Fall 2001

In a time of tragedy: hope and love through faith

(Originally published in the Fall 2001 edition of GONZAGA, the alumni publication.)

The Gonzaga University community met the recent national tragedy with unity, reflection, a call to higher purpose, principles, and, above all, faith. In perhaps the deepest of all ironies, God working through our spirit of love can bring hope out of desolation, light out of darkness, and even love out of hatred.
On Sept. 11, Gonzaga held two memorial Masses and an evening vigil for the victims of the tragedy and our nation. We also held a memorial Mass on Friday, Sept. 14, the National Day of Mourning. Each service was packed with numbers ranging from 800-1,000 people.
Our outpouring of faith was so remarkable that it attracted local and even national media attention as a picture of the Sept. 11 memorial at St. Aloysius Church appeared in Time magazine. But, this is not the point. Gonzaga showed leadership and faith which in turn led to a level of wisdom and reflection calling forth a deep love (agape) filled with compassion and depth of vision. Together, we began to see the possibility of good coming from evil, and even the "miracles" which happened on Sept.11 preventing greater tragedy. We felt a call to find a better path to peace and the common good.
In my homily to the students on the evening of Sept. 11, I indicated that we should not fall prey to three traps which commonly arise in the midst of tragedy: 1) the desire for the visceral satisfaction of vengeance, 2) to generalize the depravity of the day's actions to all humanity and to life in general, and 3) the temptation to see only dark in the darkness.
With respect to the first trap, we know as Christians that violence begets violence and vengeance begets vengeance, and the only way to stop the widening spiral of hatred is to forgive. We all know how difficult this is, but we must or we will destroy ourselves. Jesus' paramount virtue is forgiveness. It is mentioned more times in the New Testament than virtually all other moral prescription and commandments combined. Jesus did not give us a commandment without a grace. He allows us to give our hurt, anger, and desire for visceral retaliation over to Him. When I try to forgive by myself, I find it virtually impossible, but when I pray this prayer, God seems to take over and help: "Lord, you are the just judge, you take care of this person in this situation."
The second trap is like an unmitigated cynicism about life and people. When we come up against inexplicable violence, it shakes us to our core. It is not only unintelligible, it is alienating, and often causes us to lose faith in humanity. One wants to shout, "This is so typical of life and X-group of people," but the fact is, it is not. X-group does not typically indulge in inexplicable violence, and life is not typically inexplicably tragic. On the whole, people are good, wonderfully good, and life, despite its stresses, is blessed indeed. If we resist the temptation to generalize, if we become nuanced in our observations, then tragedy frequently increases the depth and breadth of vision, opens up the possibility to see humanity in a new light, and irony of ironies, dispels prejudice instead of creating it.
The third trap is to see only darkness in the darkness. This is, of course, the easiest perspective amid tragedy. Yet, in our faith in the unconditionally loving God, we know that this is false. Light is in the darkness, even if it is difficult to see, and if we believe in that light, it grows until it becomes a manifestation of agape (compassionate, forgiving love).
As we survey the darkness of Sept. 11, we can see little beacons of the light of Unconditional Agape: the heroism of passengers, victims, firemen, and policeman, leaders rising to the occasion of wise strength; a nation more unified than it has been in three decades; an almost universal probing into the deepest and most important purpose in life; a questioning of previous perceptions about society and the world; a renewed search for rights and the common good; and a sensitivity to faith and love going beyond our highest expectations. If we believe in the light, hold fast to it, and act upon it, the light of the unconditionally loving God will grow, bringing good from evil, peace from disharmony, and love from hatred.
Gonzagans seemed to have appropriated these lessons in their close community of reflection, faith, and agape. We were there for one another, we have a greater sense of hope amid
some uncertainty and foreboding, and we are all better persons for it. In my faith, this is the mystery of the Cross unfolded, and the grace of the Holy Spirit come fully alive.