Friends
Wednesday marks the 23rd anniversary of 9/11. Where were you on that unforgettable September day?
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“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
John 15:13 – NIV
I stood, feet planted on the pristine white concrete, staring skyward at the open structure looming before me. My eyes scanned the tower, a 93-ft tower, rising up out of the ground of the Pennsylvania countryside. A 93-ft tower standing tall, keeping watch over the cascading hills and peaceful fields..
A 93-ft tower filled with 40 chimes. Forty chimes gleaming in the sunshine, each with a bell that resembled a wing. Forty chimes designed to sing out when the wind picked up speed. Forty chimes, one for each person, one for each of the 40 people who found their final resting place there. Forty chimes hanging in a 93-ft tower, 40 chimes for 40 people, 20 men and 20 women, 7 crewmembers and 33 passengers.
It wasn’t their choice to die there that day. It wasn’t their choice to linger on that Pennsylvania hillside. They had places to go and things to do, but there were others who chose their destiny that day.
Four men boarded that plane alongside those 40 passengers and crew. Those four men were bent on destruction, filled with hatred, determined to wreak havoc with no thought to the loss of life. Four hijackers, fueled by misplaced passions and unbridled bitterness, took the lives of 40 innocent people. Four misguided and violent men brought devastation on a beautiful September day.
The wind was calm on that hot August day, and I wondered what it would be like to be on that hilltop when the wind was up. What would it be like to be there when the wind stirred those 40 chimes, to hear the sound bellowing out over the peaceful fields? What would it be like to hear the echo of forty voices, the echo of 40 voices that were silenced on that September day??
There was so much I didn’t know about the events of September 11, 2001, so many details I missed, details that became hauntingly real as I wandered through the visitor center of the Flight 93 Memorial near Shanksville, Pennsylvania. On the black granite walls of the visitor center, the exhibits replayed the news footage, displayed artifacts from the crash site, and detailed the minute-by-minute timeline of the horrific events of 9/11. I had known the plane was not full, but learned that besides the four hijackers, there were 33 passengers and seven crew members ,40 souls, 20 men and 20 women. I knew the flight had been delayed leaving Newark headed for San Francisco, but I didn’t know the flight delay comprised 20 minutes. Twenty minutes, that tiny fraction of time made all the difference. Those extra 20 minutes made it possible for the passengers and crew to learn about the plane crashes into the Twin Towers in New York City. Those 20 minutes allowed the passengers and crew to comprehend that the hijackers on their flight were not acting alone, but rather, Their actions were part of a much larger and more deadly terrorist plot. Those 20 minutes allowed those 20 men and 20 women to figure out the intended target of this hijacked flight, Washington, D.C. Those extra 20 minutes afforded those men and women the opportunity to call home, to reach out to loved ones, knowing all the while that this might be their final conversation.
Tears streamed down my face as I listened to the audio recordings of the messages left on home answering machines, my heart breaking for each caller and the loved ones who were left behind to listen to those messages. The people, those 33 passengers and seven crew, became poignantly real to me as I heard their voices and saw their pictures portrayed on those black granite walls of the visitor center. Those brave men and women became even more real to me as I listened to the park ranger share their individual stories during the moving, and quite powerful, ranger talk held near the crash site. Yet, the thing that wrenched my heart and filled my eyes with tears was seeing the stark white granite wall at the crash site, the tall rock wall that held forty panels, each panel bearing one name, one panel for each of the 40 lives lost on that unforgettable September day.
Until I heard the ranger talk, I didn’t know that every able-bodied passenger and crew member stepped up to stop the hijackers, managing to subdue the two terrorists in the cabin, and then rush the cockpit. They were winning, close to taking back control, when the hijacker pilot purposely turned the plane upside down to thwart the throng coming at them. Fearing being overtaken, the terrorist pilot and co-pilot then made the conscious decision to crash the plane. In the final moments on the flight voice recorder, at least one passenger could be heard screaming “No!”
On that September day, amid the peaceful, rolling hills of Pennsylvania, 40 souls were lost, 40 voices silenced, but they were not silenced without a fight. Facing insurmountable odds, they stood and fought, never giving up, hanging onto hope until the bitter end. They were fighting for their lives, but they were also fighting for the lives of countless others, understanding all too well that the terrorists must be stopped before reaching their intended target. Because of that 20 minute flight delay, those 20 men and 20 women realized how imperative it was for them to act, to prevent a repeat of the tragedy that befell the Twin Towers. Yet, what they may not have known, we now recognize, and that knowledge sent a shiver down my spine. When those brave men and women made their final rush on the cockpit, Flight 93 was only 20 minutes away from Washington, D.C., only 20 minutes away from striking the US Capitol, only 20 minutes from laying waste to the street where I stood stranded outside Union Station. Only 20 minutes stood between me and certain death, only 20 minutes and 20 men and 20 women.
I had come to those green rolling hills of Pennsylvania on that hot August day on a pilgrimage of sorts, a journey to pay tribute to the brave men and women of Flight 93. I knew that their courageous actions had made a difference in the outcomes of that tragic day. I just had no idea how great a difference it was. Eyes brimming with tears, I slowly walked along the sobering granite wall marking the crash site, pausing at each panel, staring at names I couldn’t see to read but knew were there, saying a silent word of thanks to each and every one of the forty names. When Eric and I reached the end of that stark white wall, we paused in silence., both overcome with emotion. Clasping our hands tightly together, we lifted up a prayer of gratitude. I could not think of a better way to honor the memory of those courageous men and women than to lift them and their families up in prayer.
Lost in the silence of our own thoughts, We quietly walked away from the crash site, and then drove up the hill to visit the Tower of Voices. As I stood on that hilltop staring up at that 93 foot tower framed against a cornflower blue sky, I wondered what it would be like to be here when the wind stirred those forty chimes. Still, as the hot August sun bore down on our shoulders, I couldn’t help but think that somehow the silence seemed right too, because in silence, there is rest, and in rest, there is peace.
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“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”
Romans 12:21 – NIV
PRAYER
O God of Love and Grace, we give thanks for the brave men and women who responded to the call for action on that long ago September day, who chose to take a stand to save the lives of others. May we not forget their sacrifice, honoring their memory by having the courage to stand for what is good and right. Let us stand strong in unity, choosing love instead of hate, overcoming evil with good.
In the Mighty Name of Jesus, we pray,
Amen
Blessings,
Anita
-APS 9/9/2024
Faith Beyond Sight 