By Heather A.M. Sinclair
Sixteen years later and it still catches my attention. Morning or night, when I glance at a digital clock and see “9:11,” I remember that tragic day. I remember where I was. I remember the stories of so many others.
Do I see that hour and minute more often, or am I simply more aware when I do see it?
Remember the days after 9/11/01? There was immense grief and pain, fear and sadness, questions and criticism, but there was also a great sense of community, compassion and connection. Churches opened their doors for prayer and shelter. Volunteers flooded in from around the country. American flags were flown and worn. People waved and smiled and checked in with each other. We came together in grief, but we came together as a community with hope.
But then, gradually, I began to notice some of the flags in car windows fading to pink and light blue. People drifted back to their usual Sunday morning non-church activities. Grief moved through its natural stages, changing, lessening, but never fully disappearing. Of course, we will never forget, but the ways in which we remember are transformed over time.
What I wonder, as I reflect upon how we have changed, and how we have stayed the same, over the past 16 years, is: Do we have to experience a crisis to transform our ways? Do we have to experience a tragedy to treat our neighbors with compassion? Do we have to witness unspeakable acts of violence to find our voices to speak out against injustice? Do we have to endure a hurricane to recognize that so many live in vulnerable conditions every day?
There were a couple of stories out of Houston in the days following the unfathomable flooding of Hurricane Harvey that told of people linking together, arm in arm, hand in hand, to create a human chain in order to rescue an elderly man, a pregnant woman, a stranger in need from the peril of a raging flood. I don’t know these people or the exact context of their situation, but one look at the photos shows a group diverse in age and size and skin color. They appear to be a randomly formed team offering a life-saving act of kindness. They saw a need and they jumped at the opportunity to offer help, presumably putting aside their own safety and well-being.
One of my favorite Bible stories has always been the story of a paralyzed man who is lowered down through the roof of a home in order to reach front row access to the healing power of Jesus. When he could not get there himself, others did everything within their capacity to get him where he needed to be. They tore open a roof! They lowered their friend by ropes on a pallet. They risked the whole house caving in (never mind being turned away by an upset homeowner!) because of their courageous endeavors. But they would not give up until he received the care he needed. Jesus praised their efforts, and healed him.
Neighbors, let us never forget. Never forget the lives that were lost and the sacrifices that were made. Never forget the ways we responded in those first days with passion and compassion. Never forget that every day, not only the days of crises and tragedy, are days for random acts of kindness and peace. Never forget that we have the capacity to do more good than we can possibility imagine when we come together in unity. Never forget.
The Rev. Heather A. M. Sinclair is pastor of First United Methodist Church Greenwich.
