Between the Sky and the Earth
This ninth anniversary of the attacks of Sept. 11 marks the end of nearly one decade of remembrance of the victims in a climate of universal and global spiritual meditation. The eternal lack of certainty regarding God, together with an awakening in the West of a concrete and perceived fear of Islamic radicalism has permitted an imbecile with a mustache to suddenly light the streets on fire over the clash of civilizations. A Palestinian anthropologist from Columbia, in “Covering Islam” asks, “What is it about ‘Islam’ that has that so quickly provoked such an excessive response?” Perhaps the imbeciles are us. In the Madrid neighborhood of Chamberí, a discreet Jewish community celebrated Rosh Hashanah this week, heralding the new year of 5771 (note: what an idiotic country ours is, still being anti-Semitic). In the entire world, the followers of Mohammed celebrate the end of Ramadan, and intelligent Christians were enjoying the controversy awakened by Stephen Hawking’s statement that “It is not necessary to invoke God to ... set the Universe going.” Until one Terry Jones announced that he was going to burn a book.
The Twin Towers, like the spiritual revelations of men, were suspended between the sky and the earth, “half watchtower half muezzin, half tower half minaret, half flat roof half monastery, half island half battering ram,” as written by our friend Alfonso Armada in his book “New York, Desire and Illusion.” Their absence leaves us with the celestial vision of the tightrope walker Philippe Petit hanging between the two buildings (see “Man on Wire,” 2008), as well as the earthly horror of a plane charging into them. The memory was described by the father of one victim to Virginia Ródenas in her back page interview yesterday, “Each Sept. 11, a chaplain at my university prays before the grave with my wife, my mother and my daughter. A Catholic priest, my Protestant self and my Jewish wife. This is New York.”
The Twin Towers, like the spiritual revelations of men, were suspended between the sky and the earth, “half watchtower half muezzin, half tower half minaret, half flat roof half monastery, half island half battering ram,” as written by our friend Alfonso Armada in his book “New York, Desire and Illusion.” Their absence leaves us with the celestial vision of the tightrope walker Philippe Petit hanging between the two buildings (see “Man on Wire,” 2008), as well as the earthly horror of a plane charging into them. The memory was described by the father of one victim to Virginia Ródenas in her back page interview yesterday, “Each Sept. 11, a chaplain at my university prays before the grave with my wife, my mother and my daughter. A Catholic priest, my Protestant self and my Jewish wife. This is New York.”
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