Oh, and Since It's the 11th...

... a thought about forgiveness.

I remember being shook from sleep on 9/11/01 by Roger Chagnon. "Dude, two planes have crashed into the World Trade Center, and one into the Pentagon." We stayed in front of the TV for the rest of the day. Classes were cancelled, but we weren't going to them anyway. Prayer services were organized, but I wasn't ready for that. And then George W. Bush, the man who I stayed up late to root for just a year earlier, draped his arm around a firefighter and said "I hear you. The world hears you. And soon, the people who knocked these towers down will hear all of us." And my heart surged. Why? What did I really want? Prayer services? No. Community? I'd rather not. Justice? Absolutely. I want it in spades. And so did everyone else.

I wanted it to mean something. I wanted to know that someone was to blame and that that someone was going to be found. I remeber feeling that way and I remember feeling the way I feel now, but I don't remember when it changed. Afghanistan seemed like the right thing. Saddam was behind it? Bring it on. He's been due anyways. He's got weapons? Even more reason. I remember watching CSPAN for what might have been the first time ever to watch Colin Powell present to the UN his proof for WMDs in Iraq. I think I finally started to think differently when the reports came that the searches were coming up empty. No weapons? But that was... And then I started to think about what I first felt when the towers were hit. It was anger, with a bit of rage, and a taste for vengeance.

And now I think about a cross. I think about Christ crucified and suffering the most gross of injustices, and all the while, "Father forgive them." I think of Stephen speaking truth and suffering injustice, and his prayer, " Lord, do not hold this against them."

And I think, much of what we as a nation did in those days was motivated by a lack of forgiveness. Where was my voice when the towers were struck, "Father, don't hold this against them. I don't. Father, forgive them." What would the actions of the last six years have looked like if our first inclination would be to forgive rather than to look for someone to punish? Even moreso, what would it have looked like if we had considered the log in our own eyes? Not that what happened on that day was a speck, but perhaps a consideration of that terrible attack as a reaction rather an action would have been wise. Maybe we would have been more blessed if we had been meek and merciful.

But the nation's policies are something for us to debate over coffee sometime. This September 11th, though, I want to remember the lack of forgiveness I felt six years ago. I want to repent of the ways I have held others in unforgiveness, and be the first who, in the face of gross injustices, says, "Father, forgive." I want to root out the places in my soul that desire vengeance and trust a God who loves justice and just loves. I don't want to be that person again, the person I was on 9/11/01. I want to mourn, that I might be comforted. I want to be merciful, that I might be shown mercy. I want to be pure in heart, that I might see God.