#77, October 3, 2002
I hadn't felt like that since my father died.
Tuesday morning I watched the video footage with shock and
horror. I don't remember much of my bike ride down I Street, except once
bursting into tears and screaming at the sky. "You Bastards! Look what
you've done!"
I survived the day by turning inward, putting every ounce of
concentration into my work. Everyone was talking about "it." I kept
it to myself, replaying the ghastly image of the tower's helpless slump into
that rising mushroom cloud, like a child being swallowed by a cruel demon of
the underworld.
And I knew: just as the full extent of the Manhattan
casualties would be revealed with the clearing of the smoke and ash, the damage
to humanity would emerge in the weeks and months to come. If this meant war,
what kind of war would it be? What would it do to those fragile
citizen-sponsored ventures to craft non-violent resolution of conflicts in
places like Palestine? Would Muslims be erected as the new "enemy" to
replace the Soviet evil empire? Would even more of the fruits of the world's
labors be snatched from the mouths of children to feed the militaries and
militias? "You idiots! Why, why, why?!"
After the pain of my father's untimely death faded, I sank
into a depression. But one morning my Dad's spirit lifted my chin and said,
"this isn't what either of us want." In an instant, I was in charge
of my life again.
Now I wonder what will come of our national anguish? How
will we honor the dead, catch and punish the perpetrators, and prevent further
terror? President Bush asks us to prepare for a long, new kind of war. I ask
you the same, but I have something else in mind.
The only brightness in that dark day came from heroes; the
firefighters, police, and office workers who risked, and lost, their lives in
attempts to save people they never knew; and those people on Flight 93 who,
facing certain death, managed to overpower the terrorists and bring the jet
down short of its Washington, DC target.
We honor their heroism not just out of gratitude for the
results, or even their good intentions. There is something powerfully appealing
to humans about selfless service, about sacrificing one's fortunes, comforts,
even lives, for the benefit of others. Perhaps it's because it reveals a truth
about the world that we know deep in our hearts: we are one. The fact that the
Golden Rule-- the simple, practical reflection of this unity-- is found in all
of the world's religions is evidence of this truth.
You can be a hero, and stop not only terrorism, but all
forms of war, and even someday (for us dreamers!) all violence--- if you are
willing to fight "the war within."
This war will not be quick or easy. It's the universal spiritual
struggle between selfishness and selflessness, between fear and love. Its
decorated veterans include Jesus, the Buddha, and Gandhi. The Islam prophet
Mohammad spoke of the "greater jihad" not as an external
campaign, but an internal striving for self-control and betterment. In a famous
Native American prayer, a warrior asks for strength, "not to be greater
than my brother or sister, but to defeat my greatest enemy--
myself."
This is a war fought by meditation and internal prayer, the
practice of selfless service, and other spiritual disciplines proven to
eliminate the prejudices that separate us from the truth about others and
ourselves. As we win this inner war, we'll see more clearly what we must do
in every aspect of our outer life-- political, social, and economic. And
we'll gain the power to heroically and non-violently transform the world in
ways we can today hardly imagine.
A reporter questioned one of Gandhi's followers about the
practicality of his methods, arguing that Gandhi "failed to reckon with
the limits of our capacities." She
replied, eyes twinkling joyfully, "There are no limits to our
capacities." I pray September 11
marks the day that we humans began in earnest to explore our capacity for
limitless heroic love.