Reflections
 17 Months
by LDRNY Executive Director John J. Scibilia
Dear Friends,
It’s 17 months since 9/11/01.
Seventeen months since, and the wave effects of the disaster continue to evolve with severe economic and emotional impact. A report released indicates more than half of the 176,000 job losses in New York can be traced to the economic aftershocks of September 11. Homelessness is at an all time high in New York's recorded history. Some food programs have experienced triple digit percentage increases in participation. And even as the nation's economy is showing signs of recovery, New York City continues to be in a downward spiral countering that national trend. When a client recently contacted a care manager at Project LIFE (Lutheran Initiative for Assistance) for help, the client was asked if she was affected by 9/11. Her response was clear, "Who isn't around here?"
People here are on edge 17 months later. There is an increase in the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder diagnosis related to 9/11. For many who believed their symptoms would fade away with time are just now beginning to seek help. Just last week LDRNY assisted one woman experiencing PTSD who lost 17 friends on September 11 and needed to leave her job because of the documented verbal abuse of her boss telling her to get over it. Another woman experienced a mental collapse as she could no longer answer the phone for her company with the answer "he is no longer with the firm" knowing the reason was many of those no longer with the firm died on September 11. The abused, the immigrants, the children, those in poverty and the working poor often experience emotional trauma due to the economic and other issues directly related to 9/11. It is a vicious co-dependent effect cycle that is destroying lives every single day.
Many of us in the disaster response community have made the observation that people's nerves seem as tight now as they were just after 9/11. Arguments and downright fights over relatively obscure and unimportant issues are almost commonplace. The high energy and emotion of the first months of rescue and recovery is as high as ever this many months into recovery. Many case workers, care givers, disaster responders and leaders are exhausted.
Why is it difficult to make significant strides in the "moving on" process seventeen months later? Well consider just the past few days in New York City.
Seventeen months later, Code Orange is announced. Once again there is a strong visible sign of military and police presence. It was tough to find duct tape and plastic sheets in any store, regardless of the fact most people here believed it really wouldn't make any difference. Tom Ridge made it clear publicly that Homeland Security continues to believe the two primary targets in the US are Washington, D.C. And New York City. All this in the midst of the United States government making its case for war at the United Nations headquarters in New York City.
Parents are calling schools frantically wanting to know about their children's safety. They are scared. As they share their fears, their children's anxiety levels increase drastically. I've had reports of children again talking a great deal about the 'towers.' And, imagine those who have family in the military being positioned now in the middle east. Schools are extremely vulnerable. Some may remember nuclear attack drills of hiding under desks and getting into a yoga position in the hallways. It was the 1960s version of duct tape and plastic sheeting. Looking back, we know that wouldn't have protected us. So, parents want to know what a school will do in a disaster, and duct tape will not address that concern.
A television report was aired here titled "Tunnels of Terror" which described the danger of an attack in the subway tunnels. Obviously this kind of media hype is a problem. But, the information being reported is absolutely accurate about the potential dangers in those tunnels. The next day I was on a rush hour subway when the train came to a grinding halt and were told the train would not stop at Penn Station which was closed due to police activity. Penn Station is a major rail transportation hub in mid-town Manhattan. Looking into the eyes of my fellow riders, there was naked fear and you could hear a pin drop. On September 10, 2001, most New Yorkers would have simply been annoyed at this inconvenience and had plenty of creative words to share about whoever they thought might have caused this problem. The increasingly common announcements like this now have one thinking, perhaps those are the last words I'll ever hear. Melodramatic? It may sound that way. But, knowing the context in which we now live and what was experienced here seventeen plus months ago leaving a gapping wound, it is at least understandable.
The President's Day blizzard seventeen months since 9/11. Now New Yorkers jammed the stores in a frenzy for the second time in a week. This time it was to purchase bread and milk. This snow was almost a welcomed natural weather disaster. The city was reminded nature too can have an ugly effect. On that day I again ventured into the subway as a young man came bolting up the steps yelling at me, "don't go down there dude. There a people wall to wall. Something is going to happen. It happened in South Korea, it can happen right here." And, when I did get on the almost enough standing room only train, it was again an experience of being held in a station because of police activity at the next station. The voice of the conductor was a duet with a man in my car carrying a bucket asking for change as he needed $2,000 to bury his 5 month old daughter who was killed in a house fire. He actually was showing the death certificate to those who wanted to see. What a way to start the day.
Seventeen months later, many disaster related agencies and organizations are now spending their efforts and resources primarily in emergency and disaster preparedness in New York City. In disaster the larger agencies and organizations such as the American Red Cross and FEMA carry much of the burden initially. Now their programs, which have helped many, are coming to an end. Unfortunately, thousands have been left behind. For example, some people are just now coming forward for financial assistance. They've exhausted their savings and run their credit to high limits believing they could make it without having to get assistance. Now that it is clear to them they need help, the registration deadlines have past and programs have very tight restrictions for assistance at this point. Free counseling session provided through FEMA funded and New York State operated Project Liberty involve only a couple of sessions. In many cases, such as PTSD, that doesn't begin to scratch the surface.
It is clear to Lutheran Disaster Response of New York seventeen months later, that as the Church, we are called upon to fill the gaps left by other government and disaster-related relief organizations. it is clear that many people were affected by 9/11 and and fall outside the strict geographical and employment assistance guidelines set by other organizations. Many people lost jobs as a result of the disaster, as well as homes and places of business. We realize that 9/11 is weaving itself in the lives of every New Yorker seventeen months later. Each day we set out to identify who the hidden victims are, and how we can help. Our goal was never to simply throw money at a problem, but rather, to help people heal, recover and move on with their lives ú on their own timetable and with the help of God. That has meant LDRNY and its partner agencies and organizations providing help in job-training, language assistance, understanding and navigating the public assistance system, housing, counseling, tuition assistance, care management, training and food assistance. Programs made possible through LDRNY have touched the lives of thousands of people. LDRNY is committed to work tirelessly well past this 17-month-plus mark since 9/11.
In Christ,
John J. Scibilia
LDRNY Executive Director
The Cross at Ground Zero
A book of sermons preached in the New York area by visiting ELCA pastors from across the country last April. The book has been edited by Gaylon Barker of the Center for Public Theology, and funded by LDRNY.
To order a copy, send a check for $17.95, plus $2.25 shipping and handling, ($3.75, for 3 books, $5 for four books, $1 for each additonal book beyond four) to:
Center for Public Theology
2 Murray Hill Road
Scarsdale, NY 10583
For information, call 914-725-9410, or Hgaylonbarker@prodigy.net.
Make check payable to: Lutheran Disaster Response of New York.
Gil Furst of ELCA Domestic Disaster Response and Lutheran Disaster Response gives a message on "Where Was God?" on Sept. 11.
Dear friends in Christ,
This week our memories recall vivid images of last year’s September 11 attacks. My mind sees dust-covered firefighters climbing stairs to rescue people from the WorldTrade Center towers, and exhausted emergency workers climbing huge piles of rubblesearching for survivors. I see pastors and chaplains offering words of hope or consolation to stunned and shocked survivors. I see teachers calming upset students. Isee congregations gathering for worship, and neighbors praying with neighbors. I seepiles of letters, offers of help, and generous donations.
Some ask, “Where was God in all this?” My answer always includes some of those vividimages. From the moment the first plane struck, the church responded as the church.And the church will continue to respond for the long haul, in New York, New Jersey, Washington D.C., in Afghanistan. We who are in Christ are “Easter people,” changed byJesus’ resurrection. We do not come empty-handed to life situations, even to situationsas terrible and global as this.
“For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” Where was God in all this? God was in the ashes and the dust, in the destruction and the blood,reaching out in sorrow and compassion as our hands were reaching out to help. We people of hope worship a resurrected Lord who is always present with God’s people.Where was God? God was there. God is still there. Those who suffer are supported byGod’s grace. Those who respond are God’s enfolding arms and healing hands, providing comfort and renewal by word and deed.
(Inspired by Matthew 18:15-20)
Yours in Christ,
Gilbert B. Furst
Director, ELCA Domestic Disaster Response
and Lutheran Disaster Response
 There's No Getting Away from It
By Wendy Healy, LDRNY Communications
It’s easy when you’re 60 miles north of Ground Zero to think that Sept. 11 is last year’s news and that we’re getting over it.
Just about half of our Lutheran churches are outside New York City,“safely” in the suburbs. If you don’t belong to a community where someone was killed, the emotional sting of 9/11 might be fading.
I’m one of those people in the suburbs. When I recently drove toQueens to visit one of the New Ground camps, I realized just how close to home 9/11 was for New Yorkers.
I crossed over the Whitestone Bridge, got off the Grand CentralParkway, and headed west on Northern Boulevard, down block after block of ethnic groceries, White Castle hamburgers, check-cashing joints, and redlights.
With my car pointing right at Manhattan, the American Express building comes into view. For me, it’s now the only thing distinguishableabout the downtown skyline. I immediately recognize it by the pyramid-shaped roof that was next to the Twin Towers.
While it sits across an entire river from Queens, I think how close itseems on this clear, sunny day. What a beautiful view of Manhattan I have.
I then imagine what an excellent vantage point the people of Queens must’ve had to watch the Twin Towers burn. What a close-up they had ofthe smoke that I only saw on TV, or the stench that newscasters only told meabout. Or the friends, colleagues and neighbors who died.
A teacher in Rainbow Preschool at St. Jacobus Lutheran Church toldme that for a few days after 9/11, the smoke was so bad that the kidscouldn’t play outside. Some now equate smoke with terrorism.
I can find ways to not dwell on 9/11. I can avoid TV news, ignore New York City newspapers and go about my suburban life. But for thepeople of New York City, there’s no getting away from it. Traveling into work, taking kids to school, or driving down Northern Boulevard for coffee,is a constant reminder.
As long as the skyline has this big hole, there’s remembrance of what was. I pray that we put our hope in God for the promise of what will be.
Re-Membering Amid Fear and Despair:Thoughts About Ministry After 9-11
By the Rev. Fritz Wendt
When in the summer of 1985 I made New York my new home, I was overwhelmed by this city’s enormity and magnitude. For my first birthday away from my German home, I took my colleagues in the chaplaincy program to the top of the World Trade Center. Watching the traffic from the grand Observation Platform, far removed from the bustling chaos down below, I felt both intimidated and captivated. It was then that I began to have an inkling of the fact that this was a city of contradictions.
Throughout my seventeen years in New York I have always had a sense that the people of New York take their city’s contradictions for granted. One contradiction is new, however: since 9-11-01 there is the harsh incongruity between our public facade (the typical “business as usual” attitude) and our private wounds (which everyone carries, whether or not one of our loved ones perished during the tragedy). “The show must go on”, yet, inside we are hurting. For the first two weeks I was often speechless, sometimes literally, but most of all theologically.
My first sermon after 9-11 began as a simple narrative in which I used snapshots from my own experience: sitting one night in the enormous family assistance center on Peer 94, filled with the pictures of those missing; breathing in ashes from Ground Zero near the Fulton Street Station; ascending to the top of the Empire State Building on the night of its reopening. After describing my feelings of loss, despair and fear, my sermon moved on to the question on everyone’s mind: Why did God allow this to take place?
That morning, we realized that our “why” questions about 9-11 need no answers; that they are really statements about how desolate and alone we feel in the midst of tragedy. We spoke of God as the all-suffering, who takes us by our hand, and lovingly lets us know that there is One who continues to be committed to harmony and beauty in the world, to our wholeness, to “health and salvation”. We spoke of God as the One who in the face of utmost terror reminds us of where we belong. As we re-membered, our spiritual brokenness came into view. As people in despair we needed to make God part of our lives again. We remembered the One who (as the old German hymn has it) “from our mothers’ arms has blessed us on our way with countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.” Of course, the work of grief is not over; theology helps, and bringing God back into view helps, and talking about it helps. But most of all, time will help to heal what hurts us. All time is God’s own.
Life and survival in New York is riddled with contradiction, especially in these times. But since all time is God’s who’s “got the whole world in his hand”, no one (“nobody” and “not a soul”) will need to journey alone. God is waiting on the road. Thanks be to God!
(The Rev. Fritz Wendt lives and works as a Lutheran pastor, psychotherapist and musician in Harlem, New York. A shorter version of this article was originally written for and publicized in the March edition of the German magazine “Zeitzeichen”).
 Ground Zero, I'm No Hero
By Jon Wright, St. John's, Freeport Fire Department Volunteer Fireman at Ground Zero
As minutes turned into hours and hours started turning into days, anxiety absorbed us with the outcome of this diabolical incident. Some tried returning to work, but somehow we always ended up at the firehouse. Personally, I found concentrating on work difficult. I made it my personal business to go to the chief's office every day, sometimes three and four times a day to check on our brothers that were missing. The answer was always the same. "Nothing new." My stomach was constantly in knots.
 Download entire journal.
Grace at Ground Zero Booklet
Download
A Moment of Clarity
By Jean Carlson, St. Luke's, New Rochelle
President Bush stated that evil is real and must be oppressed!
This, I feel, is a turning point for the world to wake up and stop the evil and destruction that could cause the end of all as we know it to be! What seemed important a few months ago (in the media at least) became instantly trivial on 9/11.
This was an evil brought to near perfection in a dramatically terrifying form. This time we saw a production set up for us so that after the first plane hit the whole country was watching. The images seen had the power to transfix us by the surreal events to come.
I don't think we Americans are equipped to handle this kind of focused brutality. Now that we are equipped with a weapon called hatred, how could anyone not be angry with the people who did this and the people who cheer them on? This is a moment of clarity, let the civilized toughen up and the uncivilized get ready to finish what they started. The sleeping giant has once again awakened!
We all may have to make adjustments to our lifestyle to serve our country in order to continue to have the things we have all taken for granted -- freedom, peace, security for all. I cannot remember a time that I have seen or felt the strength and respect for patriotism as I see in America today.
My father was a WWII veteran and would be proud to see the American spirit alive again so many years after the Vietnam conflict lead to its demise. He would also be proud to have a president who has brought back some honor and respect for the office. Our firemen, government workers and police force, and all American service men and women, have our respect as never before. That they will continue to rise to the level expected of them, I am sure.
I plan to continue to pray every day for them and our country, but I also plan to stay angry, an all-American kind of fury, and one that never goes away!
God Bless America.
Jean Carlson is a member of St. Luke's, New Rochelle.
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Pr. Tom Taylor of Grace Lutheran, North Bellmore, at the rail on the family viewing platform at Ground Zero. |
Lest We Forget
By Pr. Tom Taylor, Grace Lutheran, North Bellmore A volunteer at Ground Zero
"Like his dad before him, my father was a fireman in NYC. He was appointed to the New York City Fire Department on January 9, 1982. He married my mom and they had me. I'm 21, and my three brothers, Bob, 19, Dan, 17, and Alex, 13. My dad was very proud to be a firefighter. He loved what he did. He was working even when he wasn't on duty, lending a hand to anyone in need. He loved to point to the sky to make people look up he would walk away and laugh.
My father was a wonderful man and a huge family man. He loved being with us on vacation or taking my brothers and cousins to baseball games. I just know that my dad wouldn't have wanted to die any other way. He would have been there even if he wasn't on duty. I've never been more proud of anyone in my life". -Jeanine Wallace
The bios in the New York Times and Newsday had these words: "Bobby's mother said he got great joy out of everything in life." From a young age, Bobby Wallace knew he wanted to follow in the footsteps of his father, Eugene Wallace, a retired fire department Lieutenant, his mother said. Bobby's wife, Nancy, remembers her husband of 21 years for his wacky sense of humor." Lt. Wallace's son, Daniel, recalls taking trips to his father's firehouse when he was a boy and being inspired by the relationships between Wallace and his fellow firefighters. "He would do the best job he could," Daniel said. Now, Daniel is taking the first steps to becoming a firefighter like his dad. Nancy Wallace recalled: "My family used to tease him and he'd say (in humor) 'No, I'm going off to fight fires and save the people of New York.' " But on Sept. 11, Lt. Bobby Wallace did just that. Lest we forget.
Outside the morgue at Ground Zero is the now famous cross found in the rubble after 9/11. It stands on a concrete base, lifted high and lit with spotlights at night. It is a powerful reminder to me and all who work and volunteer there of God's presence. It was beneath this cross of Jesus, while taking a walk on the ledge outside the morgue where Sunday Mass is given, that I discovered writing on the concrete. This is what it said: "E 226, E 205, L 118 Lt. Bobby Wallace, I love you, Mommy. 3/17/02"
Ironically, the day New York Police Lt. Steve Dato and I helped lead the tour of the Bishops at Ground Zero I found another reminder of Bobby. It was on the old family platform, where we had permission to go. As I walked around looking at photos and candles, I leaned on the wooden railing. As I looked down on all the scrawled writings in the wood, were these words, "Lt. Bobby Wallace. Love and miss you, Dad 4/02."
I was stunned. What were the odds I would find two writings from a firefighter"s parents in two separate locations amidst the thousands? Was it a coincidence? Was there a message for me?
Lt. Bobby Wallace was one of the early 3,000 human beings, one of the over 400 rescue workers, one of the 343 firefighters to die on Sept. 11. He was the covering officer on Engine 226 that day. I never heard of Lt. Wallace before, never saw his face, didn't know of his family or anything about him. I looked up his bio in Newsday and the New York Times.
I also found a web page with a note from his daughter. This is what she wrote: "My Dad: Lt. Bobby Wallace — Born in 1958 in Midwood, Brooklyn. My dad was a FDNY lieutenant, a full life, a face of humor and courage." Across from the desk in my office is a poster with the names and faces of the 343 firefighters who gave their lives on 9/11. Before I turn off the lights at night, close the door and leave my office, I look at the bottom of the poster where the "W's" are. I find the name and face of Lt. Robert Wallace, husband, father, son, friend, firefighter, hero.
And I whisper the words to myself, "Thank you, Bobby." Lest I forget.
The Woman at the Wall
By Wendy Healy, LDRNY Communications
Over the last few months, I've talked to dozens of people about how they've been affected by Sept. 11. I've interviewed folks who've lost jobs, loved ones and hope. I've shared with you stories of how our Lutheran counselors have helped those who are hurting, and of the volunteers who have hurt too much not to help.
It has meant a lot to share these stories with you – writing has helped me heal from the events of Sept. 11. No story, however, has struck me as deeply as the sight of a woman grieving at the wall on the family viewing platform at Ground Zero.
On April 6, I accompanied Bishops from ELCA synods all around the country when they came to New York City to visit Ground Zero. I tagged along to take photos for this newsletter. The one picture that I couldn't shoot, however, is the one that I most want to show you – a family member grieving hysterically for a loved one. It was a visual reminder that Sept. 11 may never end for some, and the work of LDRNY must continue.
The Bishops had stopped to see Ground Zero from the family viewing platform, an enclosed area now reserved solely for victims' families. The platform is approximately 20 feet by 40 feet, a simple plywood construction. One wall is open to overlook the site. People have scribbled notes on every inch of the wooden railing that prevents them from falling off the platform. The back wall is a makeshift bulletin board of photos, flowers, mementos and notes. One Post-It note pasted on a photo read, "Stan, you had a baby girl." Another said, "Happy Birthday." A wife wrote, "To my beloved husband, I will miss you for the rest of my life."
An 8-by-10 photo of a pretty young woman with long brown hair was tacked to the wall about 3 feet from the plywood floor. Inches from the photo, an older woman sat rocking back and forth on her makeshift seat, perhaps a milk crate, sobbing loudly as she caressed the photo. Since she was the only family visitor at the platform during my 10-minute stay, it was hard not to notice her. Although I didn't want to, I couldn't help but look.
I felt sad for her but also judgmental. Why was she doing this? This couldn't be healthy. She'll never move on if she keeps this up. I also wondered whether this had become a daily ritual or if perhaps this was a significant day, like the pretty girl's birthday. I hoped it was a one-time event but was afraid it wasn't.
I know that there is no right or wrong way to grieve. We're all grieving over Sept. 11 in our own unique ways. Some of us have made our tears public, while others have shut down and gone numb. To cope, some have perhaps drunk too much or resorted to anger. Some have crawled into bed and pulled the covers up, while others can't seem to sleep. Depression is a private prison for many.
The woman at the wall on April 6 chose to put her grief out there for all to see. Just like the woman at the well in the Gospel of John, she showed her pain, whether it was for a lost life or a life of loss. The woman at the well had a sense of loss – an ostracized Samaritan, five-time divorcee, she was now shacking up with a man but was very much alone. Jesus comes to her at the well when no one else would.
He seems to find us when we're too angry, alone or upset to even look for him. When we need him the most, we're often the least able to call for him. Sometimes, we can't even see him, because our eyes are too blurred with tears.
I think about the woman at the wall. I hope she's not still sitting there, and that she has found comfort through programs like LDRNY. I know that Jesus is standing next to her. As she weeps, he weeps. I pray that she recognizes him standing by that milk crate, and that she opens her heart to him.
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