Barbara Cohen, Ph.D., was a longtime volunteer at the St. Paul’s Chapel relief ministry to ground zero workers. Here, she reflects on the second anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.
It was wonderful to be back at the Chapel. To see the familiar faces, new faces seeking comfort and prayer, the return of the votive candle stand, the site of so many tears and prayers; to hear music filling the Chapel.
As time goes on I see more and more that life is about contradictions and how to reconcile and balance them. For me, on the one hand I am profoundly grateful that the doors of St. Paul's opened for the relief ministry. On the other hand I feel a bit orphaned and shut out, wishing we volunteers could have some part in the planning of what happens at the Chapel, to still be part of the family.
Like the story of the little drummer boy, and the "nail soup" of my own shtetl tradition, in the ministry we could each give what we were able. The acceptance, love and trust, the feeling of being exactly where you should be in the whole universe is hard to describe.
There are of course new tasks to accomplish and we have moved on to them, but St. Paul's was something very special. Here we are, many of us I believe, treasuring our memories and mementos of St. Paul's, holding them more precious than anything else we possess, and missing the "beloved community" that existed within these walls.
I feel almost subversive, and certainly at times mischievous and rebellious, wanting to say, "Don't you know?" I am part of the silent or shadow congregation of St. Paul's. I belong to it and it belongs to me. Nothing can change this.
Posted on Trinity News, October 1, 2003
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