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9-11-02
“How can we see the terrible events of Tuesday, September 11, 2001, from a spiritual perspective?”
My response has varied. But each time, the word ‘hope’ springs forth – the same word that springs to mind as I think of a young girl … a sign in a prison camp … words printed on a refugee centre wall.
A young girl wrote in her journal:
“In spite of everything,
I still believe that people are really good at heart.
I still can’t build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death.
I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness.
I hear the ever-approaching thunder which will destroy us, too.
I can feel the suffering of millions -
and yet
if I look up into the heavens,
I think that it will all come right,
and that this cruelty will end,
and that peace and tranquility will return again.”
The young girl was Anne Frank.
Someone wrote on a prison wall:
“I believe in the sun, even when it’s not shining.
I believe in the stars, even when I see them not.
I believe in God, even when God is silent.”
The prison camp was Dachau.
In a very small room in a refugee centre, four young women taught songs to pre-school children who were malnourished, sickly and orphaned.
There was no room to sit in the noisy, hot, humid, dusty
and impossibly crowded room.
Yet the children sang
and moved
spontaneously
with joy!
And on the wall were crudely printed words:
“Life is a gift from God.”
The country was Sri Lanka – a country torn apart by civil war.
In spite of everything …
In the midst of
… a terrifying yesterday
… a bleak, and often hungry, today
… a potentially fearful tomorrow
there was still hope!
And, there is hope for today’s world.
Anne Frank’s words are words of hope.
The Dachau prisoner’s words are words of hope.
The Sri Lankan’s words are words of hope.
Though our future may seem bleak, frightening to some,
we must allow the hope of those
in seemingly hopeless situations in the past,
speak hope to our present situation.
Let us hold onto the words of a young girl: “In spite of everything…”
We hugged at the top of the front porch steps
Then, with a smile
and a “Bye, Mom, I’m off!”
he ventured down the steps alone
yet not alone.
I was three paces behind him
there to catch him if he fell
hug him if he felt afraid
cry with him if he injured himself,
laugh with him if he giggled
reroute him if he got lost
protect him if he ventured off track
smile with him when he reached his destination
feel pride that he had walked to school “on his own”
because for days we had practiced the route
and he knew that I would be “with him”
following close behind
giving him that sense of independence
and a sense of security
that
one who loved him
was with him.
In a way, that’s how I see being in the constant care of the Creator
always caring, always present,
allowing me space to be independent
and go my own way
to make my own decisions/choices/mistakes,
yet knowing that the One who loves me is with me
in ways that are often indefinable
undetectable
(until *after* the crisis or whatever I’m going through)
inexplicable
yet
very real
Create!
she said with enthusiasm
I looked at the blank piece of paper
and was numb
Create?
Create what?
Let it flow
put paint on brush
brush on paper.
See what happens
She’s got to be kidding
I murmured
to no one in particular
I need her to show me
what to do
I’ve never
ever
painted before.
But no one was interested
They were mucking about in their paints
mixing colours
adding water
having fun.
One was even
humming
and I?
What was I doing?
Looking at the others;
Trying to figure out
what to “do.”
Looking at the teacher
trying to have her
tell me
in simple, easy,
step-by-step instructions
in my first-ever
art course
how
to
create.
Begin – and it will flow
echoed the words
build it – and they will come.
Sure.
Just begin.
Create
I wanted to
bring form
out of nothing;
bring
something new
and incredible
into being;
birth
a unique
and extraordinary
piece of art
that had not existed before.
But here I sat
immobile
|
in the beginning Schoenberg created twelve-tone music |
|
Gutenberg invented moveable type |
at last
paint went on brush
brush touched paper
creation!
Thoreau
wrote
Go confidently
in the direction
of your dreams.
Live the life
you’ve imagined.
So,
what do you
have to lose?
Create the future!
A year ago
Something happened. It wasn’t a pleasant something.
It was a horrific something. Men did the unthinkable.
They drove planes into buildings and thousands of innocent people died.
And, some said, the world would never be the same.
A year ago
For a brief moment, I believed that.
But, the intervening twelve months,
Helped me realize that the nay-sayers and doomsday prophets
weren’t able to see the wider picture
… didn’t encounter the miracles around
… couldn’t imagine the world would recover.
A year ago
I saw the tragedy and the lives that were ruined
and for just a moment, I couldn’t see God in the midst of the horror.
I ‘bought-into’ the worldwide negativity.
But then … I heard a sound
– a sound of children at play and laughing
I glimpsed a hope-filled sight
- of a young couple embracing
I felt the gentle touch
- of a butterfly’s wings
I tasted the delicious sweetness
- of delicious ripe fruit
I smelled the aroma of fresh, crisp air around
And then, my sixth sense … my inner self …
that part of me that responds intuitively -
that part of me that knows at a level beyond cognition
- my spirit -
came alive!
I knew!
Knew that there was still a future
… and a hope
… and that the world would survive.
The poem “High Flight” was written by John Gillespie Magee, Jr who, born in Shanghai, China, decided at the age of 18 to enter flight training so that he could be part of the fight against Hitler. On September 3, 1941, Magee flew a high altitude (30,000 feet) test flight in a newer model of the Spitfire V. As he orbited and climbed upward, he was struck with the inspiration of a poem — “to touch the face of God.” Once back on the ground, he wrote a letter to his parents. In it he commented, “I am enclosing a verse I wrote the other day. It started at 30,000 feet, and was finished soon after I landed.” On the back of the letter, he jotted down his poem, “High Flight.” Three months later, on December 11, 1941 Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee, Jr., was killed at the age of 19.
“I still believe – in spite of everything – that people are really good at heart.”
Anne Frank, Diary of a Young Girl
So may it be. Amen. So may it be.
