Blog on the Lillypad
Thursday, September 11, 2003
 | When our world changed forever Part 7
When I got home from work on Friday, September 14, I again did what most Americans did that week the moment they walked in the door---I turned on the television. I caught the beginning of the service at the Washington National Cathedral for the National Day of Prayer and Remembrance. This was an inter-faith service---something that Christian Fundamentalists are supposed to shun. I make no compromise in my belief that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is the only way to God, and that salvation comes by His atoning work alone. Yet I want a country that has freedom of religion. So that means, in times of national tragedy, that we must have memorials that represent a broad spectrum of religious beliefs |
And in spite of a conscientious effort at diversity, the service was close enough to Christian in character that I found it meaningful. Indeed, it was worthwhile to listen to representatives of other faiths speak, for they had a lot of wisdom to offer. All truth is God's Truth. All ancient writings that have spoken to people over the centuries are worth considering, even if we listen with certain reservations in place.
 | And apart from the religious import, there was, first, the grandeur of the national sorrow, which brought me to tears again. We Americans are a pretty jolly, informal, spontaneous bunch. But in the sorrow of the nation, our grandeur and dignity as a nation were apparent. It was rending and yet somehow beautiful to see white-haired, strong profiled men in uniform, with their wives, holding their wives' hands to comfort them. It was even more rending to see some of the men---hearty and bluff fellows--crying with their wives over the deeply personal losses they had suffered. There were young people, also in uniform, in the congregation, and many of them had tears on their faces.
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The soloist was both beautiful in her carriage and voice and also tremendously sobering as she sang "America the Beautiful." It was like a call to everybody to remember what we are; who we are, and what we have always treasured---the wild beauty of this country and the wildness in our hearts that has always reveled in our freedom. There's even a grandeur in American optimism and inventiveness, if you look at it in the right light. We are wild, hilarious, generous, even stupid at times, but always free and optimistic. To see the nation's leaders so sobered caused me to lose a lot of the fear that had been hanging over me, but it made me even more sad.
 | Ever since the morning of 9/11, all the news stations had been scrambling to keep us updated on who had done this. And by Friday it was looking like the Taliban of Afghanistan was behind it. They had issued strong denials, but likewise they had refused to hold Osama bin Laden accountable for his actions, or to allow investigation of him. I knew, as I watched that sober service, that not only had those people died on Tuesday morning, but more people were going to die. Some of those young people sitting in that crowd may leave and never return to our free shores. And certainly, elsewhere in the world, there were poor people who had never known freedom and did not comprehend this struggle. And some of them would be caught in the crossfire between us and our attackers. And they would die, too.
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I knew we had to go to war, and I favored it, for I could not endure the thought of something like this ever happening again. But it is the nature of war to be horrible. It is the nature of war that the innocent, though you try to limit casualties, will die. It is the nature of war to inflict misery. Nobody can get around it; nobody can stop war from being exactly what it is. And I knew as I watched that service that now we would have to go to war, and we would have to kill and be killed.
 | On Monday morning, I had been innocent about a lot of things. I had imagined peace was a way of life---so much so that I never even knew I was assuming it. On Tuesday my world had changed. And here, on Friday, I thought, I was watching my nation prepare for war, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Not so strange as Lisa Beamer, I thought. I had seen her the night before during President Bush's address to the nation. On Monday, she had just been a housewife. On Tuesday, she had kissed her husband goodbye and two hours later had become a widow. On Thursday, she stood up before Congress and the nation and was applauded as a national hero, an icon of what we all suffered. How her life had changed, all within so short a space!
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There was a lot of Bible reading during the service, and the hymns were classic hymns of Christian cathedrals: an Appalachian rendition of the 23rd Psalm that I have listened to often on one of my Hale and Wilder CDs, sung by one of the national choirs, and Martin Luther's "A Mighty Fortress is our God," and others. The camera panned across the congregation, and many people were weeping: Husbands, wives, and their children in little knots of grief.
 | At last Billy Graham, now elderly and needing an arm to lean on as he climbed up to the pulpit, issued the keynote message. He was frank and humble and honest. He said a few things that caught my attention, one that evil itself is a mystery, citing 2 Thessalonians 2:7. I had never thought about that before. I have always thought Billy Graham not forthright enough in the clear articulation of the Gospel when confronted by those who oppose it. Yet I respected him very much then, for it was clear that he was burdened by the sorrows that had hurt us, and sincere in trying to speak of Christ.
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But after Bush issued the final address (which surprised me), the choir and orchestra began that familiar tune, "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," and as the recessional started, the grimness hit, not only me as I watched, but the audience as well. That martial hymn conveyed it to everybody. We would walk out those doors as a nation, and as a nation we would go to war. And now we would have to kill and unleash a fury against another country. I saw in my country's leaders and military officers a strong belief that war was necessary, and a powerful grief because war was necessary. When you're at a memorial for the dead, how do you feel any gladness that you will soon put other people to grief? |  |
It was a moment of grand sorrow and grimness. The future was an enormous weight of unknown factors. I put my hands together and prayed for wisdom for our leaders, and I asked God to keep us from errors in judgement.
