In the months following 9.11 the then Archbishop of Wales, Rowan Williams, wrote a little book reflecting on his experience of being in New York a few blocks away from the twin towers on that terrible day. He called the book, ‘Writing in the dust.’ The title refers in part to the clouds of dust and debris that billowed out over New York; but it also reminds us of a moment in the story of Jesus as told by St John. A mob assembles wanting to stone a woman caught in the act of adultery. Jesus is called upon to comment on the law which requires such punishment – it is a tense moment to which Jesus responds by bending down and writing in the dust. He pauses; he gets out of the eye line of his opponents; he creates a moment – a prolonged moment in which people have to reflect as he gives himself time to reflect on what might be said.
We have had ten years for reflection, though much of that time has been taken up by armed conflict, increased security measures and further acts of terrorism. And now there is the continuing threat of a global economic crisis to add to the mounting tension and anxiety which has characterised these ten years. It might seem that our gospel this morning is ideally suited to the day because it speaks of forgiveness. But today is a day for thinking about acts of terrorism committed by representatives of one extremist wing of Islam against American global dominance. And we are not yet in a place to speak of forgiveness – who would forgive whom? So I would rather take as a text for today some words from Genesis: But Joseph said to them, ‘Do not be afraid, Am I in the place of God? ’ Joseph’s brothers have come to Egypt seeking food in a time of famine. They find that the brother they thought they had left to die in the wilderness is now the highest ranking official in the kingdom. They expect punishment but they find tears. But what enables those tears is the recognition that human beings cannot play at being God.
When cracks appear in our assumptions that the world is a secure place and that things are on our side and that our values are the only values worth having, our immediate reaction is to punish those who have caused the cracks to appear and to assert our superior power and authority. We need quickly to identify an enemy and to punish him. And if we believe in God then we may also believe that he is on our side.
And when the actions that threaten our security are as violent, cruel and wicked as those of the 9/11 terrorists then it isn’t difficult to believe that God wants us to fight a war against such terrorists and perhaps also the states which might harbour and support them. But in so thinking we miss one significant and tragic detail. God does not intervene to stop such violent, cruel and wicked acts of terrorism. ‘Where is God in all this?’, people ask. But such evil cannot just be frustrated by God – for where could he stop – he would have to be intervening all over the world and all of the time. So if God did not intervene beforehand it is not obvious that he want us to act like the mighty arm of God in reaction to what he did not prevent. God does not intervene but that does not mean that he is absent; we might almost say that God is the God who is always there afterwards – however tragic the situation. God is there in the stunned silence; God is there in last minute messages of love that were left on the mobile telephones of loved ones; God is there in the heroism of firefighters; God is there with those who do not fill the void with action, striking out passionately to discharge the tension; God is there with those who can live in the presence of the void, who leave a ‘space between their feelings and their choices.’ (p.21)
So what might we reflect on in the long moment’s pause, the space in which even God seems to hold his breath waiting to see what else we might do? When plans were being formulated to devise a building which would replace the twin towers – the new building was initially called the Freedom tower – now it is to be called the 1 World Trade Centre. We should be grateful for the change, for freedom is at the heart of the problem. There is so much talk of the freedom we are called upon to defend, the value which we so much desire for all nations. And yet freedom is not at least from a Christian perspective a value in itself. Freedom for what? God gives us a freedom which we do not know what to do with – our freedom is a kind of receptacle which can be filled as much with evil as with good. Part of the reason why Western freedom has proved so unattractive to Islam is what we have done with our freedom – intervening in the internal affairs of the Arab world, inventing unjust forms of banking, allowing extreme degrees of sexual license, gambling, and drug and alcohol abuse. Freedom unchecked by strong ethical values upheld by the whole community, is a potentially fatal freedom. But equally, strong ethical values cannot be imposed – they have to be learnt slowly and prosaically in the same way in which the New York fire fighters learnt the courage to be heroic.
So if we can give ourselves time to reflect in the aftermath of tragedy, we might first ask what we want to do with our freedoms. And then we might try to explore with peoples of other and perhaps to us alien cultures whether they too value some of the things we value. And for that there has to be the risk of communication. At one level communication has never been easier, so much so that half the time we do not recognize what we are already communicating. Globalization means that quite beyond our control we have a life in the imagination of people all over the world. Images of our culture are everywhere (which is partly why the West can be so resented.) The poor all over the world can now see how the rich live. As the archbishop says, ‘Globalisation means that we are involved in dramas we never thought of, cast in roles we never chose.’ (p.59) And that makes it hard to create a conversation; the other voice may not trust us.
So finally the lesson of 9/11 and all that has happened since may be that we have to learn to live with a vulnerability we have not been used for a long time. We have to learn to live with uncertainty and sometimes fear without simply resorting to denial, panic and the reinforcement of defenses.(p.61) One consequence of the Age of Reason and the loss of faith in the west was the rise of a belief that we could live like God – invulnerable and unassailable, able to do all that we set our minds to. But God is not like that. If we think of the cross as the sign under which we were all baptized we have to learn that God works in and through the deepest vulnerability. As we learn that so we may find that conversations we had never believed possible may come to be because we have allowed ourselves to hesitate and to be vulnerable. (p.77)
When Jesus got up from writing in the dust he knew the words to say – the words which made people desist from their violent intentions and to go away in silent thought, and the words which gave to their victim healing and the possibility of a new life.
This sermon is much influenced by and in places quotes from ‘Writing in the Dust – reflections on the 11th September and its aftermath’ by Rowan Williams (Hodder & Stoughton 2002)