September 12, 2010
© Rev. Susan Karlson
I served as chaplain at the Ground Zero Memorial for families and workers lost on 9/11. In a way, families of those who died on 9/11 returned again to that place of loss and sorrow, laying flowers on the reflecting pools, listening to the names, spending moments of silence as bells tolled at the times when each Tower was attacked and when they fell. And I was there just to be a presence with them—to hand out tissues or to offer a bottle of water, take a photo if they wished. It’s nothing complicated, just being present with someone. But it is important to recognize our common humanity, the suffering of the families and friends who still go through such painful loss, which is written on their faces, in the trace of their tears and in the flowers they placed on the reflecting pool.
As one reader said, “do not make this a celebration. This is a somber time.” True enough. I saw there the children growing up who lost parents nine years ago. There are the spouses and partners who lost their love. There are parents who mourn the loss of a child—something no parent ever should do. There are the friends invited to be a part of the ongoing lives of the surviving family members. There I was for the first time, a witness to the power of “returning again”, to looking back, and then continuing with the whole holy stuff of our lives. That day, that place was solely for the grieving families, the survivors of that tragic day. I understood in a way I couldn’t by merely reading the news or even talking to singular surviving family members how precious and sacred that space is for them on that anniversary.
The High Holy Days of the Jewish people and the whole month of fasting, prayer and good works for Ramadan are significant holy days for Jews and Muslims—aimed at making people better people, more able to love one another and to care for each other when someone is hurting or hungry, sick, or in need. Eid-ul-Fitr, the celebration at the end of Ramadan and Rosh Hashanah overlap slightly this year and coincide with the ninth memorial of the attacks on the World Trade Center.
Our Celebration this morning is about just that kind of care and wholeness. At the beginning of the service, we lifted up the Jewish practice of Tashlikh, casting bread or pebbles in a flowing stream to remember how we want to cast out the harm we’ve done to others and offer a practice of seeking forgiveness for ourselves and one another. The president of our congregation reminded us of the dangers of Islamophobia and Antisemitism. We might also remember the spirit of welcome here after this summer of attacks on our neighbors, on those thought to be “other” whether the “Other” is Mexican or Russian, Gay, Black or White.
Our Water stories remind us that water is recycled over and over and so are we—we return again to the cycles of this church—the water ceremony, the church barbecue, the anniversary of the founding of the church, the Memorial Garden Anniversary and joining with people new to the community just moving here, finding this church for the first time and celebrating others who have left this community whether through death or moving on to another place. It is this community that honors all people and all life, that carries us in the currents of support and love no matter what we are going through. It is this community whose concerns broaden to include those who feel unsafe or unwelcome, who are afraid and who hurt. It is to this community that we return again—we return again in love.
My favorite reading at this time of year, well, really for most of the year, is a Litany of Atonement by Robert Eller-Isaacs. It is about forgiving “ourselves and each other”—beginning “again in love.” He writes, “for remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference”, “for each time we have struck out in anger without just cause”, “for the selfishness which sets us apart and alone”, “for losing sight of our unity”, “we forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.”
And so may we start this church year and our lives in general—may we forgive ourselves and each other; may we begin again and “return again” in love.
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