JESUS IS THE ONLY ANSWER TO EVIL

Bishop Mark’s homily for the 25th anniversary of 9/11

A person puts their hand on a picture of Franciscan Father Mychal Judge, a chaplain with the New York Fire Department, next to the reflecting pools at the 9/11 Memorial in New York City Sept. 11, 2026, during a ceremony marking the 25th anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. Father Judge died while giving last rites to a firefighter in the aftermath of the attacks that brought down the center's iconic twin towers. (OSV News photo/Jeenah Moon, pool via Reuters) (Courtesy photo of Jeenah Moon)

Editor’s note: Bishop Mark O’Connell delivered this homily at Historic St. Mary’s in Albany on Sept. 11.

The wounds and scars of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, are still all around us. Recently I was taking off from Logan Airport in Boston when the passenger next to me pointed out the American flag hanging over the gate of our departure. In the days soon after the tragedy, American flags were placed over the gates from which two of the planes took off; those flags have marked the gates ever since. Here in this neighborhood, on the Cathedral side of Empire Plaza, the New York State Museum maintains a permanent exhibit: “World Trade Center: Rescue, Recovery, Response.” A few months ago I visited it, carrying my own personal memories of that awful day. Two days ago, in Most Holy Redeemer Cemetery in Niskayuna, I was shown one of the many graves of the victims — James Matthew Patrick, who died in the World Trade Center at the age of 30.

That same sense of vulnerability reached you here in Albany. On that day Mayor Jerry Jennings and city officials were placed on high alert because the Corning Tower, standing here in downtown Albany, is the tallest structure in New York State north of New York City. Suddenly even our own skyline felt fragile.

My own personal scars from that day only remind me that all of us carry the echoes of this hateful act. For some, however, they are not scars but still-open wounds that have never healed. To those who survived that horrible day, and to those who lost a loved one — whether at the World Trade Center, at the Pentagon, or aboard the planes — today we pause to remember you and to grieve with you.

The world is different now because of that day. Beyond TSA security lines and wars in lands we never imagined could touch us, the world feels different in its palpable fragility. In the world of my childhood we feared nuclear disaster; the drills of hiding under our desks now seem almost quaint. On September 11 war touched our own shores, and we were helpless to stop it. So many of us were watching the news after the first tower was struck, baffled — then, over the shoulder of Peter Jennings in my case, we literally witnessed the second plane strike, and afterward watched each tower fall. None of us have ever been the same. Twenty-five years later the moments of that day remain seared into our memories.

The only thing that ultimately makes sense in our contemplation of this evil is the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Jesus is the only true answer to the problem of evil. That our final reward is in heaven and not here on earth is the only way to begin to understand why some died and others survived; why some suddenly lost spouses, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, friends and neighbors while others lived; why rescue workers who heroically walked toward the site rather than away from it have suffered its effects for the rest of their lives. God became man and dwelt among us. God suffered with us, broke the chains of hell, and showed us that there is life after death — and that there are eternal consequences for our actions, both good and bad.

Without faith, the concept of a suffering God can seem ridiculous. How can an all-powerful, eternal divinity who created the universe possibly suffer? The answer is that God does not suffer in the sense of being diminished; rather, God “suffers with.” For God so loved the world that he sent his only Son, born of the Virgin Mary, who lived among us as one of us — fully God and fully man. In Jesus, God has known our pain because Jesus was pained; God has known our wounds because Jesus was wounded; God has known our sorrow and our tears because Jesus wept; God has known the cruelty of others because Jesus was whipped, beaten and mercilessly nailed to the Cross; God has known our cries for help because Jesus cried out to the heavens; God has known us even unto death because Jesus bowed his head and died.

Yet the same God who created the world for his own, who formed the skies and the oceans and the forests, also knows our goodness, our innate dignity, and our worth. Jesus experienced the caress of his mother, the protectiveness of his earthly father Joseph, the loyalty of Mary Magdalene and Saint John, the friendship of Bethany, the camaraderie of Peter and the apostles, the beauty of the lilies of the field, the power of the sea, and the deep connection of prayer. God has seen us at our worst and had mercy upon us; God has seen us at our best and rejoiced in us.

And through the death and resurrection of Jesus we know that goodness always triumphs over evil. Do you remember the days after 9/11? Did hate rule the land that had been attacked? No. The country came together in prayer and in service to one another. The whole nation responded with common concern and love. Young men and women immediately signed up for military service; our police and fire personnel were cheered and honored; the entire transportation system was transformed and made safer. Twenty-five years later we have not forgotten; we have not grown complacent. Most of all, we know that good triumphs over evil because Jesus triumphed over the Cross, rose from the dead, and invites us to be with him — and with those we love — in heaven. That is our only ultimate goal.

May those who died on that day, and those who have died because of that day, continue to live on in our memories. And may their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.