When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain: and after he sat down, his disciples came to him.  Then he began to speak, and taught them saying: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.  Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.  Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.  Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.  Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.  Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.  Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.  Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.  You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.'  But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.  For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have?  Do not even the tax collectors do the same?

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I have lots of feelings about this anniversary, as I’m sure all of you do. This morning, the TV was full of nothing but recollections of that horrible day one year ago. For me, and I’m sure for you, it brought back such hard memories, memories of such pain, and of such a feeling of helplessness, of impotence.

I drove to East Point to participate in the city’s commemoration. On the way, I listened to National Public Radio. They were covering the ceremony in New York. The names of the dead were being read. Of course, it was way too much for any one person, so one person would read for a while and then be spelled by another. They were reading the names of the dead in teams. It was very moving.

When I got to East Point at 9:35, the team of readers was on the "I’s." "Stephanie V. Irby. Douglas Irgang." I went to the commemoration. There were prayers and speeches by politicians. At 10:05, the time that the first tower fell, the fire trucks that surrounded the park we were in all turned on their sirens at the same time. The ear-splitting sound came from every direction, and for the minute that the sirens were on, I couldn’t help but think of how many sirens we heard on TV and on our streets one year ago today. And so my first emotion was fear.

But as the wailing sound echoed off the nearby buildings and bounced around in such chaotic fashion, I couldn’t help but say a prayer apologizing to God, apologizing that the human race is so full of chaos, causing such pain to God. It didn’t even occur to me, standing out in that hot field, to distinguish between members of the human race — Christian, Jew, Muslim, American, Non-American, guilty, or innocent — I just prayed on behalf of all of us, a self-appointed spokesperson for us as a species, and apologized that we create such painful noise in the world.

Then a Lt. Colonel spoke and said that over the course of the past year, he had nurtured his pain and intentionally flamed it into anger. He wanted to be angry and to stay angry, he said. He didn’t want to lose his anger. I understood how he felt.

After I had done my duty as an officer of the Ministerial Association and lead the gathered assembly in some prayers, I went back to my car. I turned on the radio. It had been exactly one hour since I had arrived. The team of readers was on the "R’s." "Frank B. Reisman. Joshua Scott Reiss. Karen Renda."

When I got to church, Beverly showed me the front page of the paper, the page you probably saw when you came it. Two full pages covered in names in tiny print. Three thousand and ten names. Three thousand and ten stories. Three thousand and ten splashes in a pond of heartache that will ripple out to wives, husbands, children, parents, partners, loved ones.

It is enormous. And overwhelming. And I understand the Lt. Colonel’s desire not to forget the pain. I understand his desire to nurture his anger. What has happened to us is enormous. And overwhelming.

So, why do we gather tonight? Do we gather only to say that we cannot get our minds around this evil? We cannot. Do we gather only to say that we love our country? We do. Those things are true, but we don’t need the church, we don’t need to be Christians, for that.

In the face of enormous evil, and bitter pain that will echo for many decades to come, why do we gather as a Christian community? After all, there have been civic observances all over the country all day long. Most of those observances admirably handle the enormity of our pain and our need to affirm our patriotism. Why a Christian gathering?

Because, in the face of this atrocity, and our feelings of impotence, we have the only real way to fight back. No, it is not military might. I know that our men and women in the Armed Services are dedicated to their mission, are willing to risk their lives and have in some cases given their lives, and I respect them for their dedication and sense of duty. We have the most well equipped, well trained, and powerful military ever seen on earth, and I have no doubt that we will win military victories. Perhaps we will even kill all of the terrorists, although I doubt it.

But there will be a new generation of terrorists. The terrorists of the future are children now, and they will be raised on a steady diet of hatred for America and stories of the violence and death we brought to their land. Of course, the justification for that violence will be left out of the soup, and they will grow up convinced that they will be giving their lives to God if they take American lives. I am convinced that we will secure military victories, but, as history has shown time and time again, we will always need to secure military victories. The cycle will be endless.

In the face of this atrocity, this outrage, and our feelings of impotence, Jesus gives us the only real way to fight back. When we first hear it, we might think, "Come on Jesus, be a man! Don’t be so wimpy." But the more we know about it, the more we realize how much courage it takes, how hard it is, how much heroism is required. In what is perhaps his most difficult and important moral teaching, Jesus says, "Love your enemies. Bless those who persecute you." Break the cycle.

I don’t have to tell you how hard that is in this circumstance. But it is the Christian way to resist. It is the only enduring way to resist. It has power that even our military cannot match. And that power comes from these words: "We will not allow you to make us like you. Your hatred will not convert us to be hateful. As much as you hate it, as difficult as it is for us, we will love you."

"Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good." Now is the time for Christian heroes.

The Rev. James H. Pritchett, Jr. St. John’s Episcopal Church, College Park, GA

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