It's Hallowed Ground Zero
Sunday, March 31, 2002
NY Daily News
By Michael Daly
After the Good Friday recitation of the 12th station of the cross, the recovery workers knelt for a moment of silence at the edge of the ground made holy by the courage and sacrifice of people of all faiths.
"Let us never forget those who perished here," said the Rev. Brian Jordan.
Jordan wore the brown habit of a Franciscan friar. The dried mud spattered around the hem was the light gray of the powder to which the twin towers ground themselves when they collapsed, the gray that for too many of us has replaced black as the color of death.
The dust had lain thick upon the still smoldering site on the second Sunday after the attack, when a laborer named Frank Silecchia led Jordan to where part of the north tower had fallen into 6 World Trade Center. They passed a spray-painted sign reading "God's House" and Silecchia pointed to a 20-foot cross he had found standing erect amid the twisted wreckage.
Jordan arranged for the cross to be extracted and bolted to a concrete abutment on West St. The progress of the work eventually caused the cross to be shifted to the other side of the ruins, a few feet from a temporary wood structure and another sign, this reading "Morgue Field Mortuary."
Just before noon on Good Friday, Jordan arrived at the cross in his muddied habit. He gathered a group of 20 recovery workers in a semicircle at the base of the cross. He distributed photocopies of the 14 stations, the recitations that follow Jesus' path from condemnation through crucifixion to the tomb.
NYPD Sgt. Gerard Kearney read aloud the first. The man beside Kearney read next, and so it went. The fifth was read by Andrew Macchio of the Sanitation Department. The eighth was read by Port Authority Lt. John Ryan, commander of the recovery task force. The ninth was read by Fire Capt. Jim Ellson.
Honoring the Dead
After the 12th, when Jesus dies on the cross, came the moment of silence for the dead. The semicircle knelt as the sounds of laboring machines rose from the site that spread out below as if the cross stood atop Calvary. A hoe-ram hammered against a concrete wall. A grappler's engine revved.
The work is nearly done, and an earthmover's shovel blade scraped audibly on bedrock as it scooped up more of the dwindling debris. The driver then went into reverse, working the shovel so that it spread the contents with gentleness that did not seem possible for such a big gruff machine.
Once the debris was canted into a thin layer, a crew of firefighters began raking through it under the bright noontime sun. The sky overhead was nearly as blue as on the day of the attack. The slight breeze barely rippled the American flag atop a 30-foot steel column that is slated to be the last piece of wreckage trucked away.
Up by the cross, the worshipers proceeded though the 14th and final station. Jordan administered absolution in the way of his fallen fellow friar, Fire Chaplain Mychal Judge.
"Are you sorry for your sins?" Jordan called out.
"Yes!" the worshipers said.
Jordan then opened a jam jar filled with Communion wafers. The worshipers stepped up one by one for the promise of eternal life in this place of death.
"The body of Christ," Jordan said to each as they stood above the search for the body of Kevin and the body of Ray and the body of Sylvia and the bodies of hundreds more.
Simple and Gentle
The sun-splashed ceremony was simple perfection and at its heart was not the majesty of a cardinal or bishop on high, but a gentleness like that of the earthmover below.
For a moment, you could have been looking at the earliest Christians and you did not have to believe in Jesus' resurrection to recognize and respect their heartfelt faith. You could not help but think that the church was doing fine until it started building churches.
As Ryan, Ellson, Kearney, Macchio and the others joined hands to say "The Lord's Prayer," the earthmover in the pit scooped up more debris. A truck laden with inspected debris climbed the long steel ramp leading up to the street. The day is fast approaching when the last load will roll away and too many families will have to give up any hope the bodies of their loved ones will be recovered.
The body of Christ received, the newly absolved and blessed worshipers returned to the effort. Jordan caught a ride back to the friary on W. 31st St. from Macchio of Sanitation.
The news radio was on, and Secretary of State Powell was speaking about the worsening crisis in the Holy Land as Jordan rode uptown. The streets were packed with shoppers and you could remember a time when terrorism seemed an evil only of distant places.
Macchio sings like Sanitation has a garage in heaven, and Jordan asked him to come up with something apt for Easter Mass.
"Last Sunday, I sang 'St. Francis' Prayer,'" Macchio said.
"I want something more lively," Jordan said. "A resurrection song."
Macchio sang a few lines of "On Eagle's Wings."
"That's fine," Jordan said.
Powell was still on the radio. The van drove past more shoppers.
"Keep singing, Andrew," Jordan said.
At sunrise this morning, the new fire chaplain, fellow friar Christopher Keenan, will say the first Easter Mass at the cross above the site. Jordan will say the second at 10:30 a.m. and then Macchio will send a resurrection song across the holy ground.
NY Daily News
By Michael Daly
After the Good Friday recitation of the 12th station of the cross, the recovery workers knelt for a moment of silence at the edge of the ground made holy by the courage and sacrifice of people of all faiths.
"Let us never forget those who perished here," said the Rev. Brian Jordan.
Jordan wore the brown habit of a Franciscan friar. The dried mud spattered around the hem was the light gray of the powder to which the twin towers ground themselves when they collapsed, the gray that for too many of us has replaced black as the color of death.
The dust had lain thick upon the still smoldering site on the second Sunday after the attack, when a laborer named Frank Silecchia led Jordan to where part of the north tower had fallen into 6 World Trade Center. They passed a spray-painted sign reading "God's House" and Silecchia pointed to a 20-foot cross he had found standing erect amid the twisted wreckage.
Jordan arranged for the cross to be extracted and bolted to a concrete abutment on West St. The progress of the work eventually caused the cross to be shifted to the other side of the ruins, a few feet from a temporary wood structure and another sign, this reading "Morgue Field Mortuary."
Just before noon on Good Friday, Jordan arrived at the cross in his muddied habit. He gathered a group of 20 recovery workers in a semicircle at the base of the cross. He distributed photocopies of the 14 stations, the recitations that follow Jesus' path from condemnation through crucifixion to the tomb.
NYPD Sgt. Gerard Kearney read aloud the first. The man beside Kearney read next, and so it went. The fifth was read by Andrew Macchio of the Sanitation Department. The eighth was read by Port Authority Lt. John Ryan, commander of the recovery task force. The ninth was read by Fire Capt. Jim Ellson.
Honoring the Dead
After the 12th, when Jesus dies on the cross, came the moment of silence for the dead. The semicircle knelt as the sounds of laboring machines rose from the site that spread out below as if the cross stood atop Calvary. A hoe-ram hammered against a concrete wall. A grappler's engine revved.
The work is nearly done, and an earthmover's shovel blade scraped audibly on bedrock as it scooped up more of the dwindling debris. The driver then went into reverse, working the shovel so that it spread the contents with gentleness that did not seem possible for such a big gruff machine.
Once the debris was canted into a thin layer, a crew of firefighters began raking through it under the bright noontime sun. The sky overhead was nearly as blue as on the day of the attack. The slight breeze barely rippled the American flag atop a 30-foot steel column that is slated to be the last piece of wreckage trucked away.
Up by the cross, the worshipers proceeded though the 14th and final station. Jordan administered absolution in the way of his fallen fellow friar, Fire Chaplain Mychal Judge.
"Are you sorry for your sins?" Jordan called out.
"Yes!" the worshipers said.
Jordan then opened a jam jar filled with Communion wafers. The worshipers stepped up one by one for the promise of eternal life in this place of death.
"The body of Christ," Jordan said to each as they stood above the search for the body of Kevin and the body of Ray and the body of Sylvia and the bodies of hundreds more.
Simple and Gentle
The sun-splashed ceremony was simple perfection and at its heart was not the majesty of a cardinal or bishop on high, but a gentleness like that of the earthmover below.
For a moment, you could have been looking at the earliest Christians and you did not have to believe in Jesus' resurrection to recognize and respect their heartfelt faith. You could not help but think that the church was doing fine until it started building churches.
As Ryan, Ellson, Kearney, Macchio and the others joined hands to say "The Lord's Prayer," the earthmover in the pit scooped up more debris. A truck laden with inspected debris climbed the long steel ramp leading up to the street. The day is fast approaching when the last load will roll away and too many families will have to give up any hope the bodies of their loved ones will be recovered.
The body of Christ received, the newly absolved and blessed worshipers returned to the effort. Jordan caught a ride back to the friary on W. 31st St. from Macchio of Sanitation.
The news radio was on, and Secretary of State Powell was speaking about the worsening crisis in the Holy Land as Jordan rode uptown. The streets were packed with shoppers and you could remember a time when terrorism seemed an evil only of distant places.
Macchio sings like Sanitation has a garage in heaven, and Jordan asked him to come up with something apt for Easter Mass.
"Last Sunday, I sang 'St. Francis' Prayer,'" Macchio said.
"I want something more lively," Jordan said. "A resurrection song."
Macchio sang a few lines of "On Eagle's Wings."
"That's fine," Jordan said.
Powell was still on the radio. The van drove past more shoppers.
"Keep singing, Andrew," Jordan said.
At sunrise this morning, the new fire chaplain, fellow friar Christopher Keenan, will say the first Easter Mass at the cross above the site. Jordan will say the second at 10:30 a.m. and then Macchio will send a resurrection song across the holy ground.