By Father Casey

Twenty five years. It's amazing to think it's been that long. That we've now raised an entire generation into adulthood who were not even alive when the planes hit the towers.

The anniversary of 9/11 is always somber. We feel compelled to remember where we were, who we were with, and what happened to us that day. Those who lived in New York tell their harrowing tales of smoke and ash. Those who were traveling tell of forced landings in strange places and the struggle to get home. Those who did nothing more than watch our televisions tell of the searing that happened in our souls as we stared at the footage.

The mantra of the anniversary has always been "Never Forget." We pledged to never forget the heroism of the responders who rushed into burning buildings. We pledged to never forget the sacrifices of the crews who labored day after day to search for survivors. We pledged to never forget the victims and the nightmare of their final moments. Never forget, we told ourselves.

And yet, in spite of our promises to never forget, a lot of us Christians did, indeed, forget. In the aftermath of the attacks, we forgot the way of Jesus and the teachings of our Lord. We forgot our calling to be agents of peace and ambassadors of reconciliation. We forgot that vengeance is not a Christian's duty, forgiveness is. And so, in the haze of dust and chaos, we lost our way.

It's a sad fact of human nature that it only takes a few moments for fear and hatred to undo years of patient goodness, and years again to repair the damage. If only God had made the world to operate the other way around, with sin requiring far more effort than goodness. But we've all lived long enough to know how fast the floor can fall from beneath us, and how long it takes to reassemble the pieces again. Which is to say, the stakes are always high when we let fear and anger have their way – as individuals and as whole societies. I can't recall a time when I allowed those two riders to climb atop my horse that I didn't soon regret it.

Not everyone succumbed to the worst whispers in those sad and scary days. One of my favorite musicals of all time is Come From Away, which tells the true story of the small community of Gander, Newfoundland in the aftermath of 9/11. It is home to a large commercial airport – a holdover from the era when transatlantic air travel required a stopover for fuel – and so when all American air space was closed, 38 jumbo jets were forced to land there. While most of us sat glued to our televisions, stewing in anxiety and anger, the people of Gander were welcoming thousands of strangers into their midst. But rather than keep all these unexpected and undesired guests at arm's length or behind a fence, they opened their homes, churches, and schools. To this day, I can't watch Come From Away without crying. When so many let an awful act of evil make them forget how to be good, Gander remembered who they really are.

Tragedies don't have to bring out our worst. If we can channel the Spirit within us, they can actually bring out our best. The worst things in life don't have to lead us into darkness or despair; they can summon us to shine brighter and love better. But to do that, we have to remember the one who knows the way.

Casey +