Everyone remembers where they were when the planes struck the twin towers on September 11, 2001. The words, “Never forget,” are repeated each year as Americans mourn the harrowing events now seared in the memory of our country. But the memorials and services present a challenge to those of us born after that dreadful day: How can we remember something we never experienced?
We cannot. It can never be adequately impressed upon us how the world changed that day, nor can the shock of seeing the sky falling on Manhattan be felt. So what can be done? Rather than remember that day, we must carry forward the good from those ashes—love for God, country, and neighbor.
Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda were motivated by a hatred for the United States and all that she stood for, kindled by her military involvement in the Middle East. Bin Laden wanted the world to live under Sharia Law and viewed American liberty as a grave evil. His 1998 Fatwa—which claimed that America had declared war against God and his messenger—declared that the killing of Americans was the “individual duty for every Muslim who can do it in any country in which it is possible to do it.”
Our continued survival stands in the face of this challenge. Our Christian faith stands athwart bin Laden’s most clear wish: that all should convert to Islam. A 2002 ‘Letter to America’ by bin Laden includes specific instructions for Americans: “The first thing that we are calling you to is Islam.”
Imagine bin Laden’s dismay, then, when Americans responded to 9/11 with an outpouring of Christian prayer. This statement may seem naive, but in this landscape, the spiritual battle carries at least equal weight to physical combat. Across the country, millions of prayers and thousands of funerals were offered, and hundreds of candles were lit at our own Grotto. At Notre Dame, the immediate response was to gather in prayer. Less than six hours after the attack, an estimated 7,000 people gathered for Mass on South Quad.
Bin Laden’s second request was an end to American immorality and debauchery. Surprisingly, the terrorist’s critique of American freedom is not entirely off the mark. He was right to note that we often conflate freedom with license and abuse it in acts of sexual perversion and avarice. He is even right to note that true freedom is found in following the laws of God. Yet, he was led astray by a false notion of God’s law, for he departed from the truths found in the Gospels, from Truth itself.
We are told in the book of Galatians, 5:13, “For you were called to freedom, brethren; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be servants of one another.” This is what we are called to use our freedom for—not license, but love. Love, as Saint Thomas Aquinas defines it, is to will the good of another. It is not some amorphous, sappy feeling. It is a positive good.
The American Founders defined freedom similarly. Benjamin Franklin wrote that “only a virtuous people are capable of freedom.” The Constitution affords immense rights and privileges to us Americans, but this freedom comes with a responsibility to strive for virtue.
Therefore, we must use our freedom in this capacity. This is how we perpetuate not only the founding ideals that make our country great, but also the foundational truths expressed in the words of our Savior.
The immediate wake of the attacks on 9/11 was marked by an uncharacteristic sense of unity in America, a type of unity unimaginable to our increasingly divided nation. Public prayer outpoured as communities expressed their grief to a loving God who appeared silent. Yet, He was working through each of them.
Notre Dame alumnus, Jimmy Dunne III, was rebuilding his company at the time. A Wall Street executive for the firm Sandler O’Neill, housed on the 104th floor of the World Trade Center’s South Tower, Dunne lost one third of his company that day, including his best friend. He responded to the attacks by resuming business. He picked up where he left off in order to support those spouses and children who lost their mother or father.
Dunne decided to continue paying the families of victims, to enlarge bonuses, to create college funds for those children who lost a parent that day, and to increase benefits for as long as he could. As a result of his efforts, 76 children graduated college, supported by the very same fund. He responded to tragedy by picking up his burden and loving those around him.
Freedom is the only means by which love exists, for love cannot be demanded or forced. It is this freedom, protected by the Constitution, which terrorism threatens.
Our freedom, scorned by bin Laden, is a God-given gift ordered toward virtue. As Notre Dame seeks to be a powerful means for good in this world, let us use our freedom to serve one another in charity and pray unceasingly that we—and our enemies—might one day be united with God.
Caleb Vaughan is a senior studying chemical engineering with minors in business and theology. You can reach him at cvaugha2@nd.edu.