An Imam at Ground Zero

It's hard to believe that the tenth anniversary of the terror attacks of 9/11 is already upon us. Certainly this anniversary and its terrible memories will find a prominent place in my Sunday masses this week. I will preach on its significance, and the congregation will pray for peace and for comfort for the families of those who were lost on that day.

There will be no prayers, however, at the ceremonies at New York's Ground Zero this year. Mayor Michael Bloomberg has chosen to ban clergy participation at the memorial ceremonies (click on link to read article). In a way, I have to agree with the mayor's decision. This will be, after all, a public ceremony. As such, the constitutional separation of Church and State should be respected. The victims of this tragedy were of many faiths and some of no faith at all. As one who has performed hundreds of memorial services myself, I believe the emphasis at such observances needs to be on the wishes of the living; therefore, it is only right that the preferences of the victims' loved ones be honored. Similarly, if any faith is to be represented, it would only be proper that all faiths are represented.

Okay. I get that.

But there's a big part of me that wants to see an imam at Ground Zero.

Yes. I know. The presence of an Islamic cleric at the scene of an act of radical Islamic terrorism may seem to be an egregious offense. But what could be more offensive, more degrading to humanity, than the terror attacks themselves? I wonder if our fear of giving offense isn't hindering our ability to create reconciliation.

Let me explain. If you were to enter the Lutheran church building where I conduct services, you would see prominently displayed as the focal point of the room a cross. You can, of course, make a cross of gold or silver and wear it around your neck as a lovley ornament; however, Christians know that the cross was really an instrument of cold-blooded torture and death--a tool used by an oppressive people to punish, subjugate, and terrorize, the people they had conquored.

Yes, sick as this may sound, when we worship we look to the image of a man being tortured to death by terrorists. This man, in the midst of the worst pain, injustice, and abandonment imaginable, speaks words of comfort and forgiveness (See Luke 23: 32-43). When we see him in his great pain, we know he is also in our pain--our human pain. When we hear his great compassion and love, we have to believe that this can also be our compassion, our love.

In a way, I see 9/11 as America's Calvary. We survivors stood at the foot of the cross and watched helplessly as terrorists did their worst. We also witnessed sacrificial love as many first responders offered up their lives for strangers.

But it was not just America that was wounded on that day. Decent, observant, God-fearing Muslims around the world must have felt the wound--a terrible sting of shame for what some perverted minority did in the name of their faith. What pain must burn in their minds knowing that in the conventional thoughts of Westerners, Islam will forever be associated with unthinking, murderous evil.

Yes, Mister Mayor, you've made the right call. The expedient, politically safe call. But I am still looking to our American Calvary and waiting for the words, "Father, forgive them." I would long to hear a Muslim cleric, perhaps representing the many Muslims who also perished on that awful day, say prayers for peace, forgiveness, and reconciliation on the anniversary of Islam's darkest hour.

Pleae let me know what you think. Thank you, my friend, for stopping by.