Vulnerable. That was the word we often said to each other in the days after September 11th. We are startled and shaken by our vulnerability, searingly obvious to us in the news clips of wreckage and the solemn count of casualties. We had taken so much for granted. We had, most of us, believed that we were somehow immune from this kind of widespread tragedy and the churning, overwhelming, stew of feelings which lie so near the surface. "We will never be the same again," people said over and over. And we are raw, exposed, fearful, angry.

Whatever defenses we marshal, internally and externally, personally or nationally, we will carry in our consciousness the throbbing imprint of vulnerability, probably for the rest of our lives. For most of us, it’s a new—and extremely uncomfortable—feeling.

Our experience of vulnerability, as unwelcome as it may be, carries with it a mysterious grace. At least it CAN become a vehicle of grace. No matter what people may say in their agonized attempts to make sense of what is senseless, God’s grace flows freely when we suffer. Mind you, I did NOT say that God causes us to suffer just so that grace may find us. But when suffering comes (and it inevitably will, in a fallen Creation where evil is always hunting for new outlets, always seeking to recruit new agents), the triumph of grace takes countless forms:

• the self-sacrificing spirit of rescue workers, police and fire department personnel

• the common bonds we suddenly experienced as we suffered together

• the spiritual awakening which filled our churches and drove even skeptics to their knees

• the realigned priorities which emerged as we reached out for one another

• the kindling of our generosity, our impulse to give — to give donations, to give blood, to give time, to give ourselves, however we can

This is a time for us to boldly proclaim what we know down deep in our hearts: love is what really matters. We are created in the image of God, whose divine love searches us out; seeking to transform us into creatures who can truly receive that Love in all its power...who can let that Love have its way with us...who can be responsive to that Love’s claim upon us. May the suffering we have experienced open new places within us —- places where Love puts down deep roots and makes us into people who are more than we were: more faithful, more aware, more prayerful, more reverent, more tender with one another in our suffering, more passionate in our commitment to justice and to a safer world for our children... and for all the children of the earth.

There are places in the heart which do not exist yet; and into them, suffering enters, that they may have existence.
—Theodore Rilke

As the crucified and risen Word of God finds a new and receptive place within our wounds, may we too rise into newness of life and dedicate ourselves to all that is good and true and holy. The One who weeps with us is nearer to us than we ever imagined. May God bless each of you in these days.