Christmas at Ground Zero, NYC Dec. 2001
I remember back to Christmas Eve, 2001 I attended the midnight service
at the pit at Ground Zero (I was working an Aid Station for the
Salvation Army for 3 weeks). The makeshift alter was a plywood board on
saw horses, behind which was a crude iron cross, a piece fallen as is
from the crumbling towers. I’d like to share this story with you all. I
was overcome with emotion.
After taking the
communion bread in unison, the cup was passed for all to partake. We
had all just finished singing Joy To The World. The midnight mass was
over, it had been a blessing. It was early Christmas morning at ground
zero, it was very cold. As everyone began to disburse back to their
given jobs, I heard the odd, out of place groan of bag pipes coming to
life. I turned to see and there in the dull brightness of artificial
lights was a lone fireman in full gear including the now familiar FDNY
helmet, blowing forcefully into his instrument. I can’t remember one
song he played but the look on his face is indelibly etched into my
heart and soul. The image caused me to weep. The fireman musician looked
forlorn, his eyes red, his cheeks puffed as he struggled as if
desperately trying to breath life into someone he knew was dead. We had
heard that only an hour or so before, another brother fireman had been
pulled from the rubble (about the 10th since we arrived here). It was as
if his bagpipe was his fallen comrade and somehow he wanted to bring
him back to life, yet knowing he couldn’t, his heart was broken. The
look was a look of sadness, desperation and anger all at the same time.
I walked through the site of ground zero, passed “the pit”, surrounded
by devastation, back to the warmth of our little Aid Station, I was
overwhelmed, yet I felt the presence of God who it seemed to me, in all
His Majesty, was weeping also. Despite it all, my heart and soul were
internally reassured and comforted by the Holy Spirit as I was reminded
that on this day, some 2001 years ago, Christ our Savior, Giver of life,
was born. Amidst death, new, cherished life.
at the pit at Ground Zero (I was working an Aid Station for the
Salvation Army for 3 weeks). The makeshift alter was a plywood board on
saw horses, behind which was a crude iron cross, a piece fallen as is
from the crumbling towers. I’d like to share this story with you all. I
was overcome with emotion.
After taking the
communion bread in unison, the cup was passed for all to partake. We
had all just finished singing Joy To The World. The midnight mass was
over, it had been a blessing. It was early Christmas morning at ground
zero, it was very cold. As everyone began to disburse back to their
given jobs, I heard the odd, out of place groan of bag pipes coming to
life. I turned to see and there in the dull brightness of artificial
lights was a lone fireman in full gear including the now familiar FDNY
helmet, blowing forcefully into his instrument. I can’t remember one
song he played but the look on his face is indelibly etched into my
heart and soul. The image caused me to weep. The fireman musician looked
forlorn, his eyes red, his cheeks puffed as he struggled as if
desperately trying to breath life into someone he knew was dead. We had
heard that only an hour or so before, another brother fireman had been
pulled from the rubble (about the 10th since we arrived here). It was as
if his bagpipe was his fallen comrade and somehow he wanted to bring
him back to life, yet knowing he couldn’t, his heart was broken. The
look was a look of sadness, desperation and anger all at the same time.
I walked through the site of ground zero, passed “the pit”, surrounded
by devastation, back to the warmth of our little Aid Station, I was
overwhelmed, yet I felt the presence of God who it seemed to me, in all
His Majesty, was weeping also. Despite it all, my heart and soul were
internally reassured and comforted by the Holy Spirit as I was reminded
that on this day, some 2001 years ago, Christ our Savior, Giver of life,
was born. Amidst death, new, cherished life.
My brother Keith Roma was recovered on that Christmas eve at the WTC. We thought it was fitting since he was such a kid at heart that he would come home for Christmas. We remember this with each Christmas mass that has passed in the last ten yrs. Thank you for remembering.
Just read this again as I look through blogs for a piece…wow. Redemptive.