09/11/2021
Twenty Years Later...
Trauma will destroy hope, if we let it. If you believe in Evil be aware that its intent is to tear us apart, to dismantle with a viciousness that leaves us in despair – and hopelessness. The end result of that is a resignation that there is no one coming for us and we must take care of ourselves, by any means necessary.
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On September 11, 2001 our United States experienced a massive trauma. While those in the literal vicinity of the Twin Towers were dying, being crushed, burned, jumping to their deaths, or experiencing what seemed an apocalyptic event as they ran for their lives, there were millions of us transfixed by the images on the TV screen experiencing terror, confusion, grief, and anger. This can’t be happening to *us*; this is the United States! Our naivete and acquired arrogance that we are detached from terrorism, safe from attack, was shattered on that day. Like the twin towers, it crumbled to the ground and blew debris across our nation.
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But, immediately, we saw the unfolding stories of unification of our shared humanity. The First Responders, most of them admittedly in shock at the scope of what they were entering into, provided enumerable accounts of courage, compassion, and sacrifice as they did their “job” and pushed aside their own safety to rescue those that were trapped, traumatized, and confused at what was happening. So many of these responders *did* lose their lives. And others lost friends, family members, and endured the pounding sounds of jumpers hitting the building and pavement around them. I weep even now as I write this, unable to comprehend such a horror. They went up the stairs directly into the inferno.
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The stories of the First Responders bravery are inspiring, and we celebrate them. But, there were also incredible stories of courage undertaken by countless “civilians” who embraced the role of leading others out of the raging destruction, recognizing the humanity of their co-workers and strangers alike. This collective trauma forged a community of people searching for an escape from the death trap, and back into life – even as death was claiming so many.
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When the towers fell it seemed as though Evil had won. I imagine the terrorists were celebrating with glee as the images were being broadcast across the world. Indeed, it seemed apocalyptic as so many lives were snuffed out in the span of seconds. The word sobering comes to mind, but even that is not enough to describe it. Yet, acts of bravery and self-sacrifice continued as the search for survivors in the rubble began. Like all of our own best moments of courage and sacrifice, motives are seldom (if ever) entirely pure. To deny that there was fear, or pockets of cowardice, or hesitation is to deny our complexity – even in our finest hour. Chuck Sereika was a New York resident, self-described failure, a “loser” who was mired in depression, addiction, and resignation, and a paramedic who had let his license expire. The only reason he went to the site of the tower collapse that day was because he didn’t want to appear as a coward to his sister who assumed he was already there. Chuck confesses that he had already decided not to put himself in any danger as he arrived at Ground Zero. He just wanted to avoid more shame in the context of his family.
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And yet…when Chuck Sereika stepped foot onto the rubble, some buried desire within him to help people – the reason he *became* a paramedic – came to the surface. He climbed the rubble, much to his own surprise, and came upon a couple of marines who had discovered a hole that contained a survivor – 50-90 feet down. One of the marines unknowingly validated Chuck, excitedly telling him that indeed, *he* was the cavalry they needed. And Sereika entered the hellhole, making his way down to the survivor trapped under concrete and rebar debris, unable to move. It would take hours of moving debris and being present with the survivor before more helped arrived. The man who felt like a misfit, a victim of childhood physical, emotional, and physical abuse, an eternal loser, a shameful member of his family had now become *himself* - an integral part of the rescue of another.
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I can’t explain why so many died that day while others lived. It is difficult, at best, to reconcile the horror of that terrible day with the redemptive stories that emerged from it. It *should* give us pause. We *should* grieve. And yet, we should *not* let hopelessness and despair, or failure, or fear, or shame follow the grieving. I watched the National Geographic docuseries, “9/11, One Day in America,” which is what prompted me to write this. It is hard to watch. I wept countless times as I heard story after story and gazed upon weeping face after weeping face. The images of death are graphic and startling. But I found the images of rescue, relationship, and life to be even more compelling.
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From Bruce Springsteen’s album “The Rising,” a musical commentary of the events of 9/11, there is the tribute to the heroes that run up the stairs; into the fire. The First Responders, the civilians, and the Chuck Seirekas, all of them a mixed bag of fears, personal failures, and inner desires to be the best humans they could be, deserve to be honored, remembered, and validated as inspirations for us today.
Bruce Springsteen, 'Into the Fire' Live In BarcelonaListen to your favorite Bruce Springsteen songs: https://LegacyRecordings.lnk.to/bs_tt!itfOn October 16, ...
