It’s interesting how we sometimes forget.
I had almost forgotten about today’s significance until I drove in this morning and heard about the ceremonies at the World Trade Center Memorial, Washington D.C., and elsewhere.
“Oh, that’s right,” I thought to myself. “It’s 9/11.”
Just three months ago, a fire tore through much of my hometown. But I barely remember it until I walk outside my back door and see the burn on the hillside above.
We’re less than two months removed from the massacre in Aurora, Colo., when a gunman opened fire on a crowded movie theater. He killed 12 people and injured 58 more. But even though I thought and wrote much about that day, it seems so distant now—or it did, until one of the injured, Pierce O’Farrill, spoke at our church this weekend, talking about how he had forgiven the gunman.
He was shot three times that night, and his arm is held together with pins screwed through his skin and bone. For him, I’m sure it’s like it was yesterday.
I went to a funeral yesterday for a friend of mine. It was a beautiful service. He was in his early 50s when he died, but sitting there, I was struck by what a full life he had lived—how many people he’d touched in his short time here. I hugged his wife and kids and knew that their own lives would never be the same.
I was deeply moved … and then I came back to work and finished up some stuff.
We’re forgetful sometimes—a blessing and a curse, I suppose. We move on because we have to. We’ve got work to do, our own lives to live. We don’t have the luxury of throwing on sackcloth and ashes for others these days … at least for not too long. And perhaps that’s a good thing, in a way. It’d be way too easy for us otherwise to be overwhelmed with grief, to sink into pits of anxiety and hurt that’d be impossible to climb out of.
And yet it’s not good to forget too much. Yesterday, my pastor said the worst sort of pain is that which seems to be meaningless, pointless. The only way that we can bring meaning to pain is by remembering: To honor those who died in 9/11; to embrace the heroism and struggle that came of a fire; to celebrate lives well lived. We learn from pain. We can grow from it.
The media we surround ourselves with makes forgetting easier, sometimes. We flip on the television to lose ourselves for a bit, go to movies to fall into another story. They say we’re becoming less empathetic as a society; we shield ourselves from unnecessary pain, keeping our distance when we can.
But media makes it easier for us to remember, too: A song reminds us of a dear friend or a moment in time. A movie or documentary chronicles a life-changing event. Even a simple tweet or text can bring a modicum of comfort to those suffering. It’s not the same as a hug or a home-cooked meal, but it’s something.
As we remember today, we should remember that many among us are still hurting—both from the events of 9/11 and from countless other tragedies, whether they made the nightly news or not. And maybe if we think about it, we can bring a little comfort to them.
We’re forgetful creatures. It’s in our nature. But my prayer today, for me, is that I remember what and when I should.
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