It was the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I went to Penn Station in Newark early in the morning, located just a few blocks from the office where I served as bishop. I carried a sign, “Blessings Offered on the Anniversary of 9/11”. I stood next to a wall in the concourse as commuters rushed out to catch a bus or hurried in to board a train. Most people were glued to their cellphones as they moved through the crowded corridor. A few stopped by for a blessing, which I offered in words of prayer. Some others noticed me, and from their facial expressions I could sense that they were confused by my presence, and wondered why I was there. At moments I wondered the same thing. I didn’t feel silly, but I did feel out of place.
What wasn’t out of place were the number of well-armed police officers in the terminal, accompanied by large dogs. Given that Newark was a 15-minute train ride into Manhattan, security on 9/11 was high. Their presence made me even more nervous, which didn’t seem to be shared by the rapidly moving hordes of people, who were singularly focused on where they needed to get to next.
In the midst of that maelstrom of activity, a revelation came to me, ironically from the Book of Revelations: “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth…And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God… And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples; he will wipe every tear from their eyes, death will be no more’” (Revelation 21: 1-4). My rational self immediately tried to put up a firewall against this surprising revelation: a new Jerusalem? In Newark? On 9/11? Are you kidding? But as I stood there, occasionally offering prayers, but more observing people going about their daily lives in the midst of security challenges, I came to the realization, the revelation, that everyone in that concourse – police, dogs, commuters, shopkeepers – everyone was blessed – whether I was there or not.
I need to remind myself of that revelation of blessing, especially on this day before Election Day when nearly the entire country is afraid of feeling cursed if they don’t get the President they want. We may wish for similar revelations or epiphanies – from scripture, from poetry, from a glorious landscape or a heartwarming encounter with a loved one – but they may not come. Fear and anxiety may get in the way, or our rational selves will dismiss such ephemeral moments as flights of fantasy.
I am not counting on receiving a similar revelation to the one I had on the tenth anniversary of 9/11, but I am hoping that my head and heart will be open to receive some sort of insight of hope, or an indication of blessing. That may not happen. I may be caught up in news reports or prognostications or as distracted to get on to the next place as those Newark commuters were thirteen years ago. My wish — both for the election and an insight or revelation of blessing on its outcome, may not be fulfilled. That said, I will attempt to turn myself around and live into the conviction, rooted in my Christian faith, that new life can and will come out of darkness and despair. Resurrection is the promise. We all – believers, non-believers, Christians, Jews, Muslims, and the whole array of religious expressions, need to work to ensure that new life is possible, for as many people as possible.
I will be disappointed if Kamala Harris loses the election. I may also feel depressed, and may even find myself constricted by despair. I am not alone. The disappointment and despair need to be felt and honored. And given a timeline. A few days. Maybe a week or two. Getting stuck in the morass of disappointment and despair does two crippling things: it leaves us paralyzed, and it gives more oxygen to and fuels the vengeance of Donald Trump. Donald Trump feeds off the energy of others, both the adulation he receives and the resentment he gets.
Should Donald Trump win, those of us who will be wrapped in cloaks of disappointment and despair will need to commit to the promise of new life, which means accepting Trump as President, yes, and at the same time relentlessly fighting to ensure that everyone has their rights honored, that justice is evenly applied, and that power – be it financial, military, or political, is wielded for the benefit of all. And to support the message, to be promoted in all sorts of creative ways, that all os us are blessed. We will need to go to work. I am reminded of a timeless challenge attributed to St. Augustine (354-430 AD) from over 1000 years ago: “Pray as though everything depends on God; work as though everything depends on you.”
Whatever the outcome, we will need to board that train of hope.
