9/11 Again

9/11 Again

I remember where I was.  Both the planes had hit the towers before I set off for my first meeting with the UU minister's cluster in the northern part of the district.  In the car I kept the news on, knowing that something was wrong, but not knowing how terrible it would be.  We ministers drifted into the meeting at our Mt. Kisco building with varying levels of knowledge about the other planes and the collapse of the first tower.  We dragged a TV into the sanctuary, and so we saw the coverage of the collapse of the second tower.  We made phone calls back to our offices or to other people and soon we began to drift off, needing to be someplace where we might learn more about how this was going to play out in our own communities.  The memories of that morning are both vivid and blurred.  I don't know how that can be.

On the first anniversary, I lighted the chalice in the sanctuary and sat in there through the times when the planes hit and the towers fell.  It was one of those strange days when the roof makes a lot of noise.  The high wind most of the day could explain the pings and creaks from above, but still it was frightening.   I refused to give voice to the fear that there might be another attack on that anniversary, but it was in my mind.  The rest of the day was busy, with a 9/11 service at Westchester Meadows and an early evening interfaith service in downtown White Plains.

I've spent some time this morning sitting next to the lighted chalice.  The trees are moving in the wind again today, but this time the roof is silent.  Soon I will need to be on the road to attend a committee meeting for a Westchester organization.  I'm glad about that -- glad that we are focussing less and less on this anniversary as the years pass.  But still I think we should take a few moments on this day, to remember the loss and the fear we felt, and to vow that we will stand by each other if such a thing should happen again.  We were going to change, weren't we?  We were going to be more open, more helpful, more compassionate.  We can still do that.

The sanctuary will be open and the chalice lighted until 6 p.m.