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I wrote this reflection on the one-year anniversary of 9/11 as a way to process what I experienced that day, but also to remember. Memories fade and even change. Revisiting this reflection on the twentieth anniversary of that horrible day both challenges and changes some of my memories of that day.   I live two blocks south of what was the World Trade Center, in a section of New York known as Battery Park City. It is the most beautiful neighborhood in Manhattan, with tree-lined streets, parks, and a spectacular backdrop of the Hudson River. Although quiet and residential, it is but minutes from the hyperactivity of Wall Street and City Hall—a small suburban enclave at the southern tip of the capital of the world. My wife Sandy and I bought a small studio apartment (our first home) the previous summer and had only recently finished decorating.  We loved living in Battery Park City. There was only one thing that concerned Sandy. Every so often, when walking past the World Trade ...

This sermon was delivered at Yale Divinity School in 2020 for the class Sacred Moments in African-American Preaching. I begin with a simple observation. Of the four canonical gospels, Matthew is the only one that ends with the words of Jesus. Mark, Luke, and John all end in the narrator’s voice, but Matthew closes with the words of Jesus. Mark ends at the tomb, with the women fleeing in terror and amazement. Luke ends with the disciples in Jerusalem, praising at the temple. John ends on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, with a dialogue between Jesus and Peter. And here Matthew ends with the disciples in Galilee, meeting Jesus at the mountain where he had directed them.                Matthew gives Jesus the last word. But before we get to those last words, there are three other words in this passage that I call to our attention because I find them astonishing. Let me read verse 17 once more. “When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some do...