September 12, 2011
The following posting is an abridged version of remarks to students at a prayer service on September 9, 2011:
Ten years ago, the Tuesday morning of September 11, 2001, presented one of those magnificent deep blue, cloudless-sky days that we get in Maryland in the fall. Students, some of you–maybe most of you–may remember the day. Freshmen, the youngest of you were three years old, maybe in Pre-K. Seniors, you were in the second grade. Several of your teachers of today were in high school, one or two even in middle school. And, many of us older folks were doing what we still do today, turning up to teach.
I want to share with you a very personal recollection that I believe fits well with our reasons for gathering for this solemn remembrance. I was 10 weeks in as Principal of The John Carroll School in Bel Air, MD. School itself had been underway for just a few days after summer vacation, and that morning the entire school community had gathered in the gymnasium for our opening liturgy.
This was the very first time in my career as a principal that I was to speak with the entire student body. I was sitting among students on the bottom row of the bleachers. At some time during Mass (I don't remember exactly when), one of our guidance counselors came alongside and whispered to me the news of a plane having crashed into the World Trade Center. Mass was still going on when the counselor returned with an even more dire update. By the time of the final blessing, he had whispered to me a third time. It was all too clear that something beyond our ability to imagine was taking place, evil was running rampant. And so, after Mass, my first remarks ever to the entire student body, were to announce the vicious attacks that had taken place in New York and at the Pentagon. I fretted about finding the right words to communicate this baffling, shocking news. I was the leader of the school. I was meant to have some answers. But never was I as conscious of the inadequacy of words to explain. How do you explain the unexplainable? Words came, but I have no memory of what I actually said.
What I do recall with pride and satisfaction was a clear sense of school as community. Here we were, drawn together in one place to celebrate the great sacrifice of Jesus who died, is risen, and will come again. That our schedule had gathered us to worship that day and that time seems, in retrospect, a great blessing.
Returning to classrooms, my faculty (as teachers did at this school and schools everywhere) were a calming and comforting presence to our students and to one another. I remember later that morning, Governor Glendening announced the closure of schools. We spent the rest of the day helping anxious students contact their anxious moms and dads, and made sure they got home safely.
John Carroll is near a very large military base, Aberdeen Proving Ground. We were conscious of the fact that many of our parents were stationed on base and it was not uncommon for them to be called to the Pentagon for meetings. Those students were beside themselves. In the 24 hours that followed, we learned that our APG parents were all safe.
But we also learned that Joe Maggitti, father of one of our students, had been on business in New York City at Marsh & McLennan, high up in the North Tower of the World Trade Center. It had been just a few days earlier that Joe and I had been shaking hands at orientation; Joe's daughter was a 9th grader. We had lost one of our own.
Face to face with pure evil, rather than being torn apart by an event that hit hard and close, our Catholic school community responded as our whole nation did, coming together to mourn the dead, to support those who experienced loss, and heal our own damaged selves. We offered our help to the Maggitti family and weeks later hosted the wake. The gym at John Carroll, almost identical to the space we are in right now, was packed for a reception in memory of Joe Maggitti–our community standing in solidarity for Lauren and her family.
We grieved together. And we have endured, we have recovered, we have even flourished. It was only this time last school year at John Carroll that I saw Lauren on campus, married to the Boys' JV soccer coach, and very pregnant. Far from permanently crushed from losing her dad, she was happy with the world and able to talk about the blessings of her life, especially her soon-to-arrive baby.
For me, the resilience of Lauren Maggitti is inspirational. For her, faith in the God who loves us, devotion to the freedoms our nation holds dear, and simple joy in friends and family, are a tremendous source of strength to move ahead and make a good life.
One final thing I remember from 10 years ago. Across our country, many people turned to their churches to deal with the trauma of the preceding days. On Sunday the 16th, five days after the disaster, my parish, St. Margaret in Bel Air, usually well-attended, was flat out bursting at the seams. It seems the beauty of the Mass was something a pained and bewildered people turned to for healing. Many of you attend church every Sunday. I know many of you do not; it's easy to stay in bed. I invite you to consider that maybe this Sunday, the actual anniversary of 9/11, is a good time to get your family together and go to church. Talk about it. Make the effort. Open your hearts to the word of God, to the preaching of your pastor, and to the great mystery of the Eucharist.
So, I thank you for your reverence at this somber memorial prayer service. God bless America. God bless you and your families. And God bless Our Lady of Good Counsel High School.