That All May Be One / Fr. Rick Ginther

On a tragic day, people of all faiths mourned and prayed together

September 11, 2001. The director of liturgy was preparing to emcee a funeral for the father of a priest.

Buttoning his shirt, he heard a commotion from the rectory’s common room. Walking in, he saw on a TV smoke pouring from one tower, as a plane speared the second tower.

He was 8 years old, living in Israel. He arrived home from school, turned on the TV and witnessed the second plane’s impact.

He was a firefighter coming on shift. A fellow firefighter burst into the locker room and said, “A plane just flew into the World Trade Center.” Laughter erupted! Seriously? Yes, his face said, seriously. Everyone rushed to the television—and became gravely saddened as the second plane crashed into the second tower.

A Catholic, a Jew, a Muslim, witnessing a traumatic moment 25 years ago. Each bound to his religious identity, with thoughts and questions.

One preparing to be with mourners.

One alone, with firsthand experience of the violence of the Second Intifada in Israel and the West Bank.

One whose life was bound to respond in life-and-death situations, witnessing the unfolding of a massive loss of life.

Civilians. First responders. Passengers. Terrorists. Two towers, the Pentagon, a field in Pennsylvania.

The priest did not make it to the funeral. He was asked to help plan an interreligious prayer service for that evening at Christ Church Cathedral in Indianapolis. Planning the service were two Jewish rabbis, one Muslim imam and other Christians.

The boy’s older brother came home. He saw what was unfolding. He had often asked, “Will the Americans ever understand the threat and fear of terrorist violence?” “Now they do,” he muttered sadly.

The firefighter immersed himself in his duties. And he prayed. For the dead, especially for the many first responders. He prayed for his fellow Muslims, who were now a target for indiscriminate violence and threats.

The interfaith prayer service was attended by more than 200 people. Those leading the prayer included the rabbis, the imam, an Orthodox priest, an archbishop and the rector of Christ Church.

All present prayed for peace. They mourned together. They were as one.

The boy prayed on his own. Then with family. Then at synagogue on Sabbath.

The firefighter, also an imam, led his mosque in Friday prayer. Many threats had been and were being made toward his mosque and congregation. They prayed for the innocent dead, for peace, for freedom from the fear of undeserved reprisals.

Throughout Indianapolis, Christian, Jewish and Muslim congregations prayed. They were spiritually joined by Sikh, Hindu, Jain, B’hai and other people of faith. All prayed for our nation. And for our world.

They remembered the 2,977 victims who came from more than 90 nations.

The dead were a diverse cross-section of world religions: Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, other faiths and those of no religious affiliation.

They remembered the 415 members of the Fire Department of New York, Port Authority and 71 law enforcement officers who died in the World Trade Center and on the ground in New York City. And the 55 military personnel at the Pentagon.

They remembered those victims whom they knew personally or had a friend or acquaintance who lost someone.

Today, the world’s religions continue to pray for peace, encouraged repeatedly by Pope Leo XIV.

The world’s religions continue to find connections with other people of faith. They honor our common humanity. They honor our connection to the divine.

The world, and our country, still need our prayers—for peace, for respect, for solidarity, for the common good.

And so: Let us pray.
 

(Father Rick Ginther is director of the archdiocesan Office of Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs. He is retired from full-time pastoral ministry, yet active as a priest of the archdiocese.) †