Day: September 11, 2011

Homilies, PNCC

Solemnity of Brotherly Love

First reading: Jeremiah 31:31-34
Psalm: Ps 85:9-14
Epistle: 1 John 4:17-21
Gospel: Luke 10:25-37

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”

Stress:

I stressed myself out this week. Beyond all the weather related catastrophes around us we saw the tragedy of a father killing his two little girls. We recall the events that occurred on September 11th, ten years ago today. More than stress — sadness and perhaps despair. God’s presence seemingly unknown, unrecognizable among all this.

I was a few minutes late for work, I was driving in with my radio tuned to National Public Radio. I had just pulled into the parking lot at work and heard the news flash. My first through was of a small plane hitting the Word Trade Center. That thought was horrific enough. Then the events of the day unfolded in all their ugliness. I thought of my coworkers in the building next door to the World Trade Center. A month or two before I sat in their offices overlooking the loading docks at the Trade Center.

Renee and I ended up in church that evening. Adam was two years old, going on three. Victoria would be born in two months. Stunned and seeking solace. I needed to know that in the midst of evil, in the midst of seeming emptiness, I, my friends, coworkers, and family were not alone.

I needed to know that there is no place empty of God. I needed to know that even in the darkest and ugliest of places, God was there.

Irony:

My stress was compounded by the irony. Today, our Holy Church celebrates the Solemnity of Brotherly Love. Oddly, and ironically, the readings for the Ordinary Sunday follow a similar theme. It is Jesus’ instruction to love great enough to forgive.

Ironic, brotherly love and forgiveness. I get to speak on God’s desire for those things while we stand with these painful memories and react. Tears fall, we get choked up. Maybe we get angry. We mourn, we question. We ask, that age old and most powerful of questions, “God, where were you?”

We need to know, as I needed to know on that day, that God was there, that He is here.

Words:

We could read these readings a thousand times. From the Ordinary or from the Solemnity. Love, sacrifice, forgive, forgive over and over. High minded thoughts. Worthy and beautiful thoughts. The Good Samaritan – he was there in the firefighters and police who offered their lives, in the clergy who ministered, in those brave citizens who sacrificed so others might live. In the care givers, civil servants, and construction workers who tried to piece together what had been broken. All loving their neighbor.

God was there. In the midst of this. God was there because His word came alive in the hearts that gave of themselves. His call to act was heeded.

Reduced:

Looking back, and at the events of the past few weeks, we might allow ourselves to forget that God was there. It seems so dark, so dark that God has been blotted out.

In this dark place it seems that God’s words become no more than a droning sound. Just another series of platitudes discussed on CNN by some talking heads. Nice thoughts, but let’s get on with it. God disappears either because we will him away, or because we become complacent.

Others find it easy to fix God. They don’t hear His voice. Those words about forgiveness, fraternal correction, self sacrifice — that applies to family and friends only, let’s kill, kill, kill the enemy. Who is the enemy? Oh, them!

The further we get in our arms length relationships the less God’s words ring true, or apply to others.

In a world where God is reduced and seen as less present, where He is fixed to suit whims, where He is pushed into the corner and made not applicable to to those we do not know, it would seem that His presence is absent. Yet, God is present. God was there. God is here.

Picture:

Let’s picture ourselves in a big, crowded room. Tons of people, noisy too. Right up close to we have our family and friends. We can see them clearly. We can hear them. We can feel them near, and we feel safe. This is our corner of the room. Those further away, we know some of them. Community members, church folks, co-workers, we’ve seen them at a local fishing spot, on the golf course, at Hannaford. We kind of hear them. We can still see them pretty clearly.

Go further out. Those folks, on the other side of the room? Don’t know them. They are in the room, but they are truly the unknown. They look different, we can’t hear or understand them. They are far off, and to connect to them; we’ll never get there.

Suddenly, across the room, one of them keels over. Doesn’t look good. Nobody’s doing anything either. They are out there, alone, on the floor. They are surrounded by darkness, down on the floor. People are pressing in to fill the void.

Today’s question, the eternal question: “What is our heart urging us to do?” What is our heart calling us to do? What is God calling us to do?

How do we feel when we hear God’s call? It makes me a little nauseous. It does, because I know I am sinful. I know I hear the call to cross the room, but sometimes I don’t want to.

Small sins vs. the Call:

Only some will cross the room. Few will rush into a burning tower. Very few will crash through a cockpit door and fly a plane into the ground to save others. Few will grab the gun out of a crazed father’s hand.

So we need to reflect. What is our intuition? What does God call us to do?

Our failures begin with the smallest of sins. It starts with simple rejection; rejecting God’s call and presence. The call to brotherhood. It starts when we say no to our brothers and sisters. That’s where terror start. That’s where crazed killers start. That’s where every form of evil starts. It starts when we close our heart and our mind to God calling us to act, to His being present. It starts when we don’t think God is there, God is listening, God cares, and God is calling us to get up and go.

Big courage:

It takes big courage and hard work to see God in others, to get up and go. In the black smoke, in the cries, in that person across the room, down on the floor. It takes courage to see God there and to act.

This big courage is our heroism. When our hearts are pulled to love, to reach out, to care, to intervene, to spend an evening, to cry or laugh with our neighbor, with our brother or sister. This is big courage, to see past stereotypes and every negative thought. To see only God’s call to love, to forgive, to lend a hand, to be a martyr for love.

We must die every day. We must die to our wants and needs. We must die to saying no. We must reject that little voice that says, don’t bother, its too far, costs too much, is too hard; she or he are too much of a pain.

Yes, we will die to sin so that God’s presence can shine even in the darkest of times. We will die so that others may live. We will die to saying no and live for saying yes to love. We will stop letting God handle it and live in the big courage God has given us to go and do.

If any one says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.

Amen.

Perspective, Poetry, , ,

Reflections – 10 Years Later

From John Guzlowski, his poem Sept 13, 2001 found in his post: 9/11 — Ten Years Later

I’ve written a number of poems about 9/11 over the years. The first one was written a couple days of 9/11. That poem talked about how I wanted an end to 9/11. It didn’t happen then, and it hasn’t happened since…

Ted Monica, a fellow former seminarian at Wadhams Hall, and an Episcopal priest, offers his music: Sisters and Brothers.

To the Children of Emma Lazarus – a poem for 9/11 by Konrad Tademar

From Howard Community College on Danuta Hinc’s book To Kill the Other: A question of killing: Howard County author searches for an answer

Five days. That’s all it took after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, for Danuta Hinc to realize that she needed to write a book about how such a thing could happen.

“I realized that I needed to know what leads people to make such extreme choices,” says Hinc, who teaches professional writing at the University of Maryland College Park. “And the next question I asked was: Am I capable of killing someone?”

On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, Hinc stood in the living room of her Ellicott City townhouse, riveted to the TV screen, unable to sit down, unable to comprehend what she was witnessing.

“Like everyone else, I thought it was an accident. When the second plane hit, I realized to my horror that it was not,” says Hinc, who is in her early 40s and grew up in Poland under Communist oppression.

“My first thought was ‘They must be so organized,’ ” she remembers. Then she realized she didn’t know a thing about them.

“I hated them with all my heart. But I didn’t like that I hated them,” she says.

What eventually came of that rush of tangled emotions and questions, some 10 years later, is Hinc’s book, “To Kill the Other.” It’s a fictional story of a boy who grows up to become a terrorist. It’s not about al-Qaeda; it’s not about ideology. It’s about the choices human beings make.

She spent three and a half years researching and writing the story, which she first wrote in Polish. Then she spent another two-and-a-half years translating it into English. At the time, she was an adjunct professor of English and religion at Howard Community College.

“To Kill the Other” follows the journey of Taher, a sensitive Egyptian boy, from the time he was 7 to his presence as a terrorist on the first plane to hit the World Trade Center…

[AMAZONPRODUCT=1617390194]

Mark Skinner reflects for More Magazine: 9/11 Changed My Life

“I spent so many years doing what I ‘should’ do,” says Mary Skinner, who went from financial exec to award-winning filmmaker.

For 20 years, Mary Skinner climbed the corporate ladder in financial communications, at one point working on the 106th floor of Two World Trade Center, before moving to San Francisco to be close to her family. In the months leading up to 9/11, her life was in limbo. Living with her parents, she wrestled with an internal conflict about her professional future. “I spent so many years doing what I ‘should’ do,” she says. She wanted to return to New York, and even flew there that summer for an interview with a financial services start-up. When the ‘no-thanks’ letter arrived, her disappointment was sharp.

But as the catastrophe unfolded, Skinner’s hesitation disappeared. “I knew friends were caught on certain floors and didn’t make it,” she says. “I felt: I need to be there right now. I’ve got to go back. I had devoted my talent, heart and brain cells to helping somebody make a little more money on currency arbitrage. In the face of what was going on in the world, I felt like, that’s a sin.”

Two months later, Skinner boarded a plane for New York – without a job or a place to live, and for the first time in her professional life, without a plan.

She found temp office work, reconnected with old friends and took writing classes. She enrolled in a documentary filmmaking class at the New School, wanting to make a film about her Polish-born, Catholic mother, Klotylda, who was orphaned and imprisoned during World War II and cared for by strangers afterwards. Klotylda wouldn’t agree to be her subject. Haunted by her mother’s experiences, Skinner continued with her research, uncovering more stories of children saved by heroic strangers…

From Jim Wallis at Sojourners: 10 Years After 9/11: The Good and the Bad

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was at home in Washington, D.C. getting ready to go to Sojourners’ office. I was upstairs listening to the news on NPR when I heard the first confusing report of a plane crashing into the south tower of the World Trade Center. I immediately called downstairs to Joy and asked her to turn on the television to see what was going on. Moments later, as we ate breakfast together with our three-year-old son Luke, we watched the second plane strike the north tower. I still remember my first response to Joy, “This is going to be bad, very bad,” I said.

Of course, I meant more than just the damage to the Twin Towers and the lives lost, which became far greater than any of us imagined at first. Rather, my first and deepest concern was what something like this could do to our our nation’s soul. I was afraid of how America would respond to a terrorist attack of this scope.

But as the Towers collapsed, and the suffering of this horrible event became increasingly clear in the hours and days that followed, other parts of the American soul revealed themselves — the heroic responses of the first responders, and a city and nation of people taking care of each other. As ordinary citizens gave their lives for strangers, they became our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers. In the days that followed the 9/11 attacks, the stories of pain, loss, and self-sacrifice brought Joy and me to tears several times. The suffering of many led to the service of many more.

For a moment, the world’s last remaining superpower was vulnerable, and we all felt it. In Washington, people fled from downtown D.C., walking and running right past our house, and gathered to pray at places such as Sojourners’ office. Joy helped Luke set up a little water station, as people frantically rushed by our house.

In our sudden sense of vulnerability we were now, and perhaps for the first time, like most of the world, where vulnerability is an accepted part of being human. And in those first days following 9/11, America, not the terrorists, had the high ground. The world did not identify with those who cruelly and murderously decided to take innocent lives in response to their grievances — both real and imagined. Instead, the world identified with a suffering America — even the front cover of the French newspaper Le Monde ran the headline, “We are all Americans now.”

But it was Washington’s response that I was most worried about. Within a short period of time, the official reaction to terrorism would simply be defined as war — a decade of it — resulting in many more innocent casualties than on September 11, 2001. In response to America’s own suffering, many others in Afghanistan, Iraq, and around the world would now suffer — all in the name of our war on terrorism. The opportunity for deeper understanding, reflection, and redirection would elude us as we sought to erase our vulnerability with the need to demonstrate our superior force and power. This was done quite easily in the early days of both our new wars. But now, we see that the longest series of wars in American history has failed to resolve or reverse the causes of the violence that struck us, or to make us safer. They just made it all worse.

The world expected and would have supported a focused and sustained effort to pursue and bring this small band of criminals to justice. But these last 10 years of manipulated and corrupted intelligence, endless war, practices and policies of torture, secret armies of assassination, global violations of human rights, indiscriminate violence with countless civilian casualties, and trillions of dollars wasted caused America to lose the high ground long ago. The arrogance of American power was our only response to the both the brutality and complexity of terrorism. Perhaps, this arrogance is most recently and brazenly exhibited in former Vice-President Dick Cheney’s new book tour, where he boasts of having absolutely no regrets for any of the momentous decisions he took part in. These are decisions which have made the world an even more divided, polarized, dehumanized, and dangerous place — 10 years after September 11, 2001.

But, fortunately, the official and failed response of Washington to the terrible tragedy of 9/11 has not been the only reponse. A new generation of Christians has asked how Jesus would respond to these same events. Many of them would agree with what Methodist Bishop Will Willimon recently said in the evangelical magazine Christianity Today: “American Christians may look back upon our response to 9/11 as our greatest Christological defeat … when our people felt vulnerable, they reached for the flag instead of the cross.” As many of those who have grown up in the decade since 9/11 confront the conflicts of their world, they are reaching for different things than their government. They are forging alternative responses to issues of injustice and violence, and rejecting the terrorism and war sequence of Washington’s twisted and failed moral logic.

And despite the hateful diatribes of fundamentalist leaders in all our religious traditions, other pastors have decided to love their neighbors, and even their enemies in response to Jesus’ call. Their stories are slowly being told, from American neighborhoods where Muslims have moved in, to conflict areas around the world where faith is being used for bridge building and healing, instead of more revenge killings. Christian leaders are sharing meals, fasting, and prayer with Muslim leaders. Some have defended each other’s congregations and homes in the face of heated threats and rhetoric. While differences between faith traditions are not being glossed over, the nature of a loving and reconciling God is being courageously affirmed across religious lines. In all of this, we are saying that government responses need not define our own…

Art, Christian Witness, PNCC, , , ,

Art and Prayer for September 11th

World Trade Center III, Franciszek C. Kulon

Almighty God, by Whom our fathers won their liberties of old; grant that we and all people of this land may be strong to maintain our freedom against the assaults of those who by aggression seek to enslave us to their will. Guide, we beseech Thee, our President and all to whom has been committed the government of this nation, giving them special gifts of wisdom and understanding, that in defense of our liberties they may be instruments of lasting peace for all mankind. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen. — A Prayer for the Nation from A Book of Devotions and Prayers According to the Use of the Polish National Catholic Church.

Art, Christian Witness, PNCC,

Art for the Solemnity of Brotherly Love

Jesus with a Friend, Krystyna Kuś-Kilichowska

And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”
He said to him, “What is written in the law? How do you read?” And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have answered right; do this, and you will live.”