I got up to make seminary class as usual on that day. My roommate was already up watching tv...he is never up that early. He tells me that they bombed the WTC. That's what someone called and told him.
We watch a minute and learn what really happened. It was the first plane, so we thought "How the hell could a plane go that far out of whack."
I went to shower with no idea what would transpire.
I get out and my roommate said "they did it again"..
We watched the footage of the second plane and by that time the Pentagon.
It didn't really hit me until class. My dad died on 9/2/01...we didn't have a great relationship. But in class (a class on the Church's response to violence) I couldn't help but think that a lot of people lost fathers that they had good relationships with.
Then come the "we shouldn't retaliate"..."we have to retaliate" mess that went on because we had the luxury of waxing eloquent when there were people who didn't know if their loved ones were coming home.
We looked for the "Christian" response. I came up with one...
The Christian, first and foremost, as with everyone else...must weep.
And that's what I did that day...and the day when we took it to Afghanistan...not because I thought it was wrong...but I wept because we were put in the position to have to make that decision.
Whatever expressions we have about 9/11, the politics, the war, the lost ones, the ones remaining, right and wrong...
...weep.
