I was sitting in a dentist's chair on September 11, 2001, at 9:01 a.m. The news was a fragment between swirling suction and the whir of a high-speed drill. But by the time I had reached the bookkeeper to settle up my account, pictures of the horror were on the waiting room television.
"How could anyone do such a thing?" asked the young lady with several ear rings.
"This was done by a terrorist," I said. "And there'll likely be more before the day is through," I added.
As I made my way to my car where the Palm VIIx was waiting with whatever news I could download, I reflected on my words in to the bookkeeper.
I took grim comfort in the words of Jeremiah: "the heart is desperately wicked. Who can know it?". My heart sank as I realized a second airplane was bringing these words into sharp profile against the New York skyline. Grief and weeping for "the slain of my people" would likely come later. Much later.
Each of us as pastors played out a public role as well as felt our private heartaches yesterday. From my vantage point I saw many of us in numerous cities organize impromptu prayer vigils. Hospital chaplains not only comforted their own staff and patients but called other hospitals closer to the scene and asked if they could help. By later afternoon Church World Service had put out a second bulletin to channel disaster relief and many judicatories offered official prayers.
By Sunday when each of us steps into the pulpit we will know much more about the details of this tragic day. Already the names of crew members on those flights are emerging along with the first fragments of information about the heroism of first-responders. By Sunday our nation may have begun to make an official response to those responsible for these heinous and cowardly actions.
We have time to reflect on our public response to these tragedies. Most likely our public response will be shaped by our unique theology. Yet I would urge us to allow these events to inform our theology. These events illustrate how broken our world is in some quarters. These events also illustrate how selfless many people can be toward total strangers. As the depth of our losses become more explicit and the nature of our response more clear, there are some areas for us to consider as pastors and preachers.
People will have a need to express shock and to make meaning out of the horror. Like few other events, this day will echo forever in our national soul. We should not underestimate the need for people to grapple with this horror - and to feel as though they have no frame of reference to understand the magnitude of evil that fuels such tragedies. When the earth heaves and the sky rains fire, we assume there is a word from the Lord.
People have a need to connect with loved ones. This is instinctive and presents some occasions for reconciliation. Events of this magnitude completely overwhelm the petty annoyances that can fuel interpersonal conflict. The horror of a disaster reminds us of how precious life is, especially the life of those nearest us. Yet the inability to reach someone near ground zero can also create additional anxiety in our hearts. It will be helpful if we can assist people in articulating their anxiety as love rather than as additional annoyance.
People will express a legitimate desire for retaliation. Our various theologies as pastors will likely inform how we interpret, listen privately and speak publicly on this matter. It is certainly paramount to help maintain public calm. But we must understand the nature of the evil our nation now faces: this is the national equivalent of home invasion thugs breaking down the door to your home and murdering your family in front of your eyes. Pastors who use this tragedy as an occasion to castigate this nation are likely to have their effectiveness become part of the collateral damage in this tragedy.
People have a need to transform shock and anger into help. Last night Mayor Guliana of New York City expressed it best, "we have enough volunteers for right now." This is an amazing part of the American psyche - we are a generous people who reach out in times of disaster. In addition to offering people concrete avenues for their action, it is imperative that we publicly acknowledge the generosity of the nation.
People have a need to pray. As we saw during Desert Storm, there is likely to be an increase in Sunday's attendance. The impromptu ecumenical vigils and work place prayer meetings underscore the primary religious sentiment of the American people. Since this tragedy will continue to unfold, our public prayers will be helpful if we continue to address the multiple needs that emerge: healing of those directly affected, wisdom for those making decisions on responding, effectiveness and safety of personnel who carry out our response, justice for those who committed this horror and mercy for all of us.
Somewhere Henri Nouwen tells the story of serving as a chaplain on an oil tanker that was entering a hellish storm at sea. Overwhelmed by his own feeling of helplessness, he first went to the bridge and then seeing that he had no guidance to offer the captain struggling to control the ship, he turned in despair to leave.
"Stay here, chaplain," he recalls the captain saying. "This is one time I really need you."
In times such as this we do not fully comprehend the strength people need from us or see from us. But it is not necessary that we comprehend this strength. It is necessary only for us to stand nearby as a visible reminder that the Lord of Heaven has not abandoned the people to the darkness seeking to overwhelm them. May it be so for each of you today and throughout these unfolding events.
Donald D. Denton, Jr., D. Min.
Virginia Institute of Pastoral Care
Richmond, Virginia