A Reflection for Sept. 11

 Twenty-five years ago, this Friday, time seemed to stop. For most of us who are old enough to remember, the morning of September 11, 2001, is etched into our minds with vivid clarity: the crisp late-summer sky, the sudden shock, the terrible collapse, and the heavy silence that fell across our nation and the world. A quarter of a century has passed since that day. Children born in the wake of that tragedy are now adults with families of their own. An entire generation has grown up knowing 9/11 not as a memory, but as a chapter in history books. Yet for the families of the 2,977 souls lost, for the first responders who ran toward danger, and for a world forever altered, twenty-five years feels both like an eternity and like yesterday.

We remember where we stood when the towers fell, when the Pentagon was struck, and when a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, became sacred ground. A quarter-century has passed. A generation has grown up with no living memory of that day. They know it only through history books and documentary footage. Yet for those who lost fathers, mothers, children, spouses, and friends, twenty-five years can feel like yesterday. Grief does not run on a human clock; it leaves an imprint on the heart that time alone cannot erase.

The Psalmist writes words that could have been penned for the morning of 9/11:

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea..."  Psalm 46:1-2

On that Tuesday morning, the physical representations of global security, economic power, and military strength crumbled in minutes. The foundations shook. But Psalm 46 reminds us that human structures, no matter how tall, stable, or proud, are temporary. When the visible world fractures, our spiritual foundation remains intact. God does not promise us a world free of suffering, hatred, or unexpected tragedy. But our Creator promises that when the mountains fall, God remains our refuge. Our Redeemer is not distant in our grief; but is an ever-present help.

The legacy of 9/11 is double-edged. On one side, it revealed the darkest depths of human evil and destruction. But on the other, it revealed the extraordinary nobility of the human spirit. We remember the firefighters, police officers, and first responders who ran up the stairs while everyone else ran down. We remember the passengers on Flight 93 who chose selflessness over self-preservation. We remember strangers holding hands in dust-filled streets, blood drives wrapped around city blocks, and sanctuary doors opened wide to offer rest to the weary.

In the days after 9/11, we saw what happens when a country lays aside trivial divisions to bear one another's burdens. Twenty-five years later, in a world so strongly fractured by division, we need that reminder again.

Christ calls us to guard our hearts against two dangers when processing tragedy:

Despair: Believing that evil has the final word.

Bitterness: Allowing past wounds to consume our capacity to love and show mercy.

To honor those who died is not to nurse ancient grudges, but to live lives worthy of the sacrifice made on our behalf by choosing courage over fear, unity over division, and light over darkness.

And so, we pray:

Heavenly Father, God of comfort and Lord of time,

Today we remember. We lift up the families of the nearly 3,000 precious lives lost twenty-five years ago. Comfort those whose hearts still ache with grief, and hold close every orphan, widow, and grieving parent.

We thank You for the heroes who gave their lives so others might live. Grant wisdom to those who protect us, peace to our neighborhoods, and healing to our nation.

Teach us how to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. When our foundations shake, remind us that You are our unshakeable fortress. Help us to build a future rooted not in fear, but in faith, hope, and love.

In Your holy name we pray, Amen.

Fr. Jeff Goldone