Rest In Peace
A Spiritual Perspective on the World Trade Center Tragedy
by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat
9/11/01. The day after we launched this redesign of the Spirituality
& Health website, we came to our desks to learn of the terrorist
attacks on the World Trade Center in New York City. The editorial offices of
Spirituality & Health's print magazine are located just three blocks
from the Twin Towers, directly behind historic Trinity Church at the end of
Wall Street. Our own offices are further uptown on 24th Street, and from our
windows looking south we could see only the clear blue sky over what we knew
from the television pictures was a towering inferno. It was late in the morning
when we learned that the staff of the magazine had been safely evacuated to
Staten Island via ferry.
How do we see this terrible event from a spiritual perspective? How do we respond with words and images to the complexity and magnitude and mystery of this day of death and destruction? From the news reports and interviews with public figures, we are already being barraged with outraged and angry rhetoric. The attacks are being called an "act of war," the worst attack on America since Pearl Harbor, a day of infamy, the very worst of human nature. Some are demanding a swift and merciless retaliation, even before we know who was behind these terrible acts.
All the world's religions encourage us to forgive those who have hurt us, to do good to those who hate us, and to pray for those who abuse us. Christians recall Jesus' admonition to love our enemies. Jews cling to the practice of shalom. Muslims rely upon Allah, the most compassionate and the most merciful, to guide their relationships with others. In the aftermath of the tragedy, leaders from all spiritual traditions have condemned the violence, pointing out that no cause justifies such immoral acts.
After searching our souls, we have found ourselves drawn back to the spiritual practices of compassion, connections, and unity conveyed so beautifully in Thich Nhat Hanh's classic poem "Please Call Me by My True Names." (Read the poem or hear Thich Nhat Hanh read it.)
This Vietnamese Buddhist monk and peace activist has seen the suffering of war firsthand and written often about the attitudes that lead to real peace (his latest is Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames). He refuses to divide the world into easily identifiable victims and villains. With powerful prose and vivid imagery, he reaches out to take into his heart all those who are suffering — the innocent and the violent, the powerful and the powerless, the oppressed and the oppressors. In "Please Call Me by My True Names," he practices radical empathy as he identifies with a frog and the snake that eats it, then with a starving child in Uganda and the arms merchant who sells deadly weapons to Uganda. In a very poignant passage, he describes himself as a 12-year-old girl raped by a sea pirate and as the pirate whose "heart [is] not yet capable of seeing and loving."
No one, Thich Nhat Hanh demonstrates in this poem, can be excluded from our thoughts and prayers. Even elements of the natural world and things are to be cherished as recipients of our compassion. Even the perpetrators of horrible violence are part of the many names we call ourselves. "Please call me by my true names," he pleads, "so I can see that my joy and pain are one . . . and the door of my heart could be left open, the door of compassion."
We live in a city in shock and grief. We identify deeply with the pain of our neighbors. We share the joy at news of reunions taking place and rescues being accomplished. We are disquieted by the loss of life, the destruction of a section of the city we know and love, the disruption of so many lives, and the palpable fear and numbness gripping Americans and others around the world. Yet we are also disquieted by the mood of hate spreading across the land, by the rush to judgment, the need to immediately affix blame, and the very real likelihood that an entire group of people will be demonized and stereotyped because of the acts of a few. How do we respond?
We pray for the victims and those who are trying to help them. We pray for the dead, may they rest in peace, and their families and friends, may they know peace. We pray for those seeking to learn who was behind these attacks, may they be clear-headed and thorough. We pray for our government leaders, may they have the wisdom to handle this crisis without contributing to further violence. We pray for the people of the world, may we learn what needs to be learned from these overwhelming events, and may we respond to them in the best way possible with the help of the One who sustains us all.
We pray — and we offer this poem. Please call us by these names so that we may open the door of compassion.
Rest In Peace
I am a World Trade Center tower, standing tall in the clear blue sky, feeling
a violent blow in my side, and
I am a towering inferno of pain and suffering imploding upon myself and collapsing
to the ground.
May I rest in peace.
I am a terrified passenger on a hijacked airplane not knowing where we are
going or that I am riding on fuel tanks that will be instruments of death, and
I am a worker arriving at my office not knowing that in just a moment my future
will be obliterated.
May I rest in peace.
I am a pigeon in the plaza between the two towers eating crumbs from someone's
breakfast when fire rains down on me from the skies, and
I am a bed of flowers admired daily by thousands of tourists now buried under
five stories of rubble.
May I rest in peace.
I am a firefighter sent into dark corridors of smoke and debris on a mission
of mercy only to have it collapse around me, and
I am a rescue worker risking my life to save lives who is very aware that I
may not make it out alive.
May I rest in peace.
I am a survivor who has fled down the stairs and out of the building to safety
who knows that nothing will ever be the same in my soul again, and
I am a doctor in a hospital treating patients burned from head to toe who knows
that these horrible images will remain in my mind forever.
May I know peace.
I am a tourist in Times Square looking up at the giant TV screens thinking
I'm seeing a disaster movie as I watch the Twin Towers crash to the ground,
and
I am a New York woman sending e-mails to friends and family letting them know
that I am safe.
May I know peace.
I am a piece of paper that was on someone's desk this morning and now I'm debris
scattered by the wind across lower Manhattan, and
I am a stone in the graveyard at Trinity Church covered with soot from the buildings
that once stood proudly above me, death meeting death.
May I rest in peace.
I am a dog sniffing in the rubble for signs of life, doing my best to be of
service, and
I am a blood donor waiting in line to make a simple but very needed contribution
for the victims.
May I know peace.
I am a resident in an apartment in downtown New York who has been forced to
evacuate my home, and
I am a resident in an apartment uptown who has walked 100 blocks home in a stream
of other refugees.
May I know peace.
I am a family member who has just learned that someone I love has died, and
I am a pastor who must comfort someone who has suffered a heart-breaking loss.
May I know peace.
I am a loyal American who feels violated and vows to stand behind any military
action it takes to wipe terrorists off the face of the earth, and
I am a loyal American who feels violated and worries that people who look and
sound like me are all going to be blamed for this tragedy.
May I know peace.
I am a frightened city dweller who wonders whether I'll ever feel safe in a
skyscraper again, and
I am a pilot who wonders whether there will ever be a way to make the skies
truly safe.
May I know peace.
I am the owner of a small store with five employees that has been put out of
business by this tragedy, and
I am an executive in a multinational corporation who is concerned about the
cost of doing business in a terrorized world.
May I know peace.
I am a visitor to New York City who purchases postcards of the World Trade
Center Twin Towers that are no more, and
I am a television reporter trying to put into words the terrible things I have
seen.
May I know peace.
I am a boy in New Jersey waiting for a father who will never come home, and
I am a boy in a faraway country rejoicing in the streets of my village because
someone has hurt the hated Americans.
May I know peace.
I am a general talking into the microphones about how we must stop the terrorist
cowards who have perpetrated this heinous crime, and
I am an intelligence officer trying to discern how such a thing could have happened
on American soil, and
I am a city official trying to find ways to alleviate the suffering of my people.
May I know peace.
I am a terrorist whose hatred for America knows no limit and I am willing to
die to prove it, and
I am a terrorist sympathizer standing with all the enemies of American capitalism
and imperialism, and
I am a master strategist for a terrorist group who planned this abomination.
My heart is not yet capable of openness, tolerance, and loving.
May I know peace.
I am a citizen of the world glued to my television set, fighting back my rage
and despair at these horrible events, and
I am a person of faith struggling to forgive the unforgivable, praying for the
consolation of those who have lost loved ones, calling upon the merciful beneficence
of God/Yahweh/Allah/Spirit/Higher Power.
May I know peace.
I am a child of God who believes that we are all children of God and we are
all part of each other.
May we all know peace.
- Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat
Media and Web Editors
Spirituality & Health
[ Copyright © 2001 by Frederic and Mary Brussat. All rights reserved. ]