This week marks seven years. Seven years since the towers fell. Seven years since terrorists hijacked four planes, aiming to kill tens of thousands of innocent people. Seven years since they succeeded in killing almost 3,000. Seven years.
In God’s providence, the Bible reading plan I developed eight years ago schedules for the 11th reading in September Jeremiah 39 and 52 – the accounts of the terrible destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 586 BC. In the following days I read the Psalms that look back on that event – Psalms 74, 79, and 94 – as well as the book of Lamentations. On September 11, 2001, I read of Jerusalem’s fall without much feeling in the morning; that evening, knowing of the attack and the destruction of the towers, I reread the account, and continued to read these psalms and Lamentations – and wept.
Today, much of our visceral reaction to that attack has faded from memory. Newspapers this year used more ink talking about lipstick on pit bulls and pigs than they devoted to remembering 9/11.
But we must remember. We must remember.
What must we remember?
