The memories are grim. Some are communal and shareable. Others are highly personal and difficult to share without weeping. A few are impossible to articulate. Every anniversary carries its own weight and meaning. Every anniversary is experienced uniquely. The first was quite different from the tenth and was different from today’s 24th. No one can predict what next year’s milestone 25th will be like.
Today, there is an entire generation that was still in the womb in September 2001. Many are students here and in every university in the U.S. They are adults but have no first-hand memories. Meanwhile, a significant portion of those whose recollections contributed to the communal memory have died.
Twenty-four years ago yesterday, we woke on the day before the morning of
though we didn't know it. The only ones who did were the al-Qaeda terrorists who were busy making the final checks on their coordinated plan of mass murder and their own suicides.
Twenty-four years ago last night we went to bed as usual. Some drifted off into deep sleep while others tossed and turned with worry about family, finances, or the weather forecast.
Twenty-four years ago last night the great silence descended on monasteries
throughout the world as the Church ended compline with the chanting of the Salve Regina.
Salve Regina, Mater Misericordiae
"Hail Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy
Our life, our sweetness, and our hope. . . . "
The killers knew it would be their last night alive. None of their victims knew
that when they woke they would see their last sunrise, they would kiss their children for the final time. Some would receive the Body and Blood of Our Lord in what would be their last communion.
When we woke on September 11, 2001 some of us felt refreshed and eager for the day to begin. Others wanted another hour or six of sleep. It was time to brush the teeth, shower, and have the first few cups of coffee. At 8:45 AM EDT we were on the way to work or already at school.
Some went for a morning run. Others walked the dog. Routine daily tasks had to be done. Perhaps it was garbage day. Perhaps it was the first day on a new job. The sixty seconds between 8:45 and 8:46 marked the last minute of life as we had known it up to then.
Everything changed at 8:46 EDT when American Airlines flight 11 crashed into the North tower of the World Trade Center.
United Airlines flight 175 crashed into the South tower at 9:13 EDT.
American Airlines flight 77 struck the west side of the Pentagon at 9:37 EDT.
United Airlines flight 93, from Newark, NJ to San Francisco was hijacked by Ziad Jarrah who had trained as a pilot here in the U.S.
His attempt to divert the plane toward D.C. aiming for the White House or the Capitol was foiled after a struggle with pilots, flight staff, and passengers.
Jarrah and his confederates intentionally crashed the plane in an empty field
near Shanksville, PA at 10:03 EDT.
The attacks were over.
Twenty-four years ago tonight few of us slept. For those who did, sleep was troubled, non-restoring, and interrupted by nightmares or tears. The silence was deafening. Our lives were irrevocably changed. They would never return to what they had been.
Twenty-four years ago tomorrow September 12 was the first full day after the attack. The true horror was still sinking in as the numbers of the dead ticked upward every several hours. Stories of heroism and self-sacrifice were partial antidotes to despair.
Today, twenty-four years later, those of us who lived through what has come to be called 9/11 still wonder, grieve, and weep. And, as we have for the past years, we pray for the victims' families and loved ones. We pray for ourselves. Most especially we pray for those who were killed by radical terrorists.
Requiem aeternam
dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Requiescant in pace.
"Eternal rest
grant unto them O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace."
___________________________________________________________________
Head of the Crucified Christ in the Charterhouse in Pleterje, Slovenia
Fr. Jack, SJ, MD
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