On September 10, 2001, I was leaving the main campus of John Jay College of Criminal Justice, on 59th Street and 10th Ave., to walk to the N train stop on 57th Street and 7th Ave. As I left the building, it was a typically hot summer day in NYC. I can feel the sticky air and even smell the streets right now as I remember this walk. After I had walked one block, a sudden summertime thunderstorm erupted, and it began to downpour. I started to run towards my subway stop, and as I was running, I saw a sign that said “Guinness.” I quickly ran under the awning and had the realization that it was my birthday! My 21st birthday, and I could avoid this storm and have a pint, a win-win situation for sure! After the storm passed, the rest of my commute home was typical and not at all memorable.

The next day I was preparing to head back into Manhattan to attend class. As I was getting ready, my father called me. He was already at work and heard a rumor a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I was not immediately alarmed, as it was not uncommon to hear a news report of a small plane hitting a building in NYC. It happened on occasion, to which most New Yorkers would roll their eyes and continue with their day. I turned on NY 1 news and saw one of the towers burning. As I told my father what I was seeing and described what was happening, the second plane hit live on air. I remember screaming into the phone, “another plane hit, dad; I think we’re under attack.” After I hung up with my father, I walked up the hill that, as a child, I always climbed to watch the Macy’s 4th of July fireworks. As I reached the peak of the hill, I could see with my own eyes the towers burning; what seemed unreal was made real when I saw it with my own eyes.

I returned home and continued to watch the coverage on the news. I remember watching the towers collapsing. I remember crying and being very angry. I remember walking downstairs and placing the American flag in our flag holder in the front of the house. I remember by sundown that day, every single home in my neighborhood had an American flag swaying in the summer breeze in front of their house.

One of the most incredible memories I have from September 11, 2001, is taking a walk with my grandfather, who had advanced Alzheimer’s disease; he was anxious, as he usually was in the evenings. I asked him if he wanted to go for a walk. As we walked around the block, he had a sudden sense of clarity. It was almost like the disease took a little break. He said to me, “something happened today, didn’t it?” I answered, “yeah, grandpa, we got attacked; a lot of good people died today.” He stopped, looked at me with his deep blue eyes full of confidence, and said, “don’t worry, kid, it’s going to be alright.” We finished our walk, and he returned to his chair, where he would spend most of his time. I share my experience of 9-11 because 20 years ago in NY and Washington, there were millions of individual stories made that day that will always be remembered. And unfortunately, 2,751 individual’s stories ended on that day.

Being a New Yorker, I grew up with the beautiful Manhattan skyline my entire life. The understanding of the New York skyline for a native New Yorker is that it is a natural wonder, like the Colorado Rockies or Niagara Falls. The skyline of Manhattan only grows; it never shrinks. But, on 9/11/2001, all of that changed. For months New Yorkers woke up to the smell of burning rubble, fighter jets flying over our air space, and the sight of lower Manhattan smoldering. All while witnessing constant funeral processions, wakes, and memorial services.

In the readings today, we hear Saint Paul’s confident words, “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Jesus reveals himself to us even during the worst tragedy; in fact, sometimes, that is the only time many people rely on and call out to Jesus. As Jesus tells us repeatedly in the beatitudes today, blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. After the attacks of September 11, 2001, churches in NYC were filled, not just for a day or two but for months. They were filled on Sundays and on weekdays, as those in NY witnessed funeral processions for over a year pass us by as we traveled throughout the city and the surrounding metropolitan area.

The saying in NY after the attacks was this, “Never forget.” I pray we had never forgotten the unity we felt as a country after 9-11. I also wish we never forget that the place we all need to be for hope and comfort and to create unity is in church. Jesus has a keen way of revealing himself if we look for him. The places where the towers stood in New York City have been made into a memorial. The towers’ footprints are now two large waterfalls, the largest man-made waterfalls in the United States. Across the way the Freedom Tower has been completed, it rises as a mighty symbol standing over the city. Yet, the wounds where the original towers stood remain. They are a testimony to what happened twenty years ago. Would anyone believe what happened if they were not allowed to touch the wounds? The resurrected World Trade Center, with the wounds intact. Sound familiar?

Sermon preached by the Rev. Christian M. Wood
Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota, Florida
20th anniversary of the September 11th attacks
September 11, 2021

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