Tuesday, September 15, 2026

Reflection 3: The Better Angels of 9-11



The attacks on America that occurred on September 11, 2001 revealed one of the most intensely depraved images of human nature possible. The loss of human life was enormous. The destruction to the heart of a vibrant city was unimaginable. But the damage this did to our humanity was the deepest wound.

In the light of atrocities like this, there is a very human tendency to lapse into black and white reductionism, to channel collective human Shadow content into caricatures that become sweeping assessments of whole groups of people, most of whom had nothing to do with the events at hand.

We saw that through the lenses of a nebulous Islamophobia that almost immediately became the way many people across America processed the events of 9-11. That fear and loathing would have a very human toll. In Arizona, a Sikh man who was planting flowers to honor the victims of 9-11 was shot dead, his assailant traveling to a nearby gas station and wounding a Lebanese American while proclaiming “I’m a patriot. I’m an American to the core.” Across the country 11 Americans would be slain, several of whom were not Muslim, even as President George W. Bush called for restraint and the  distinguishing of the Islamic faith from the individual acts of terrorists claiming its banner.

But that would not stop that president from launching America into two wars. In Afghanistan American soldiers would torture suspected terrorists in the same Bagram prison the Soviets and the Taliban had used for that purpose and later in Iraq where American torture occurred in Abu Ghraib, Saddam Hussein’s prison.  

The two wars were ill-conceived, costly and ultimately proved to be losing efforts. And the torture which was utilized stained the soul of an America which had been among the principal architects of the Geneva Conventions that its own agents were violating. American torture soon became a powerful recruitment force for Al Qaeda and ISIS.

This was decidedly not America’s best moment. But it was also not the whole story.

The first responders who arrived at the Twin Towers on 9-11 before their collapse launched into rescuing badly burned victims and leading the occupants of the offices down the towers to safety. Some would give their lives in that selfless public service, among them Franciscan priest Mychal Judge, an out gay man who was the chaplain for the New York Fire Department. In his life and death, the Franciscan priest embodied something larger than any of the categories by which we divide ourselves.

One of those selfless responders was my friend, Stephen Roberts, whom I had known since our time together at the University of Florida. I would ultimately leave the practice of law I was studying to become an Episcopal priest. Stephen would leave the business world for which his MBA was preparing him to become a Reform rabbi. He and his husband lived a few blocks away from Ground Zero in New York. And Stephen would spend the next months of his life offering chaplaincy services to those sifting through the debris in search of anything allowing searchers to identify human remains.

I am very proud to call Stephen my friend.

While 9-11 brought out the absolute worst in human nature, it also brought out the very best. Abraham Lincoln spoke of this potential in his fellow Americans as “our better angels.” And on 9-11, when the demons had finished their deadly work, our better angels began to show up.

But that response came at a cost. The health concerns of those who carried out that grim work at Ground Zero have recently become publicized. Many of them are facing cancers and other serious diseases. We owe these people the very best medical care and support we can give them. That includes ongoing psychological support for those who still experience PTSD all these years later.

Today, let us remember those lost in that horrible day in New York, D.C. and Pennsylvania. Let us remember the many lost on both sides in the subsequent destructive wars on the far side of the world, wars which continue today in the Middle East. Let us remember the wounds to our nation’s very soul that ensued from all of these events. But most importantly, may we always remember our better angels who, in Lincoln’s words, stepped up to help bind up our nation’s wounds.

This day, may we recognize that vengeful destructiveness and mindless hatred of others are not the only responses available to human beings and human societies that have been wounded. Our better angels are always present, if we only allow them to step up. For as Lincoln so ably observed, we can always do better.

 

IMAGE: Recovery of the body of Fr. Mychal Judge, OFM 

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frharry@cfl.rr.com

hcoverston.orlando@gmail.com

If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding. Most things worth considering do not come in sound bites.

Those who believe religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi

For what does G-d require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d?  - Micah 6:8, Hebrew Scriptures

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. - Rabbi Rami Shapiro, Wisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)

 

© Harry Scott Coverston, 2026

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Reflection 2: The Tears of 9-11


The afternoon of September 11, 2001, Valencia Community College chose not to dismiss its classes. After my time at home watching the initial round of news coming out of New York, D.C. and Pennsylvania, I had to go down to Kissimmee to meet my afternoon 20th CE Humanities class.

When I arrived at the campus, law enforcement had blocked off the circle in front of the main entrance, a reminder of the grim events happening in our world. I hadn’t expected anyone to show. But three stalwart students appeared at my door.

My classroom had an enormous television screen mounted on a wooden frame. It was a holdover from earlier days before monitors and white boards became the norm. The students asked if we could simply watch the news and I readily agreed. A beloved colleague, my office mate from down the hall, poked her head in and asked if she could sit with us. I was only too happy to have her company.

And so we sat and watched. The events got darker and darker until they reached a devastating crescendo. People began jumping out of the windows of the towers. We could see them holding hands, floating down like birds, tumbling head over heels and creating a pink mist above the pavement below when their bodies were broken into pieces upon impact.

It was ungodly.

That was when my weeping began. My heart was absolutely broken. But I was not alone. The three students, all young males, began to weep with me. My colleague, who loved New York and visited whenever she could, began to sob.

I made no attempt to direct any of our interactions that day. It was clear that I was not in control of the events that we were encountering. None of us were. Indeed, that presumption of living in a space where sanity and rationality dictated our collective lives had been shattered.

I remember thinking to myself, “Who intentionally flies a perfectly fine airplane into a building?” But the deeper question lumbering beneath the first was much darker: “Who can we trust? If people are willing to do something like this, what else might they do?”

Our discussion that day was erratic, erupting in short segments of words driven by terror. But what I remember about that discussion was reminding my students and my colleague that we were OK, that we had each other, and how grateful I was to have spent that awful afternoon with them.

One by one, they left the classroom in silence leaving me to shut down the television and the lighting. It had been a long afternoon. But I had not had to face it alone. And I will never forget my first tears over 9-11 that were shed that afternoon along with those of my colleague and my three students.

If there was a lesson we all learned that day, it was that none of us are rugged individuals. There are no self-made men or women. We all became who we are thanks to the many hands who have touched our lives over the years. This day was a case in point that we need one another to be healthy human beings. For that lesson and those who shared it with me, I will always be grateful.  

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frharry@cfl.rr.com

hcoverston.orlando@gmail.com

If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding. Most things worth considering do not come in sound bites.

Those who believe religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi

For what does G-d require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d?  - Micah 6:8, Hebrew Scriptures

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. - Rabbi Rami Shapiro, Wisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)

 

© Harry Scott Coverston, 2026

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Reflection 1: The Birds of 9-11


The morning of September 11, 2001, I was at a conference on Latin American interests in higher education at the east campus of what was then Valencia Community College. Our panel discussion was interrupted by an announcement that something was happening in New York City that required cancelling the day’s events.

As I left the auditorium, I got the first images of the initial airline strike on the Twin Towers. I felt the bottom of my stomach drop out as I headed home.

Once there, my husband and I watched the news coming out of New York and Washington. After a few minutes of nausea as we watched the increasingly horrific events spilling out of our nation’s beloved cities, I could take no more. And so we headed to the nearby park on the rim of Lake Underhill to be outside, away from the madness emanating from our television.

It was a beautiful day here in the heart of Orlando. Sunny. Not too hot, a little drier than normal. But what was striking was how quiet it was.

Our home is in the overhead flight pattern for both the nearby Orlando Executive Airport and the international airport south of town. There were no sounds of passing jetliners bringing tourists to theme parks. The skies had been cleared. And with the cordoning off of many government agencies and businesses by police, the nearby roads were also clear.

And quiet.

That was when I noticed the birds. Tall around us, they were chirping, warbling, singing. It seemed their songs were a lot louder than normal. But they were simply doing what they always did. It was the human generated noise that had been turned down low. And in that unexpected resulting quiet, the beautiful concert of bird song was not only audible, it was commanding.

I felt my heart moved. I felt the angels were hovering above us in this time of great loss, in our grief, anger and fears, reminding us that our Creator was present with us. Of course, that is always true. But if we had ever needed that reminder, it was on September 11, 2001.

The day would drag on growing heavier and heavier with news from now three sites of tragedy. I would scrupulously avoid the news for months after that but even the slightest reminder of these tragedies produced tears every day for the next six months. I sometimes wondered if I would ever stop weeping.

What I brought away from that sunny afternoon with its avian concert amidst the unprecedented quiet in the heart of my beloved city was that the birds were always there, singing away, hoping to be noticed. That I was unaware of it suggested to me that my life was way too busy.

I began to take time to listen. And to this day, when I hear birds singing overhead, I stop, listen, seeking the source out in the trees, and then offering my respect and my gratitude for the gift they are constantly offering us all.

Image: Lake Underhill Park, Orlando, Florida  

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frharry@cfl.rr.com

hcoverston.orlando@gmail.com

If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding. Most things worth considering do not come in sound bites.

Those who believe religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi

For what does G-d require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d?  - Micah 6:8, Hebrew Scriptures

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. - Rabbi Rami Shapiro, Wisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)

 

© Harry Scott Coverston, 2026

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