Name of the Father,
and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”And then,placing
my hands either on their head or on both sides of their helmet I said,
“And may God’s holy angels protect you as you serve Him today.”
Man after man.Rescuer after rescuer. Child of God after child of
God. They kept coming.

Some of them came looking for more than just a quick blessing.
When you don’t know if your city is still under attack, your values
change. When you don’t know if they will destroy other buildings
and kill more people, priorities change. When you aren’t sure if our
fighters in the sky are keeping our air space clear or if they are going
after someone, you think differently. When you aren’t sure if you will
be alive at the end of this day,there is some business to be taken care
of. I heard confession. I spoke the words that assured these men that
God absolved them of their sins. I sat on a cement planter next to a
firefighter and heard his confession.He called it cheating on his wife.
You speak bluntly when you are confessing in a war zone. He wanted
to amend his sinful life but wasn’t sure he was going to be alive at
the end of the day to make a difference.It was hard spending such a
short time with these men and then sending them on their way. In
the end,it truly was okay since God promised to be with them,even
to the end of the world.They knew that too.Go.Hope and healing
planted in the hearts of many.

[A few months later]
We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus,so that the life of Jesus
may also be revealed in our body.For we are alive and are always being given
over to death for Jesus’sake,so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body.
So then,death is at work in us,but life is at work in you.(II Cor.4:5-12;NIV)
The smell of death is an amazing reminder that death was not in
God’s original plan. When the medical examiner would open the
bag,pictures were taken and the remains were identified as to which
part of the body they had come from.Even in the midst of the de-
bris surrounding the body,there was much that could be identified.

The most powerful moments came when identification was found
with the body or when the medical examiner would tenderly pick
up a hand and show the wedding band still in place. These were
somber moments.These were real people.These were not numbers.
These were not buildings.These were people,brothers,sisters,moth-
ers, fathers,best friends.

Because we did not know much if anything about the people who
were recovered,the prayers were usually generic.For the most part,
that standard prayer I had written for this went like this. “In the
Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
God of all creation,we give you thanks for the recovery of this in-
dividual. We give you thanks for the eyes of the workers who were
able to locate this person. We give you thanks for the skill of the iron
workers and others who removed the debris so this person could be
brought from the site. Now we ask you to bless those who accom-
pany this body/person/remain to the morgue.May we handle this,
your creation,with respect and dignity.Give wisdom and insight to
all who will be part of identifying this person through dental records,
DNA,or finger prints. Finally,Lord,prepare the hearts of the family
members as they receive word of the recovery of their loved one.
Bless each of us now as we depart in your peace. Amen. And then,
speaking to those assembled:May the Lord bless you and keep you.
May the Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious unto
you.May the Lord look upon you with favor and give you His peace.
Amen.”Then the remains would be returned to the body bag and
transferred to a morgue vehicle that would take the remains to Belle-
vue Hospital.


[Four months later]
Christmas Day was quiet since there was a crew of reduced size
working that day. There were remains found and prayers and bless-
ings to be spoken but there was also time to visit the officers work-
ing the perimeter. These visits usually involved helping to answer
the myriad questions the officers were being asked.This was one of
only three day shifts I ever worked.During the evenings,there was
more time to talk and support the officers one on one.

The visits to the perimeter also allowed time to pray with the oc-
casional civilian who wished to pray the Lord’s Prayer or wished to
speak to the chaplain.One man (“Jim”) came up wishing to go to
The Pit to pay his respects to his wife who had died on September
11.He had made no other visit to the site since the attack. I ac-
companied the officer who took the man to the edge of The Pit
where he called out his wife’s name several times.Before we left,the
man asked if I would perform a committal as his wife was on one of
the floors that had been directly hit by the plane and he assumed no
remains would ever be found.He was certain this would be her final
resting place. The man spoke fondly of his wife and their lives as a
young,Christian couple.He was certain that this was the way he
wanted to bid her farewell.The officer,the man,and I shared many
tears and hugs.Even without knowing the final place where his wife
would remain,this man was confident that God had taken care of
her already.Hope? Healing? Yes. The Christ child,born in Bethle-
hem,was this man’s Savior and his wife’s Savior. A blessed Christ-
mas be yours, “Jim.” (p.14)


[Nine months later]
Nearly to the day,that’s what happened over nine months. That
was life for many of us at Ground Zero. While “normal”life was
also maintained during this time,it was almost as if the two worlds,
the “real”world and Ground Zero,tried to become a puzzle that
would eventually fit together perfectly.Sometimes,that seemed to
happen.Sometimes allowing the worlds to coexist was simply bet-
ter,each influencing the other,yet both so extremely different that
the fit is never going to be perfect.That is the way it should be.Ter-
ror should never be welcomed as an equal in our lives.Yet,in the
midst of terror,in the midst of death,how beautiful that the love of
God is so welcomed.Some have trivialized some of this by saying,
“After all,there are no atheists in foxholes.”I disagree. There are
those who do not know God.There are still others who were more
receptive than ever to the message of the gospel in the midst of all
that happened and continues to happen in their lives.Christians be-
came stronger,rallied around the cross. Marginal Christians had the
opportunity to express their doubts and to wrestle anew with
thoughts of spirituality.Chaplains had opportunities to mature and
practice their vocation in a new and profound environment.

“O Lord,Thy little angel send, Whene’er my mortal life shall end,To bear my
soul to Heaven! My body in its chamber sleep, All torment do Thou distant
keep,Till Thy last call be given! And then from death awaken me,That these
poor eyes their Lord may see,See,Son of God, Thy glorious face,My Savior
and my fount of grace! Lord Jesus Christ,O hear Thou me,O hear Thou me,
Thee will I praise eternally.”The Passion According to Saint John, J.S.Bach,#38
Chorale.

Readings for Next Week:

	14						Isaiah 15:1-18:7 Galatians 1:1-24 Psalm 58:1-11 Proverbs 23:12
15	Isaiah 19:1-21:17 Galatians 2:1-16 Psalm 59:1-17 Proverbs 23:13-14							16	Isaiah 22:1-24:23 Galatians 2:17-3:9 Psalm 60:1-12 Proverbs 23:15-16
17	Isaiah 25:1-28:13 Galatians 3:10-22 Psalm 61:1-8 Proverbs 23:17-18							18	Isaiah 28:14-30:11 Galatians 3:23-4:31 Psalm 62:1-12 Proverbs 23;19-21
19	Isaiah 30:12-33:9 Galatians 5:1-12 Psalm 63:1-11 Proverbs 23:22							20	Isaiah 33:10-36:22 Galatians 5:13-26 Psalm 64:1-10 Proverbs 23:23