Friday, September 12, 2008 at 1:01am
Flag-waving Liberal Peacenik Remembers 9/11/01
Column: SpiritLinks
September 11, 2001 will forever be one of those days we remember as where-we-were-when ... The symbolic 9-1-1 date and its images have been etched into hearts and minds around the world. So merciless and horrific were the attacks on the noncombatant, multi-ethnic, interfaith populace of the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and four commercial airplanes.
Modern technology of television and satellite feed brought people the world over into our homeland and made us kindred souls, neighbors and friends. Together, we watched with inconceivable terror, the first tower in flames; the second airplane strike; the Pentagon destruction; the twin towers collapse killing 3,000 innocents and sending thousands more fleeing the toxic gray cloud of human and other debris.
Mainstream media and governments worldwide denounced the attacks. France's "Le Monde newspaper summed up the international mood of sympathy: "We Are All Americans" (Nous sommes tous Américains).
In my community, interfaith leaders leapt into action to provide sanctuaries where we could gather for prayer, meditation, song and tears. Churches and other houses of worship opened their doors to those not seen in a very long time and some not ever before. We needed each others' humanity. We needed to look into sorrowful eyes of strangers as well as friends and family. We needed to touch each other to know we were real, that they were real, that what we had seen was not an atrocious hoax set up with trick photography.
That afternoon or the next – who can remember one from the other – a Catholic priest, a Sufi, a rabbi and a protestant minister lead a group of shocked wives, mothers, husbands, fathers, children, singles, workers and non-workers in prayer in the middle of a shopping mall. We gathered where people would ordinarily be. It is an irony of grief that to some extent we must go on as if nothing has happened. We still need to eat, drink, work, shop, cook and clean.
We were individuals of mixed races, nationalities and faiths. Everyone was eager to make the other feel welcome. Two women wearing Burkas and their children received nods and openings to move forward. You are safe and unjudged here, we wished to say.
Some in the audience spoke, we chanted and sang and ended our gathering with "Let There be Peace on Earth." Some harmonized, some sang off-key, one angelic soprano carried our song like a ribbon of light into heaven to guide and bless the lost souls.
Before we left, the leaders passed out stickers. Some were American flags, some eagles. I took two tiny holographs of the Statue of Liberty and placed them on the side mirrors of my car. They glow, still, in the lights of autos behind me.
Within a few days, shock began to transition into other feelings. Communal distress spawned conversations. Within congregations, opinions about how to react to the catastrophe differed. Some felt the response should be peaceful unification and healing through prayer and forgiveness. Others wanted vengeance. Some faith communities were polarized by the two factions.
At one church, the minister posited that flags and professions of patriotism were globally divisive. To display a flag or any symbol of nationalism was presumed to mean that you advocate retaliation. This sentiment was reinforced across the country. What a sad commentary on our society that it became an embarrassment to be patriotic.
The following Sunday I happened to park my mustang next to the minister's Mercedes SL, and I know he was appalled to see the Lady Liberty decals. Yet, I know too, that he is proud of his classic car, and I suspect equally proud of his imposing house. We tend to delight in significant possessions. Some try to remain detached from material goods, but we grieve their loss when they are taken from us.
In protest of stereotyping, I took to my jewelry stash and pulled out the little American flag earrings on which I'd painted a peace symbol and wore during the Gulf War. I despise war. I believe there should be other means of settling differences. And, I honor and thank our service men and women and their families for their sacrifices.
With all its faults and shortcomings, this is my country – my greater home. I am proud to be an American. An assault on my country, murdering my neighbor is equal to bombing my community. We may not get everything right. For sure the nation is not run the way I would like, but this flag-waving liberal peacenik has the freedom to be just that because this is the United States of America.
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Diana deRegnier writes from the San Francisco Bay Area. Her articles appear in websites, wires and print publications across America and around the world. © copyright 2008 by Diana deRegnier
Modern technology of television and satellite feed brought people the world over into our homeland and made us kindred souls, neighbors and friends. Together, we watched with inconceivable terror, the first tower in flames; the second airplane strike; the Pentagon destruction; the twin towers collapse killing 3,000 innocents and sending thousands more fleeing the toxic gray cloud of human and other debris.
Mainstream media and governments worldwide denounced the attacks. France's "Le Monde newspaper summed up the international mood of sympathy: "We Are All Americans" (Nous sommes tous Américains).
In my community, interfaith leaders leapt into action to provide sanctuaries where we could gather for prayer, meditation, song and tears. Churches and other houses of worship opened their doors to those not seen in a very long time and some not ever before. We needed each others' humanity. We needed to look into sorrowful eyes of strangers as well as friends and family. We needed to touch each other to know we were real, that they were real, that what we had seen was not an atrocious hoax set up with trick photography.
That afternoon or the next – who can remember one from the other – a Catholic priest, a Sufi, a rabbi and a protestant minister lead a group of shocked wives, mothers, husbands, fathers, children, singles, workers and non-workers in prayer in the middle of a shopping mall. We gathered where people would ordinarily be. It is an irony of grief that to some extent we must go on as if nothing has happened. We still need to eat, drink, work, shop, cook and clean.
We were individuals of mixed races, nationalities and faiths. Everyone was eager to make the other feel welcome. Two women wearing Burkas and their children received nods and openings to move forward. You are safe and unjudged here, we wished to say.
Some in the audience spoke, we chanted and sang and ended our gathering with "Let There be Peace on Earth." Some harmonized, some sang off-key, one angelic soprano carried our song like a ribbon of light into heaven to guide and bless the lost souls.
Before we left, the leaders passed out stickers. Some were American flags, some eagles. I took two tiny holographs of the Statue of Liberty and placed them on the side mirrors of my car. They glow, still, in the lights of autos behind me.
Within a few days, shock began to transition into other feelings. Communal distress spawned conversations. Within congregations, opinions about how to react to the catastrophe differed. Some felt the response should be peaceful unification and healing through prayer and forgiveness. Others wanted vengeance. Some faith communities were polarized by the two factions.
At one church, the minister posited that flags and professions of patriotism were globally divisive. To display a flag or any symbol of nationalism was presumed to mean that you advocate retaliation. This sentiment was reinforced across the country. What a sad commentary on our society that it became an embarrassment to be patriotic.
The following Sunday I happened to park my mustang next to the minister's Mercedes SL, and I know he was appalled to see the Lady Liberty decals. Yet, I know too, that he is proud of his classic car, and I suspect equally proud of his imposing house. We tend to delight in significant possessions. Some try to remain detached from material goods, but we grieve their loss when they are taken from us.
In protest of stereotyping, I took to my jewelry stash and pulled out the little American flag earrings on which I'd painted a peace symbol and wore during the Gulf War. I despise war. I believe there should be other means of settling differences. And, I honor and thank our service men and women and their families for their sacrifices.
With all its faults and shortcomings, this is my country – my greater home. I am proud to be an American. An assault on my country, murdering my neighbor is equal to bombing my community. We may not get everything right. For sure the nation is not run the way I would like, but this flag-waving liberal peacenik has the freedom to be just that because this is the United States of America.
——————————————-
Diana deRegnier writes from the San Francisco Bay Area. Her articles appear in websites, wires and print publications across America and around the world. © copyright 2008 by Diana deRegnier