|
 |
9/11
memory and love

Frank Flinn comments on 9/11 memories and love

Source: Frank
K. Flinn's Web site.
- (314) 935-5576
Related: Brief
biography of Frank K. Flinn

[St. Louis, Mo., 9-10-02] - Frank
K. Flinn, adjunct professor of
religious studies at Washington
University in St. Louis and a
noted authority on religious thought
and expression, comments on his
experience of 9/11 and his hope
that love will flourish in wake
of terror and destruction.
9/11
memory and love

By Frank K. Flinn

 |
| Frank K. Flinn |
On
the morning of September 11, 2001,
I was on a Delta Airlines flight
from Barcelona to Atlanta. About
10:00 a.m. New York time I sensed
that the plane was loosing altitude.
I opened the shade and saw full
sunlight directly out the window.
I deduced that the plane was no
longer heading toward the American
coastline. In fact it was headed
north. Soon I spotted some islands.
Having once landed at this spot
in the Atlantic Ocean, I deduced
again that the plane was going
to land in the Azores. The plane
was flying well, so I guessed
that something else was going
on. Maybe a hijacking I thought.
At that moment, the captain's
voice came over the speaker system.
"We are all right," he assured
us, "nothing is wrong with the
plane. We are going to be landing
shortly. You are to exit the plane
as quickly as possible. The stewards
and stewardesses will assist you
in this. Once we are in the waiting
room, I will explain everything
to you."
The woman traveling in the seat
next to me was returning from
a pilgrimage to San Juan Compostela.
We had talked of spiritual things
prior to the announcement. At
that moment we held hands and
said the Lord's Prayer together.
The plane landed and parked at
the end of the runway. We were
all hustled into the waiting room
of the airport. Then the captain
told us what had happened in New
York and that our plane was being
checked for a bomb.
We made our way into the airport
restaurant just as the crumbling
towers of the World Trade Center
flickered over Portuguese television.
We gaped in horror. Some of us
who had been to New York a lot
wondered how many perished with
the buildings' collapse. To this
day, as my sadness for those lost
deepens, I marvel that so many
escaped.
Travelers were frantically trying
to reach loved ones. Many were
calling New York. Those with cell
phones kindly reached theirs to
those without. The captain and
the crew marshaled all the local
people they could to make sure
we had a place to eat and stay
that night. The next morning I
woke early and walked in grief
to a church to meditate, but it
was locked, so I sat on the steps.
That afternoon we were flown back
to Madrid. I did not make it home
until late Friday.
As I watched TV in Madrid over
the Spanish, German and French
channels it became clear that
Al Qaeda was involved and my inner
self quaked at the possibility
of worldwide religious war. But
reporters started talking of something
extraordinary that had taken place.
Just at the moment when victims
were aware that they could or
were about to die, their last
words were "I love you." "It looks
bad, I love you." "Take care of
the kids, I love you." "Tell Grandma
goodbye, I love you." "I love
you." "I love you."
No words of revenge. No hatred.
No resentment. Just "I love you."
It happened everywhere, again
and again. From the World Trade
Center, from the plane that went
down in Pennsylvania, from the
Pentagon. "I love you."
In the coming months my thoughts
of world affairs kept drifting
toward the dark pit of hopelessness.
My wife, Alice, kept calling me
back. In January we went to New
York. We took the subway to Ground
Zero. Amid the throng of people
we quietly said the prayer of
St. Francis, "Lord, make me a
channel of your peace." I turned
toward the cranes and dust wafting
up from the hole of devastation
and an inner voice spoke to me,
"Love won a great victory here."
It is this lesson that has kept
me from despair.
Today I pray that this great lesson
does not get overwhelmed. Too
quickly our leaders have deflected
our attention from love to patriotism,
and revenge and war in a kind
of mindless militarism. But that
is not the message those who lost
most left us. They taught us that
the only way to conquer the hatred
that showed its gaping maw on
September 11 is to learn to love,
to learn to continue to love.
Gandhi once said true patriotism
is love of your neighbor, even
if your neighbor is a Jew, a Muslim,
a Hindu, a Christian, or someone
who has no belief at all. "I love
you" is stronger than all the
hatred the world can spew forth
and it is the only way the pain
of the world will be healed. "I
love you."
________________________________________________________________________
Frank K. Flinn is adjunct professor
of religious studies at Washington
University in St. Louis. In the
spring semester he led a seminar
on religion and violence.
Editor's Note: Frank Flinn, a
noted authority on religious thought
and expression, makes the following
commentary available for free
and immediate publication on a
non-exclusive basis. Flinn is
available for questions and discussion
regarding this commentary and
other news issues: 314-935-7752;
fkflinn@artsci.wustl.edu.
|
|