Reflecting on the Anniversary of September 11, 2001

We Said We’d Never Forget: Reflecting on the Anniversary of September 11, 2001

The morning of September 11, 2001, dawned bright and clear, a seemingly ordinary Tuesday in New York City. The skies were a crisp blue, and the late summer air carried the promise of a new day. People bustled through the streets of Manhattan, heading to work, sipping coffee, and navigating the familiar rhythm of urban life. In the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, workers settled into their offices, unaware that within hours, their lives—and the world—would be irrevocably changed. 

We said we’d never forget, but as the years stretch into decades, the sharp edges of that day’s memory are beginning to blur. Society, distracted by new crises and the relentless march of time, is starting to let the weight of September 11 slip into the background. Yet, on this anniversary, we must pause to remember—not just the tragedy, but the courage, the sacrifice, and the humanity that shone through the darkness.

At 8:46 a.m., American Airlines Flight 11, a Boeing 767 carrying 92 people, including 11 crew members, crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The impact tore a gaping hole between the 93rd and 99th floors, sending a fireball and plumes of black smoke billowing into the sky. Confusion rippled through the city. Was it an accident? A mechanical failure? As television cameras turned toward the burning tower, the nation watched in stunned silence. Seventeen minutes later, at 9:03 a.m., United Airlines Flight 175, carrying 65 people, slammed into the South Tower between the 77th and 85th floors. The second crash erased any doubt: America was under attack. The images of those planes, swallowed by steel and glass, became seared into the collective consciousness—a moment when time seemed to stop.

The horror unfolded with relentless speed. At 9:37 a.m., American Airlines Flight 77 crashed into the western side of the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, killing 184 people, including 59 passengers and crew. A fourth plane, United Airlines Flight 93, carrying 44 people, was hijacked and aimed for an unknown target, likely in Washington, D.C. Thanks to the bravery of passengers and crew who learned of the other attacks via phone calls and fought back, Flight 93 crashed into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, at 10:03 a.m., sparing countless lives at the cost of their own. In New York, the South Tower collapsed at 9:59 a.m., followed by the North Tower at 10:28 a.m., each crumbling in a matter of seconds, sending clouds of dust and debris choking the streets below. By the end of the day, 2,977 lives were lost, including first responders, office workers, airline passengers, and bystanders. The world watched, horrified, as the unimaginable became reality.

Amid the chaos, stories of heroism emerged, bright beacons in the darkness. Father Mychal Judge, a Franciscan friar and chaplain for the New York City Fire Department, was among the first to respond. Known for his compassion and tireless service to the marginalized—homeless people, AIDS patients, and recovering alcoholics—Father Judge rushed to the World Trade Center to offer spiritual support. He was in the lobby of the North Tower, praying and administering last rites to the injured, when debris from the collapsing South Tower struck him. Father Judge, 68, became the first officially recorded fatality of the attacks, his body carried out by firefighters in a haunting image that would later symbolize sacrifice. His life, marked by love and selflessness, ended in an act of profound courage, embodying the spirit of those who ran toward danger to save others.

Firefighters, police officers, and emergency medical personnel became the backbone of the response. Men and women like Firefighter Michael Lynch, who climbed the stairs of the North Tower to rescue trapped workers, only to perish when the building fell. Or Port Authority Police Officer John McLoughlin, who survived being trapped in the rubble for hours, later immortalized in stories of resilience. Ordinary citizens, too, became heroes. In the stairwells of the Twin Towers, strangers helped one another, guiding the injured to safety or carrying those who couldn’t walk. On the streets below, New Yorkers formed human chains, passing water and supplies to first responders. Across the Hudson River, boat captains and civilians organized an impromptu evacuation, ferrying thousands to safety in what became known as the “Boatlift of 9/11.” These acts of bravery and solidarity defined the day, reminding us that even in the face of evil, humanity’s capacity for good endures.

The shock reverberated far beyond New York. Cardinal Edward Egan, the Archbishop of New York, appeared on television that day, his face etched with fear and disbelief covered with soot and ashes. “God help us,” he said, his voice trembling as he grappled with the scale of the tragedy unfolding before him. A man accustomed to offering comfort and guidance, Cardinal Egan was visibly shaken, his words echoing the collective anguish of a nation. His presence on the airwaves, raw and unfiltered, captured the vulnerability felt by millions. Churches, synagogues, and mosques filled with people seeking solace, their prayers mingling with tears. The attacks were not just an assault on buildings but on the very fabric of society—its sense of safety, its trust in the ordinary.

In the days that followed, the world learned the scope of the plot. Nineteen hijackers, orchestrated by the terrorist group al-Qaeda and its leader, Osama bin Laden, had executed a meticulously planned attack. The hijackers, armed with box cutters and a fanatical resolve, exploited vulnerabilities in aviation security, turning commercial airliners into weapons. The targets—the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and likely the U.S. Capitol or White House—symbolized American economic, military, and political power. The message was clear: no one was untouchable. Yet, the response was equally powerful. Volunteers poured into Ground Zero, sifting through rubble in search of survivors. Blood donation centers overflowed. Communities rallied, raising funds and offering support to families shattered by loss. The phrase “United We Stand” became a rallying cry, a testament to resilience in the face of terror.

But as the years have passed, the unity and clarity of that moment have faded. We said we’d never forget, yet society is beginning to. The children born after 2001 have no personal memory of the day; for them, 9/11 is history, not lived experience. The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, launched in response to the attacks, have ended, their outcomes complex and divisive. Political polarization has fractured the sense of shared purpose that once bound the nation. Memorials stand at Ground Zero, the Pentagon, and Shanksville, but the raw emotion of the day—its fear, its grief, its defiance—has softened with time. Social media, once a platform for collective mourning, now buzzes with new controversies, new tragedies. The promise to never forget feels less like a vow and more like a whisper, drowned out by the noise of a world that moves on.

This forgetting is not deliberate but insidious. The demands of daily life—economic pressures, global crises, personal struggles—pull attention away from the past. Yet, the consequences of 9/11 linger. Airport security, once lax, is now a ritual of scrutiny, a reminder of the day’s lasting impact. The Patriot Act, passed in the aftermath, reshaped privacy and surveillance, sparking debates that continue today. The families of the victims, the first responders who still battle illnesses from toxic exposure at Ground Zero, and the veterans of the subsequent wars carry the weight of 9/11 in their bodies and souls. To forget is to diminish their sacrifice, to let the lessons of that day slip through our fingers.

The heroes of 9/11 remind us why remembrance matters. Father Mychal Judge’s life was a testament to service, his death a call to action. The firefighters who climbed stairwells knowing they might not return, the passengers on Flight 93 who fought back against impossible odds, the ordinary people who became extraordinary in a moment of crisis—their stories demand to be told. Cardinal Egan’s stunned plea for divine help captured a universal longing for meaning amid chaos. These are not just historical footnotes but touchstones of human resilience, courage, and compassion. To honor them, we must do more than pause for a moment of silence; we must actively keep their memory alive.

Society’s drift toward forgetting is not inevitable. Schools can teach the history of 9/11, not just as a timeline of events but as a story of human spirit. Communities can hold vigils, not out of obligation but out of reverence. Individuals can share stories—of the victims, the heroes, the survivors—with younger generations, ensuring that the weight of the day endures. We can visit the memorials, read the names etched in stone, and reflect on what was lost and what was gained. The promise to never forget is a commitment to carry the past into the future, to let it shape how we live, how we love, and how we stand together.

As we mark this anniversary, let us renew that promise. Let us remember the 2,977 lives taken too soon, the families left to grieve, the heroes who gave everything. Let us honor the resilience of a nation that, for a moment, set aside differences to stand as one. And let us pray, as Cardinal Egan did, for divine guidance in a world still searching for peace.

A Prayer for Those Who Perished

Eternal God, source of all hope and healing, we come before you on this solemn day to remember the lives lost on September 11, 2001. We lift up the souls of the 2,977 who perished—the workers in the towers, the passengers on the planes, the first responders who ran toward danger, and all whose lives were taken by hatred. Grant them eternal rest, O Lord, and let your light shine upon them.

Comfort the families who carry the ache of loss, the survivors who bear the scars of that day, and the first responders still suffering from its aftermath. Give strength to those who rebuild, who remember, who refuse to let evil have the final word. Inspire us to honor the fallen through acts of love, courage, and unity.

We pray for the heroes—Father Mychal Judge, the firefighters, the police officers, the ordinary people who became extraordinary. May their sacrifice remind us to live with purpose and compassion. Guide our world toward peace, that the pain of this day may never be repeated. And hold us, as you held those who cried out in fear and grief, with your boundless mercy.

God help us, as we strive to never forget. Amen.