September 11, 2001, is without a doubt one of the most significant dates in United States history. The loss of life, the suffering, the anxiety of that day is without parallel. Yes, D-day, Pearl Harbor, Gettysburg and Bull Run matched or surpassed the casualty numbers of 9/11, but the immediacy and stunning reality offered by modern media coverage made the events of that September morning garish and dramatic in a way not known before.
When the four hijacked planes had wreaked their havoc on our collective senses, we were driven to our knees in more ways than one. We had the wind knocked out of our arrogance, arrogance bred by an adolescent feeling of invulnerability. Something more than a geopolitical hubris was shattered that day. People who had previously used the name of God only in vain suddenly took it more seriously. Certainly, some still cursed with an added vehemence. But millions of other Americans bent their knees in earnest prayers: prayers for the victims, for the families, for our leaders. And many prayed for understanding: what can this mean.
This year marks the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on 9/11. It falls on a Sunday and the church I attend will be celebrating the Lord’s Supper. I am struck by the parallels between these two memorials. The shock, the pain, the utter senselessness of the violence must have been predominant in the days immediately following both events. Fear edged in as people wondered if more death and destruction would follow. A strong sense of community and shared suffering flooded the American people on 9/12 as it must have those distraught followers of Christ the day after “Good Friday.” For many there was a foreboding that an era had come to a close, that the future was shrouded by gloom.
When Jesus told his little band at the Last Supper that they would henceforth see the cup and the loaf in a new way, it was like the evening of 9/10/2001. They did not grasp the import; they had no idea what was about to descend upon them. Twenty-four hours later, then especially fifty days later, they began to understand. The horrors of that one awful day would never be forgotten, and the true significance of it was cemented in their hearts and minds by the trauma.
I am not suggesting for a moment that 9/11 has equal historical significance to the day Christ died. I am saying that believers would do well to seek that sense of community, the shared suffering, the renewed sense of purpose that dawned with 9/12. Just as it would do our country good to remember that, it would do the church good to hear, “Do this in remembrance” as a call to that. When we, “Remember his death until he comes again,” let us remember what a traumatic, world-shaking thing it was. If we really believe, we must see that the world still trembles from the effects of that wonderful, terrible day. Although our fear has been replaced by hope, we must never lose the urgency of the drama; we must not forget the eternal significance of the event. That is why we have memorials.