By Reverend Paul A. Holmes,
given at Immaculate Conception Chapel,
Seton Hall University
Six months before the tragic events of September 11th, a strange movie called Memento premiered. It was a brilliant masterpiece about a man named Leonard Shelby who is searching for his wife’s killer.
Leonard has a terrible problem. The night of his wife’s death, he was struck in the head, and this caused an unusual form of short-term amnesia. Leonard can remember everything in his life up to the moment of the attack. But, from that moment on, he forgets everything almost immediately after it happens. He has to resort to post-it notes, photographs and, even, tattoos to remind himself of who people are, where he lives, and what significance different people are playing in his life. If Leonard is having a conversation that lasts more than 10 minutes, he forgets who is sitting in front of him, and why they’re talking to begin with – or even, what they’re talking about.
In order for the audience to experience how confusing this must be for Leonard, the director filmed the movie in reverse order. (Not in flashbacks, the way we’re used to looking backwards.) The movie starts at the end, and works backward, scene by scene. I went back to see the movie two more times – you almost have to – so that I could figure out what really happened to Leonard at the end – or should I say, at the beginning.
The entire film is a testament to the role of memory in our lives. Like Leonard, if we were to be unable to remember, our lives would not only be chaotic, they would seem meaningless and, ultimately, even, hopeless.
We gather today, two years after September 11th, to remember. We do so, of course, because we can’t forget. But much more than that: we gather today to remember together. And that’s a crucial truth about us today. We’re remembering together.
In Memento, Leonard Shelby is terribly alone. Unable to form real relationships, even when he learns something meaningful, he can’t trust who’s talking, – he can’t even trust himself – and he is, therefore, one of the loneliest characters we’ve ever met.
No, we do our remembering together. And by the very act of remembering, we deepen our connectedness to each other. We lean on each other’s shoulders, and we trust that we can depend on each other.
But we are also immensely affected by where we are gathered. Here in this holy place, we are gathered together, yes. But here, in this chapel, we are reminded of a special Presence, a holy Presence – Someone who was with us on the morning of September 11th two years ago – Someone who has been with us every morning since.
Present with us, because that is his very Name.
The Lord is present with us, and to us, especially in his Son Jesus. “Love your enemies,” he tells us. “Bless those who curse you.”
Difficult words. If we were like Leonard Shelby, we would forget them ten minutes from now. In fact, that’s how the world seems to work. I can be told, “Love your enemies, and pray for those who mistreat you,” – and if I don’t write them down on a post-it note, or tattoo the words on my chest, they seem to just slip from my memory.
Especially today. We remember all the sorrow. All the heartache. And for so many, especially those who lost someone they loved two years ago – today is no different from any of the 730 days since that terrible morning. Every day has been a day to remember. Every morning has been a terrible morning. And every night, a terrible night. Because, in remembering, the sorrow and the heartache are all fresh, all new.
How can we love our enemies? How can we bless and pray for those responsible for such terrible memories?
Only here, perhaps. Only here, gathered together around the Table of Remembrance. Only here, gathered together around the Table of Forgiveness.
For our Lord Jesus did not command us to love our enemies, and then walk away.
He first showed us, in the most memorable of ways, how to love our enemies. He showed us the way by becoming the way for us, by becoming not only the Way, but the Truth, and the Life, as well.
And he did not die on the cross, and rise from the dead, just so that he could then walk away. No, he remains with us. We are in his presence. And we have his power and grace at our disposal. I can love my enemies – not with my own strength, not if left to my own devices. I can love them, and bless them, and pray for them – all because he gives me the strength to do so.
We will bless a cross today because it will help us to remember.
Torn from the rubble of the South Tower of the World Trade Center, what was once twisted steel has been fashioned into a symbol of the only real strength and power and victory the world has ever known. When the world forgets the power of the Cross, when each of us forgets the victory of the Cross, we are lost.
The power to remember, and to do that remembering together, and in God’s awesome and tender presence – that power to remember God’s love and mercy makes us who we are. It transforms us into persons who can do what the rest of the world thinks is impossible.
The power to remember is the power to forgive.
The power to remember is the power to pray and to bless.
Let us continue the praying we have done for 730 days.
Let us continue to remember. Especially for the members of our own Seton Hall University family who lost their lives on this day two years ago:
John Bocchi
Dean Eberling
Craig Lilore
William Martin, Jr.
Daniel McGinley
John Pocher
Kenneth Tarantino
Anthony Infante, Jr.
Fred Morrone
James Nelson
Alfonse Joseph Niedermeyer III
James Romito
Mark Whitford
Let us also do the most powerful remembering there is. Remembering the Holy Presence in whom we are gathered. Remembering the power of Christ’s death and resurrection. Remembering – not because we have a post-it note or a photograph – but because that death and resurrection of Jesus has become our own death, and our own resurrection.
Such remembering cannot, and should not, blot out the terrible memories of September 11th. But our remembering today, and in this holy place, can unite those terrible memories to our hopes for a brighter future.
Let us imagine some point in the not-too-distant future when some director might film our lives in reverse order. And scene by scene, we can trace our lives back to this moment, right now. When all of us, gathered together in remembrance, began praying and blessing. And best of all, forgiving – with the power of the Cross.