911 rocked the world.  No question.

And from 911, we also experienced miracles.  In one of those strange ironies, the kindness people showed one another afterward, was demonstrable and palpable—-for a while.  Do you remember? 

Several years after 911, I was a student at  The New Seminary (the oldest interfaith seminary in North America, based in New York City).  Even though I was raised in Chrisitanity, an integral part of my spiritual calling was to understand more about other religions and the cultures created from them.   It was run by Rabbi Roger Ross, with his wife, Deborah Steen-Ross,  an Anglican priest.  Rabbi Roger, as we called him,  had his own life-altering experience while being a part of the New York City Crisis Counseling Team, in the aftermath. What he shared with us, I share with you, now.

Rabbi Roger worked at Ground Zero, in 14 hour shifts for many, many days. One afternoon, as he was moving through the mayhem,  he noticed a lone firefighter, sitting on top of a pile of twisted rubble, crying.  As he made his way over to the distraught man, he realized that, suddenly, he too, felt overwhelmed.  He knew, if the torrent of tears bubbling in his throat were allowed to the surface, he might never stop. 

Yet, he also felt the inner commandment to be “strong” for this heroic soldier of the city—–”Do your job.”  and “Get a grip on yourself” screeched inside him like one more wailing siren.  Rabbi Roger, apprehensively approached this firefighter who looked to be no more than 18.  Still, not having it together, Rabbi Roger knew if  he opened his mouth, he would come competely unhinged.   So, without a word, he simply sat down.  Except for the periodic gulping breaths of the young man, not a word was uttered by either of them. More time passed.  No words came–even after regaining his composure enough to have said something but his brain and mouth remained in gridlock. 

Rabbi Roger was not sure how long they sat there, saying absolutely nothing to one another.   He only knew how horrified, how completely idiotic and stunned he felt,  at his complete lack of ability to “be there” for this grieving young man.  Then, it hit him.

HE was in his own way—– focused, entirely upon HIMSELF and his seeming ineptitude. The words he wanted access to, were caught under the rubble of his own sanctimonious, highly critical, ego—-in his anger toward himself.   Bingo.

That realization turned the fury at himself into forgiveness. The OH-NO of this experience turned into an life transforming AH-HA.   Worrying about the “right words”, or any words at all…..ceased.    He shifted his focus—from what was lacking in him to the desire for care, comfort, and peace that this young man needed so desparately.   He asked God for restoration of this young man’s spirit, that his fractured soul would be freed of lingering fear and bitterness, enabling him to have a new view of life that would be whole and positive, one day. Then, he reached for the man’s hand. More quiet time passed. When the young man, seemed ready to release his grip, Rabbi Roger knew it was time to move on, assuming he would never see the young man again. 

A few weeks later, when he was attending, yet another, firefighter’s funeral, Rabbi Roger felt a tap on the shoulder.  As he turned, he recognized the now clean face of that young man–who, for a flash—reminded him of what he thought were his failings that day.  He had an apology on the tip of his tongue when the young man said, “I still don’t know who you are.  But what you said to me that day, sitting on that giant pile of Hell—–saved my life.  I could not stand to think about the father and brother and friends I had lost.  I wanted to die too. You sat down. You took my hand.  No fanfare.  You were just there.  You told me ” ‘Keep the Faith’.  Now was my chance to be a man, for myself, my family, and my community.  Because of you, I got up. The anger and fear went away. I felt brave and determined.  This WAS my chance–to step up to the challenges, to become an example of courage and loyalty and good will, in the face of all this destruction. I will never forget your words.  They were just what I needed to hear. Thank you”.

Sometimes, when we think we are failing, we are doing anything but.  Sometimes a gentle hand, extended without an agenda or fear of doing “the wrong thing”—–a compassionate gesture, guided purely by faith, really means everything.