Nil nimium studeo...*

I did not watch the start of ABC's heinous mockery of history last night. Neither will I watch its scheduled conclusion this evening.

I have scrupulously avoided listening to, watching, and, to a certain extent, even reading about any of Preznit Clueless McFartsalot's series of speeches trying to recover the mojo he's lost since that terrible, awful day, five years ago. I absolutely will not be watching the Boy Who Would Be King's televised address from the Oval Office tonight.

*The title of the post is the start, in Latin, of Catullus' 93rd poem. It means "I don't care in the slightest." You'll see why that's appropriate below the fold.

I refuse to play along or get involved in the media circus surrounding this anniversary because everything that Bush, the Republicans (and, to a certain extent, the Democrats as well), and the media have done in the run-up to this five-year anniversary has been about scaring the bejesus out of the American electorate in the (hopefully vain) attempt to keep the Republicans in power or otherwise to make political gains off of what was undoubtedly a national tragedy of immense proportions. And if that wasn't the motive, it was to play on our emotions, our need to make some sense of that horrible day and the events that followed, solely to gain some financial or ratings advantage. In other words, remembering, commemorating, respecting, or telling the unvarnished truth about 11 September 2001 has been the last thing on anyone's mind. That's sacrilege, and I refuse to have anything to do with it.

It is my considered opinion as an historian that it will be at least half a century before we begin to make even some sense out of the sequence of events that led up to the terror attacks of five years ago. It will be at least that long before many of the government's documents begin to be made available for routine public scrutiny--assuming, for the sake of argument, that the Shrubbery's self-serving attempt to classify every one of the preznit's fart jokes and anything else to do with its band of bunglers has been undone. It will likely take even longer still before historians and other scholars can begin to make sense of what the documents have to say, sort out the real information from the false, and begin writing a factual history of what happened. I'd rather wait for the authoritative version to come out than waste my time with Disney's fictionalized retelling of what is probably not anything even close to the truth.

I will not be flying my flag today. Even if rain weren't in the forecast all day, I still wouldn't put it out. I don't want to give even the appearance of agreeing with the present administration's attempt to warp and politicize (and, I would argue, desecrate) this national tragedy. I can't for the life of me understand why CNN would want to rebroadcast in real time its original 11 September coverage. I make every possible effort to avoid even using the ubiquitous "9-11" reference, as if that day five years ago were the only 11th of September ever to have any meaning in the world.

But I do remember the day. It is but one of the many days that are burned forever into my memory--most of them for anything but good reasons. The day the Challenger exploded. The day Discovery blew up on re-entry. The day the late pope was shot.

My remembrance, however, will not be dictated by a media conglomerate, nor decreed by a government official. I will go to Mass this noon and offer prayers for those who died--and for those who killed them. I will wear a red garment, the color appropriate in the Catholic tradition for the remembrance of a martyr. And I will pray the prayer that has hung on my bathroom mirror these last five years, courtesy of Pax Christi USA and Sr. Mary Lou Kownacki, OSB:

Prayer in Time of Terrorism

O God, I do not know where to turn in a time of terrorism. I have no easy answers or solutions to acts of terror against the innocent. When buildings explode without warning, when the defenseless are murdered without reason, I am tempted to retaliate with vengeance. I am tempted to place the flag above the cross and put my faith in the state rather than the Sermon on the Mount. I am afraid to face my deepest fears of suffering and death, both for myself and those I love.

O God, be merciful to me a sinner and understand my weakness, my lack of trust. I lift my heart to a God of forgiveness, of compassion, of peace. I believe that You are not present in any act of violence. I believe that every human being is a child of God and that all nations and religions are embraced by You. I believe that violence ignites greater violence and that in the long line of history our only lasting legacy is love.

I recommit myself to nonviolence as a witness of Your love. I will cast out fear and boldly live love for neighbor and enemy. I will cast out fear and renounce hatred, desire for revenge and works of war. I will cast out fear and publicly proclaim that You are a God of unlimited and unconditional love.

I recommit myself to nonviolence as a witness of Your love. I will embrace the suffering of others and wipe every tear from their eyes. I will devote my days to works of mercy and justice, not to deeds of death and destruction. I will give my passion to kindness and beauty and imagination. I commit to hope and the children of tomorrow.

Amen.

Comments

[Mustang Bobby]

I'm remembering the day in my own way and in the Quaker tradition of silence. (I'd provide a link to my site, but the net is being extremely slow today.)

[Michael]

The tubes do seem to be more than usually clogged, yes. For folks using Blogger, the sticking point seems to be Haloscan, at least if the status bar on my browser is to be believed.

[Mustang Bobby]

Okay, here's the link.