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In the midst of the acrid rubble and debris at “Ground Zero” on
September 11, 2001, perhaps the single most prominent yet controversial
feature of the entire sixteen-acre plot came to be a large cross forged by the powerful intersection of two colliding girders.
Perhaps you’ve seen pictures of this cross, whose two girders once
served as the foundation upon which stood the Twin Towers of New York’s
World Trade Center.
According to the
Associated Press (AP), a construction laborer discovered the cross while
searching for victims two days following the
September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on targets in New
York and Washington, DC. The 20-foot structure was standing
almost upright. According to the report, 47-year-old Frank Silecchia
cried for 20 minutes after discovering the cross. “Some people will
say it's velocity of physics that put it there,” Silecchia told AP
reporters. “To me, it's an act of God….Even an atheist watching this
building site said, ‘Oh, my God!’ Evil did this work, and God prevailed
to show his strength.”
Shortly thereafter,
ironworkers hoisted the girders to the crest of a 40-foot-high mound of
debris where a pedestrian walkway once stood. A local pastor held a
memorial service for the victims and blessed the girders with holy
water, declaring: “Behold the glory of the cross at Ground Zero. This is
our symbol of hope, our symbol of faith, our symbol of healing....”
During the clean up
operations, the cross served as a place of refuge for work-wearied
laborers. It also demarcated a space where anxious people of
different faiths found peace and serenity in the midst of the
senselessness engulfing them. The cross also provided a symbolic
link to God for people traumatized by the effects of an incomprehensible
tragedy. For many, this naked cross composed of two girders
offered hope and inspiration in the midst of a maelstrom we glibly call “9/11.”
While many people
prayed before that cross, looked for answers to the uncertainties and
tragedies, and took account of their lives, the naked cross forced
Catholics to impose Jesus’ body upon it, transforming a nondescript
cross into a body-laden crucifix, the instrument of torture and
execution the Roman authorities used in a futile attempt to put an end
to Jesus and his message of hope, faith, and healing. As these
Catholics meditated upon the sacrifice Jesus made by yielding his body
upon the cross, Catholics not only experienced what that cross of
girders provided for so many other people but, in addition, the hope,
faith, and healing God freely gives when people take refuge in Jesus’
outstretched arms. Just as God made an instrument of torture and death
make sense through the power of the Resurrection, Catholics recognized
that the Exaltation of the Cross at the Twin Towers required once again
nailing the Body of Christ to it if hope, faith, and healing were to
emerge from this tragedy of horrific proportions.
We’re all very
familiar with the stories reporting the heroic first responders and
union laborers―many
of them Catholics―who
struggled mightily to save those trapped in the debris and to recover
those innocently murdered. But, what has remained untold until just
very recently are some of the other, less noteworthy first responders
whose first response in the wake of the events on 9/11 reveals a story
about heroic sanctity as these fellow Catholics imposed themselves upon
the cross for the benefit of those suffering in the aftermath of the
9/11 tragedy.
One priest at Ground
Zero, Fr. Jim Martin, explained his experience this way:
I suppose it’s
simplest to say that our ministry during those weeks was one of
listening: listening to a firefighter talk quietly about one of his
“buddies” who had been killed; listening to a police officer say that
had he been a few feet closer to the buildings he would not be talking
to me; listening to an EMS worker tell me that she prayed that the
victims hadn’t suffered much; listening to an iron worker say that every
time he pulls out a body from “the pile” he [sees] the faces of his wife
and children.
Fr. Martin then
related an event happening after celebrating Mass for the workers.
On the first Sunday
after the attack, four of us decided to celebrate Mass for the assembled
workers….On that cloudless morning we set up a small altar only a few
feet away from the smoking remains of the World Trade Center, and
covered it with a simple cloth. In a few minutes a small group of
dog-tired and dust-covered rescue workers had gathered….After the Mass,
one of the [priests] pointed to a sign that someone had leaned against
our altar….[it read:] “Body of Christ.” Perhaps the anonymous sign
maker had concluded, after hearing us distributing Communion and saying,
“The Body of Christ,” over and over that this is what we were giving
out. And he or she was right. To me it said, “Here is the Body of
Christ, broken and bloodied and awaiting resurrection. Here is the Body
of Christ, the church, gathered together to worship and to work. Here
is the Body of Christ, with you.
Another priest, Fr.
Emile Frische, explained his experience this way:
In all of that chaos
and misery there were inspirational moments. In the Pierre Hotel, after
one of the prayer services, I was sitting with a group of women.
Ministry of presence would be the best way to describe this. Words were
not needed. Making sure they had water, tea, coffee, and tissues―all
[were] a very necessary part of my ministry to them. One of these women
asked where God was at that time and why did He allow this to happen.
Those two questions were always there. “Where was God right now?” she
asked. I looked around at the hotel workers and pointed to them. Then
she came out with a statement that just blew me away: “What I need right
now is a GOD WITH SKIN ON.” Isn’t this what I am called to be every day
of my life―Jesus
alive in the world today―“God
with skin on” for others?
Fr. Frische
continued:
Many times I
administered the Sacrament of [Penance] on site. Rescue workers would
come looking for me, and they also just stopped me along the way,
wherever, and ask to “go to confession.” We celebrated [Penance] in the
morgue, on the platform overlooking the site, down in the “pit” with all
the smells and rubble. I use the word “celebrate” on purpose, because
it really was a celebration of new life. I celebrated Mass twice at the
space between the “Ground Zero Cross.”….New life will rise from the
ashes. You have to believe. All of this gave a whole new meaning of
“being sacrament, and “receiving” sacrament.
A priest of the
Diocese of Pittsburgh (PA), Fr. Joseph McCaffrey, described his
experience in the aftermath of the crash of Flight 93 in Shanksville,
Pennsylvania:
...I was requested by
the FBI to assist United Airlines in providing counsel and support to
the families of the victims....I was privileged to make many private
visits with family members at the crash site as well as the main visit
which included several hundred family members and many dignitaries.
Because of the strong
bonds formed during this critical time with many of the family members,
the Justice Department requested that I assist the family members at
Princeton University for a hearing of the cockpit voice recorder of
United Airlines Flight 93. This again was an experience which I
will never forget. I was privileged to listen, along with the
family members, to the cockpit voice recorder. During these times
of tremendous stress and trauma, bonds are formed between people which
transcend our ordinary life experience. To this day I share a
relationship with people from across the country and am in awe at the
wonder of God who shows forth His magnificence by being able to bring
tremendous good out of horrific evil.
Lastly, a priest
from the Diocese of St. Cloud (MN) happened to be on vacation in New York
City during the terrorist attacks on 9/11. Fr. Jeff Ethen recalled his
experience ministering to those who had lost loved ones:
I had a lifetime of
crisis ministry in those first two days. It was easy to slip into dark
despair. Whenever I attempted to understand the crisis, the sense of
abandonment and helplessness encroached. Only by serving others was it
possible to rise above the desolation….Construction workers and
demolition experts arrived September 12th
to take fifteen minute rotations at Ground Zero sifting through the
rubble. One group of Irish Catholic union steel workers hailed me over
for a blessing. They removed their hardhats and held them in their
forearms tattooed with black marker ID numbers. “You a Catholic
priest?” they hollered. Indeed. “Lay it on us!” [they said].
A month after
returning home, Fr. Ethen spoke with some fourth graders in a public
school regarding his experience. A few days later, Fr. Ethen received a
thank you note from the teacher who
…mentioned one
student, Dylan, who had gone Halloween trick-or-treating around his
community. Most youngsters that year wore costumes of firefighters or
police officers. Dylan, a Protestant, wore a Roman collar. His
neighbors mistook him for a Lutheran minister. He corrected them
proudly, “I’m a Catholic priest,” he announced at each door. “I’m a
hero.”
It’s so easy to get
caught up in the senselessness and tragedy that evil visits upon us.
We focus, for
example, upon the terrible evil perpetrated by a few priests upon
innocent youngsters, while neglecting all of those other priests who
have quietly offered themselves upon the Cross to serve as first
responders when spiritual crises arise. The crises may not be as
dramatic as those of 9/11, but most of these fellows have responded
faithfully when called. It may have been when young adults come to be
married or a spouse who is worried about the state of one’s marriage.
It may have been a sixth grader who has been dumped by one’s “true love”
and is confused and lost or a teenager lying unconscious in the
emergency room of a hospital following an automobile accident. These
fellows have responded faithfully when a family has brought a loved one
to church be buried or a baby to be baptized. It may have been when a
mother and her children come seeking shelter from an abusive husband and
father or a homeless person came in search of a hand out. It may have
been when an embarrassed sinner came seeking to repent of sin or a
parishioner came to share the good news that he and his wife are going
to be grandparents. Or, it may have been just after a doctor told a
patient that the cancer is inoperable or a parishioner has just lost a
job.
Meanwhile, the media
cements the evils perpetrated by the few into the minds of the many as
is possible by promoting the multi-million dollar settlements, all of
which suggests that the Church and its first responders care more about
money and covering up evil than they do about serving God’s people and
their needs. Given the media’s focus, it may well be true that many
Catholics no longer look upon their first responders as “heroes” but
more like the crucifix affixed to a wall in their house. That is, a
decoration taken for granted until a devastating crisis emerges.
On that fateful day in
New York, there were countless other heroes and heroines——Jesus’
disciples—who
also serve others, bringing hope, faith, and healing in the midst of
tragedy. These included the union laborers from across the nation
who traveled to New York City to assist in the reclamation of the
injured and deceased. There were the hotel workers who brought water,
coffee, tea, and tissues to the victims’
loved ones. These women and men provided assistance and counsel at
the morgue on Staten Island.
Fr. Martin noted
these “other signs of God’s presence”:
I saw many other
“signs” of God’s presence in my work at Ground Zero: the police officer
too concerned about my own welfare to consider dwelling on his own; the
Ohio grandmother offering candy bars at a Salvation Army post because
“that’s just what we do”; the Florida firefighter who had driven for two
nights straight to be at the site; the Army officer who said he was sure
that the presence of so much charity was the work of God.
Each of these people
was a sign of God’s presence, a sign of new life in a place of great
death. In this way Ground Zero always reminded me of Calvary, the site
of Jesus’ crucifixion: a place of death and a place that held the
promise of new life. I remember telling a friend at the time: “If
people doubt the presence of evil in the world, let them come to Ground
Zero. But, if people doubt the presence of grace in the world, too, let
them come to Ground Zero.”
Even some of the
victims demonstrated what it means to be a disciple, imitating Jesus on
the Cross. Fr. LaVerne Schueller of the Archdiocese of Dubuque
(IA) recounted one women he met in the triage area at the Pentagon:
It was also in the
triage area that I saw another kind of heroism and testimony to the
goodness of the human spirit. I was holding an IV bag for a
civilian female who was employed by the army. One her legs was
burned, the other was broken. She had been administered a shot of
Demerol. She was a Phillipina, so I thought the odds were pretty
good that she was a Roman Catholic. I identified myself to her as
a Catholic priest. Amid all that chaos, in spite of her own pain,
she looked up at me and said,
“Father,
will you please get word to my husband that I am okay.”
She was not wallowing
in self pity; she was reaching out of her pain in love.
There is a
difference between a cross and a crucifix.
A cross offers a
place of
refuge in the midst of hard labor, a space where people find peace in
the midst of the senselessness they experience in life, a link to God
when traumatized by the harsh realities which evil begets, and a shelter
in the midst of a maelstrom.
But, a crucifix
bears the Body of Christ with arms outstretched, offering hope, faith,
and healing to those to those who take refuge in Jesus’ arms.
While you may
believe that I am promoting the good that many priests do―and,
I am doing that―my
purpose in doing so is to remind all of us that because the cross
requires personal sacrifice, our lives as Jesus’ disciples―as
the Body of Christ―is
what transforms that cross into a salvific crucifix. A crucifix is not
a symbol of death but a symbol of the ultimate act of love, that
selfless self-giving which offers hope, faith, and healing to those
teetering on or having fallen over the precipice leading to spiritual
death.
As Jesus’ disciples,
the ministry of these priests and countless other women and men signifies what each and every one of us is
called to be. Whether in our marriages, our families, our
neighborhoods, our workplaces,
and even in our parish community where we worship, God calls all of us
to impose ourselves as the Body of Christ upon the Cross and to
transform it into a Crucifix by stretching out our arms to those who
need hope, faith, and healing. How often at Sunday Mass have we heard Jesus tell us
to “do
this in memory of me”? When we do, we exalt the Holy Cross, not as
the symbol of evil it was intended to be but as the living reality
through which God offers hope, faith, and healing to anyone who is
willing to allow the Holy Spirit to transform selfishness into selfless service.
For people of faith
as well as for those who may have wavered in faith, it is not ironic
that the only part of the Twin Towers to survive the crushing mass of
carnage when the towers imploded was a twisted cross made of two
girders. This cross stands as a sign that when everything falls apart
and the foundations are destroyed, God is very much present. But,
to transform that cross into a crucifix, it needs the Body of Christ to
be offered upon it.
In the midst of
tragedy when we instinctively are tempted to focus upon ourselves, it is so easy to forget the promise of hope, faith, and healing
that God uttered to the people of ancient Israel and which He utters to
us through the words of Isaiah the prophet:
In the day of great
slaughter, when the towers fall, streams of water will flow on every
high mountain and every lofty hill...when the Lord binds up the bruises
of His people and heals the wounds He inflicted. (30:25-26)
The message of the
twisted cross made of two girders and set on a hill above where the
World Trade Center once stood is that God is with us but maybe not quite
in the way want or expect to see and experience Him. God is not present
upon the Cross but in the Body of Christ which has transformed that
Cross into a Crucifix. Upon this Crucifix, Jesus’ disciples
overcome the instinctive temptation to focus upon themselves and stretch out
their arms as the first responders to those in need of hope, faith, and
healing. As Isaiah the prophet tells us:
I, the Lord, have
called you with righteous purpose and taken you by the hand,
I have formed you,
and appointed you to be a light to all peoples, a beacon for the
nations,
to open eyes that
are blind,
to bring captives
out of prison,
out of the
dungeons where they live in darkness. (42:5-7)
At the final mass held at Ground Zero, construction workers chanted,
“Keep the cross on the site, amen!” That was not to be the case,
however. Those who steadfastly oppose the presence of that (or
any) cross when a
permanent memorial is finally constructed, have successfully argued to
planners that
the cross would “insult the victims, rescue workers, and
other
Americans who are not Christians, who do not believe in a
deity and are not religious.”
Even if that cross
never returns to the place where it was formed whether by the forces of
physics or a divine intervention, it will be exalted nonetheless as the
Body of Christ continues to serve as first responders to those in need
of hope, faith, and healing. As Thomas á Kempis noted in his fifteenth
century book, The Imitation of Christ: “The cross…awaits you
everywhere. No matter where you may go, you cannot escape it….Turn
where you will―above,
below, without, or within―you
will find a cross in everything, and everywhere….”
When we surrender
and willingly place ourselves upon the Cross, it is transformed into a
Crucifix which God will place where it is most needed. Then, as
St. Paul reminded us in today’s Epistle, in
imitation of Jesus―who
“emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance”―we
will serve as God’s first responders bringing hope, faith, and
healing to those in need. It is of us that our children, our
spouses, our neighbors, fellow citizens and co-workers will say—like the
4th
grader, Dylan, said on Halloween Day 2001—“I’m the Body of Christ.
I’m a hero” because of the gift we’ve been for them.
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For anyone interested in
reading the first-hand accounts of those priests who served as first
responders on 9/11 and its aftermath, go to:
http://www.usccb.org/vocations/WWT.PDF |
HOMILY
