Drawn to the scene

A couple of years after the 9/11 terrorism, I was in New York on business and had very little time to tour the city. It was so bitterly cold I had to buy a hat & gloves from a dude on the street. So what did I decide to do in the frigid cold, with very little time, and having never been in the city before? Instead of hanging out in the warm hotel watching ESPN, I felt compelled to figure out how to get near the World Trade Center rubble, which I did. Fast forward to today. I had no intention or desire to see the collapsed bridge that I've driven across hundreds (perhaps thousands) of times and which now claimed the life of a co-worker and others. However, after a quick prayer service, I found myself walking the 8 blocks or so to get a view of it... and I was far from alone.

Why am I attracted to the scene of a major disaster? For me it is not about looking at the structural damange from an enginerring or architectural standpoint. For me its not about wanting to experience the grief/agony/hopelessness of family, friends, and rescue workers. I've never been someone compelled to be somewhere just so I could say I've been somewhere. I don't know what it is.... perhaps it is to better understand the magnitude of the situation. Perhaps it is because when I am there, alone in my silence, I freeze time and imagine how life was different when the bridge or building was still standing. Perhaps it allows me to solidify history in my mind by seeing it in three dimensions instead of just on the flat screen. Perhaps it is the sense of community I feel when I stand near what amounts to a graveyard with hundreds of other people, all standing in silence - many with hats removed, most with cell phones off - all knowing what each other are thinking without saying a word.

Could it be in these brief moments of agonizing unity that we are as close to community as we ever get? It doesn't matter if who is next to me is black or white, male or female, Greek or Jew, slave or free, young or old, married or single, tattooed or not, pierced or not, crooked-hat or not, fan of rap or jazz or country or gospel, and for that matter if they are a Christ-follower or not. Wait.... it is more than just "it doesn't matter", it is actually "I don't even notice." Strangely enough, in those moments of being captivated by imagination where time stands still in the hollows of a tragic event, I feel more at one with humankind than I do at any other point in my regular life. I wonder (and wondering publicly is dangerous) if, in some strange way, this is what it is like to "let the things of earth grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace." Now, this obviously isn't God's glory and grace, but I wonder if the feeling is the same in regard to how life gets diminished as something else gets magnified. OK, I'm in full out rambling mode now... I am now recalling other times that I had this same life-diminishing feelings, but these are more joyous times: I am thinking now of sporting events and large worship settings.... it was the same unity; the same one-ness; the same feeling that no one has to say anything and I feel like I know what they are thinking and feeling. And in each case it is raw emotion.

Do you think all of this comes back to our desire for true community? I guess I didn't answer my question about what draws me to the physical location of the disaster, but perhaps I have a better understanding of what the feeling I experience is once I'm there. Something about getting absolutely lost in the moment with a community of others and each one of our "everythings" faded away. Hmmm, interested myself in my pondering.