On Religion

Saints at Ground Zero

The first time Father John Romas approached ground zero it was hard to find the site of St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church.

Rescue workers in the World Trade Center ruins then watched in silence as the man in black robes fell to his knees and began weeping.

"My church was gone. There was no church at all – no doors, no walls, no windows," said the priest, trying to express himself in English. "I cried and cried. Then I looked up and saw what was left of the towers. Then I started crying again and I cried twice as long. ...

"We will rebuild. There is no question. We have suffered a great loss, but our church can be rebuilt. But how can we replace the people, the thousands of lives? How can we weep enough those who were lost?"

Across the street, workers are searching for the bodies of nearly 6,500 people who are missing after the terrorist attack. The members of St. Nicholas do not think that any parishioners died when the towers, a mere 250 feet away, fell onto their small sanctuary in an avalanche of concrete, glass, steel and fire.

Nevertheless, the Orthodox believers want to search in the two-story mound of debris for the remains of three loved ones who died long ago – the relics of St. Nicholas, St. Katherine and St. Sava. Small pieces of their skeletons were kept in a gold-plated box marked with an image of Christ. This ossuary was stored in a 700-pound, fireproof safe.

"We do not think it could have burned. But perhaps it was crushed," said Father Romas. "Who knows? All we can do is wait and pray."

Workers have only been able to recover a charred cross, a twisted brass candelabra and bits of marble that may have come from the altar. At mid-week, the search for the relics had been postponed again.

It's hard for outsiders to understand what this loss would mean to a parish, said Father Robert Stephanopoulos, dean of the city's Cathedral of the Holy Trinity. These ties with the saints are more than symbolic. This mystery is rooted in centuries of tradition.

"We believe the Communion of the Saints is real and that we worship and pray with all the saints in heaven," he said. "But these particular saints are also a part of that parish family, in a unique way. They have been a part of that parish for many years and, of course, the people want to see these relics recovered. Yes, this is a family matter."

The building that became St. Nicholas (www.stnicholasnyc.org) was built as a private residence and even spent a few years as a tavern. The four-story structure was not dramatic on the outside, except for the sight of its Byzantine cross standing in stark relief against the soaring glass-and-steel towers. But on the inside it was a haven in the urban chaos. Its candles and icons – gifts from Czar Nicholas II of Russia – inspired people of many church traditions to spend their lunch hours in prayer.

Father Romas said he does not know the names of the saints whose relics were sealed into the altar 80 years ago. Once those relics were in place, the altar would have been washed and vested in a rite that in some ways resembles a baptism. These traditions began in the early church, where persecuted Christians often worshipped in catacombs near the tombs of the martyrs.

This parish is named after St. Nicholas of Myra, the 4th century saint who in many Western lands evolved into St. Nick. The bishop is the patron saint of merchants, endangered children and seafarers, a connection with the history of lower Manhattan. The relics of St. Katherine and St. Sava came from monasteries connected with those saints.

"They are irreplaceable. They are special links to these saints that we love," said Lorraine Romas, the priest's wife. "But our church will live on, no matter what. We hope that someday our new sanctuary will be a place where people can come and pray and light candles for those who died. We must have a place like that."

What comes after the anger?

Terry Anderson thought he had conquered his anger at the terrorists who locked him away for 2,545 days.

The Associated Press veteran had traveled back to Lebanon to make a documentary. He met with officials of Hezbollah. It was hard, but he did it.

Then an image on his giant-screen television brought it all back. Anderson was watching a routine news interview with a politician in Beirut, when he recognized his voice. This was the man the hostages called "the boss," in their shadowy world of blindfolds and secret prisons.

"I knew that voice. ... We had to listen to him day after day. He was in charge," Anderson said, speaking this week at St. Andrews School in Boca Raton, Fla. "And there he was in my living room, larger than life on my television screen in Ohio. I'm watching him and listening to him and I'm thinking, 'You bastard! I am still angry, because you did that to me.'

"That surprised me. It surprised me that it was still buried in there someplace."

On Sept. 11, he was stunned and horrified all over again.

Anderson has paid his dues. He knows all about terrorism, nationalism, religious fanaticism and the other "isms" that haunt the Middle East. He knows more than anyone could want to know about the agonizing path that broken people will have to walk after the events in New York City, Washington, D.C, and rural Pennsylvania.

But Anderson isn't sure that he can grasp the pain felt by those who lost loved ones on 9/11, even after his years as a hostage and as a war correspondent. Anderson said he isn't even sure what to call what happened on that day. "Terrorism" is being radically redefined.

"These terrorists ^?are not asking for anything. There are no demands. They simply want to destroy," he said. "There is no question of negotiation. ... They are anarchists. It used to be that terror had political aims. They can't really have any expectations that they can damage us in any lasting way. This is terror for the sake of terrorizing people."

Anderson's testimony on faith and forgiveness was scheduled before the bombings. Above all, he said he considers himself blessed. He is thankful for his life, marriage, family and work as a writer and teacher. He said he is thankful for the faith that helped him stay sane in his chains, locked away with a circle of brothers that included a Catholic priest and a biblical scholar.

But this is a hard time to preach about the power of forgiveness.

"I don't think the people who lost loved ones at the World Trade Center even want to HEAR the word 'forgiveness,' right now. ... They are still grieving, as we all are, as a nation," he said. "When I speak about forgiveness, I am speaking totally about my personal experience, my own feelings and my own search. I cannot speak for anyone else."

During the decade since his release, the tenets of his faith have brought him pain as well as comfort. It's hard to get past the words that are "right there on the very first page of our contract" with God, he said. "That's the place where it says, 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.' "

Anderson said his wife once described the lessons they have learned this way: "If you want the joy, you can't have the anger."

What does this mean for the nation? Anderson said he is convinced America can seek security, without surrendering its values of freedom. The free world can demand justice for Osama bin Laden, without making decisions rooted in a thirst for revenge.

"The people that kidnapped me, just like the people who committed this terrible atrocity, are not sorry today. They are not asking for forgiveness," he said. "No, forgiveness is about what is in me. Hatred and anger are terribly debilitating. They are soul destroying even, I think, when they are righteous.

"We have every reason to be terribly anger at those people. They need to be punished. But anger will lead us, I think, into places where we do not want to go."

Father, forgive them

Just after dawn, Father Seamus Murtagh got up to write his Sunday meditation.

The appointed text was the parable of the prodigal son in the Gospel of St. Luke, with its twin themes of repentance and forgiveness. He decided his flock at St. Ann's Catholic Church in West Palm Beach, Fla., would hear about forgiveness. He wrote a simple title on his work – "Father, Forgive Them."

It was Tuesday morning. Soon the events crashed into his prayers.

"As I pondered the news, one of my reactions was – I must change that message," said Murtagh, his gentle Irish voice tight with emotion as hepreached at an interfaith service Tuesday night. "So I sat down to re-write the message. Then I asked myself, 'What am I doing? Is it OK for me to speak about forgiveness in the abstract, if we are afraid to do it in the concrete?

"I decided that the message stays the same ... We need to really believe what we believe about our God and that it is in forgiveness that we are healed and made whole. We are transformed ourselves in the act of forgiving, more, perhaps, than the people who are forgiven."

There were thousands of services held in the hours after the terrorist attacks, with stunned people reciting ancient words about ancient mysteries. This was merely one of those services. There were businessmen from the nearby Trump Towers. There were young people who seemed to have come from the beach. The kneelers at the historic Holy Trinity Episcopal Church were lined with mothers, fathers and children who had watched hell unfold on television.

When all is said and done, said Murtagh, Americans must be driven "kicking and screaming into the word of forgiveness" while shunning the "deep satisfaction of revenge, of closure through getting even." Those touched by the tragedy mustremember that God is "a God of forgiveness, a God of peace and a God of justice."

There were stories to tell at each and every prayer service, as global terrorism lurched into the age of the cell telephone and the World Wide Web. From coast to coast, everyone seemed to know someone who knew someone who had received a call that answered an anguished prayer or carved a wound into the soul.

At this service, Rabbi Howard Shapiro of Temple Israel turned to Hebrew for a prayer of thanksgiving that his son's daily subway trip through the World Trade Center had ended in safety. Then the verses he read from Isaiah included these sobering words: "All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower ofthe field. The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever."

The reading from St. Matthew was almost hard to bear: "Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all of these things will be given to you as well. Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Afterwards, I called Father Thaddeus Barnum, who wrote a book entitled "Where is God in Suffering and Tragedy?" about his experiences as a counselor inside the crash site of USAir flight 427 outside of Pittsburgh. Those memories washed over him again Tuesday, a flashback to days that changed his life forever.

"There is so, so much that we have all taken for granted. It's the little things, the little gifts, the little details of daily life with our lovedones," he said, piecing together his thoughts for his next trip into a pulpit. "Scripture tells us to love God with all of our hearts and all of our minds and to love each other."

"That is what this is all about. This reminds us that we are too busy to love God and we are even too busy to love each other. We take all of that for granted. We belong to God and we belong to each other. This makes us see that, whether we want to or not."

My Generation: Hooking Up, Part II

Things can get pretty tense when parents and teen-agers talk about premarital sex.

No matter how bad it gets, some questions must be asked. But these days it isn't enough for adults to grill children. Something a bit more risky and unnerving needs to happen first, according to philosopher J. Budziszewski. Children may need to ask their parents some questions.

Here's one: "Mom, did you shack up with dad or anybody else before you got married?" Or how about this one: "Dad, how many girls did you 'hook up' with before you met mom?"

Parents who joined the sexual revolution often have some explaining to do. Absolute candor may not be the answer, but neither is silence. This is especially true for parents, educators and clergy who say that they want to defend centuries of Judeo-Christian teachings that sex outside of marriage is sin and a threat to spiritual and emotional wholeness. These adults may, literally, need to confess their sins and seek forgiveness.

"It's always tough to repent. I think a lot of adults are silent because they know they made their own mistakes in the past," said Budziszewski, who teaches at the University of Texas. He also writes about moral dilemmas in modern college life for www.Boundless.org under the byline of Prof. M.E. Theophilus."

"So parents are out there saying, 'How can I tell my child to abstain from sex before marriage when I know that I didn't? How do I answer their questions?' "

Some adults lie. Others choose silence. Budziszewski believes it would be more compassionate for them to say: "Look, I made mistakes and I have suffered the consequences. I know what I am talking about. Please, don't follow me there."

When adults are silent, children draw their own conclusions. It's hard for young people to figure out the rules when their parents and mentors have lots of motivation not to get too specific in discussions of sexual ethics. It's easy for the big picture to get blurred.

For example, a recent survey of college women commission by the Independent Women's Forum found that 83 percent said, "Being married is very important to me" and 63 percent expected to meet their mate during their years on campus. Yet 90 percent of those interviewed said that a sexual trend called "hooking up" was common at their schools and 40 percent said they had experienced it. Most defined "hooking up" as when a "girl and guy get together for a sexual encounter and don't necessarily expect anything further."

The ends and the means simply don't add up, said Budziszewski. Millions of young people say they want to find partners for traditional, faithful, committed marriages. Yet they appear to be making sexual choices shaped by hormones and confused emotions. This didn't work for the Baby Boomers and now it isn't working for their children.

The study, "Hooking Up, Hanging Out and Hoping for Mr. Right, found that many young women feel abused and pressured, living on campuses where there may be twice as many females as males or odds that are even worse. They have been told to seek romance, but not to pressure guys for commitments, to take responsibility for their own decisions, but not to judge the predatory acts of others.

Meanwhile, the statistics roll in about date rape, eating disorders, depression and divorce.

"Their culture has told them – in so many ways – that they need to compete for guys," said Budziszewski. "That's a losing strategy. ... You don't build trust with a guy by sleeping with him. You don't build a relationship that will last for a lifetime, by sleeping with a guy. You don't escape the sins of your parents, by sleeping with a guy."

Many parents, clergy and religious educators simply do not want to talk about it. But if they will not address these issues, who will?

"People in my generation," he said, "are going to have to make a decision about what they did in the past, if they want to talk honestly to their children in the present. At some point, they need to ask this question: 'Do I love my children enough to tell them the truth?' "