Twelve Years Later

Twelve years ago today I stood in the pulpit of the First Congregational Church in River Edge, New Jersey for what I assumed would be the last time as I preached my final sermon. It was a lovely late summer's day, and the congregation went all out in the efforts to bid me and my wife Linda a fond farewell. There were many tears, much laughter, some lovely gifts, a delicious meal, some very kind words, and then it was all over. Nothing left to do but drive up the road to our new home, and my new congregation, in Westport, Connecticut.

Little did I know that even as I was saying goodbye to people I had grown to lvoe very dearly over the ten years we had been together, final steps were being taken that would lead to the devastation that has come to be known simply by the date it happened: 9/11. Indeed, just two days later, as I was unpacking boxes of books in my new office, word came through that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. And then another, and another crashed in Washington, and yet a fourth in Pennsylvania.

Twelve years have come and gone since then. I now have five grandchildren instead of just one. I've moved again this time to Florida--and have actually been here for almost four years! So much has happened, so much has changed. And with each passing year, the memory of that day and its aftermath, grows a bit dimmer. I am beginning to understand how older Americans feel about the attack on Pearl Harbor. I desperately want to forget that it ever happened--yet how can I? It changed everything. It turned my world upside down--even as it did for millions and millions of others.

I've not seen a lot in the news about the anniversary of 9/11 this year. Even the internet has had little to say. But I know it is there just beneath the surface, informing our conversations about things like the crisis in Syria. In therapeutic circles we talk about the reality that you can't change the past. But that doesn't mean it should be forgotten. For it is always there. Always a part of the present. That's why every year our Jewish friends remind us to "never forget" in their annual holocaust remembrances. I can't turn back the calendar.

I can't go back to that final day in River Edge and play it forward in a new way. But I can remember. So can all of us.