we all responded differently at seminary - those who were angry, those who were sad, those pushing for reconciliation, those numb and empty. emotions ran high. my time in seminary played out almost exclusively with the terror of this event - and the horrors of the invasion of iraq. we fought with each other over how, why, when, and where to respond; how we as believers were called into action. professors said it had not been as political, or as personal, on campus since vietnam. 9/11 has always and will always have a deeply religious context for me, as it was so intertwined with my own developing sense of call to ministry.
so, a few weeks ago when the lawrence journal world called to ask if i would write a small response for their faith forum about 9/11 i was intrigued to attempt it. the prompt - ' nine years later, how does 9/11 resonate in a religious context?' - made me realize that we are still having the heated discussions i was privy to 9 years ago in decatur. what is the appropriate response? as an american? as a christian? given the vocal discrimination and acts of violence covered on national media, and the ideology of hatred spouted on radios and tvs across this nation that under girds and supports such actions i felt i could not let this opportunity pass. coming also, as the request did, on the heels of my colleague preaching a powerful sermon on the topic (redeeming the time), i felt it was my chance to join the conversation.
One could argue that 9/11 no longer resonates in a political or social context, but only in a religious one. Nine years later many have forgotten the lessons learned in its aftermath. In those moments we saw the worst of human nature yet responded with the best — daring rescue workers, caring for strangers, willingness to help. Sadly, we abandoned those moments, and hatred, anger and discrimination have gradually become the more dominate response.
Sept. 11 yields a paradox of faith. It needs the best in us but invites the worst in us. We blame others in the name of religion and stereotypically attack those who believe in a different way. It challenges Christianity’s call to embrace the stranger, care for the foreigner, and to love and pray for our enemies. It pushes the boundaries of our ability to understand — and follow — the religious texts we claim to hold so dear. It pushes us to the very things we abhor in others. It blurs the line of our call to love the other — instead we find ourselves burning holy books and perpetrating violence against places of worship. We turn an act of terror perpetrated against Americans of all faiths into a veritable war between religions.
President Bush reminded us in a speech to Islamic leaders, “All Americans must recognize that the face of terror is not the true face of Islam. It is a faith based upon love and not hate.” We would hope that Imams say the same about Christianity. Yet, many of us have forgotten Bush’s prescient, powerful words. Many see America as taking the seemingly easier path — one of hatred, violence and division.
A powerful aspect of Christianity is its admonition to love that which is different, to protect those on the edges of our world; socially, politically and religiously. Jesus reminds us that the greatest commandment is to love God and to love neighbor. Psalm 67 points us toward a future promise when all nations gather under the banner of God’s justice and saving power. Perhaps on this ninth anniversary we, as people of faith, have the opportunity to live the words we claim, and to practice what we preach. We must faithfully celebrate our connection with our Muslim sisters and brothers, and with all God’s children. May it be so.
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