"Nor must we ever do evil, that good may come
of it."
(-- William Penn)
A newspaper column by the Rev. John Morgan
(June,2002) Ground zero is quiet. The sounds of workers and
machines are gone. What remains of the terrible events of September
11th-911-are curious onlookers, their silence deafening-and the lingering
sense most of us feel about what happened there.
However sad the events leading up to the destruction of life in New
York City, afterwards, a new sense began to emerge that out of our diversity,
we
are a nation, not just a collection of people who happen to inhabit
the same
continent. We mourned together, and nothing brings people closer than
a
common loss.
Anyone who has survived a tornado or flood or other natural disaster
looks back not just at the tragedy, but at the remarkable stories of
people banding together to help-persons who might have walked by one
another at
other times. The strength of the human spirit is never so obvious as
when
others need help--or when you do.
But as time passes, people forget and are lulled back into the illusion
that they are islands unto themselves, separated by race or income or
ethnic
group. People retreat to their own homes, barely know who lives next
door.
What would happen if we really understood a simple concept: That
all life, ourselves included, is interconnected, that even when a butterfly
falls
in China, vibrations are sent around the world? Then, we would be very
careful of harming any life, because we would hurt ourselves.
Chief Noah Sealth put it this way: "This we know: All things
are
connected like the blood which unites one family….Whatever befalls
the earth
befalls the sons and daughters of the earth. We did not weave the web
of
life; we are merely a strand in it."
There were signs of hope arising from the ashes of the towers in
New York City. We found new heroes-fire and police personnel who risked
their
lives for others, a chaplain who died trying to reach others, nurses
and hospital personnel who labored with courage. We learned something
about the
human spirit-that in the midst of destruction it can show a remarkable
generosity and strength.
We learned something else, too, from the rubble. In the ashes,
it didn't make much difference any longer about the color of your skin
or your
ethnic origins. What mattered was the loss of a single human being.
We
recognized ourselves in the grieving and the acts of courage.
I have heard people tell others to "get over" a loss. I
realize that
excessive grieving can be harmful to one's emotional health, but I also
understand that when one losses someone important, the loss may feel
less painful over time, but it never really leaves. Losses are like
that-they linger in us as reminders of what is really important-life,
as fragile and marvelous as ever.
There is no way to change what happened September 11. But
what we can change is how we deal with life now, realizing how precarious
it can be. We can plant a garden, hug a child, forgive a friend, reach
out to someone we don't know, help one person, refrain from responding
to others by inflicting pain on them, volunteer at a food bank or emergency
housing shelter, spend more time with our family, join a cause that
seeks to heal the wounds of separation, and take time to care for ourselves.
