September 3, 2006

Spoke to the Revered Stuart Hoke this week. Ever since September 11, he has been keeping the faith, in a thousand ways, at St. Paul's Chapel, part of Trinity Church (the so-called "little chapel that could," which survived despite its proximity to the former World Trade Center). Hoke was at the spiritual epicenter of the tragedy and has remained there ever since. The chapel, he says, welcomes between 25,000 and 45,000 visitors a week, the crowds getting larger with each passing year.

He is reading Watching the World Change, he says, and is busy helping to coordinate the church's September 11 plans, but he took time to share his memories from 2001 and to explain how his life has been transformed over the last five years.

On the morning of 9/11, he says, he saw the attacks from the corner of Liberty and Greenwich Streets. At the advice of the rector, he quickly sought cover in the church with the organist and struggled to come up with prayers, songs, and words of insight for the throngs of worshippers who continued to stream in through the doors of the nave. He began what he calls "an impromptu service. We were doing familiar hymns...reading Scripture. At two minutes to ten [a.m.] the lights went out. We felt the bam-bam-bam of the south tower falling. We felt we were going to die. The [stained glass] windows were breaking. People got under the pews. [We were] forced to our knees." Meanwhile, he recalls, one of his closest co-workers remained at an office window in the building next door and "watched all those people jump, and after the building collapsed she fell on the floor...and [assumed] a fetal position."

That day, Hoke was involved in helping to save the lives of 80 of the 150 children who had arrived at the church's school. For weeks, months, and years thereafter, he used the wisdom gained from his own near-death experience to help him minister to those who came seeking solace, guidance, meaning. "I confronted my mortality, and it woke me up," he says. "My mortality was staring me in the face." Unable to continue on as before, he decided to leave his wife of 38 years. And he decided to dig in and dedicate himself to the faithful of St. Paul's and Trinity. "I'm here and I'm here for the long run. Fifty to sixty percent in our organization have departed since nine-eleven."

What's more, he says, "I've had a really virulent episode with cancer. We've had lots of [cases of] cancer, [possibly due to] the toxicity of the air, the benzine, the asbestos, the sheetrock and what have you. The stress of trying to run this ministry day and night -- I think it took its toll. I still tear up. I still jump at loud sounds. But I've had really good therapy and really good spiritual direction."

In one of his sermons, Hoke would remember: "Standing before that crowd of terrorized men and women [on September 11], I racked my brain for words and music that might provide us with some kind of assurance.... Something gutsy. Reassurance wouldn't cut it. Platitudes and piety were for naught at that point. We had no idea what was happening, or who was attacking, or why the sky was falling, or when the bell was going to toll for ourselves. All we knew is that we were engaged in some kind of monstrously destructive battle.

"I chose a number of prayers from the Book of Common Prayer. I used those hymns that seemed to speak to us in our plight -- hymns like "O God Our Help in Ages Past," whose first verse contains, of all words: "Our Shelter from the stormy blast." We sang "Rock of Ages," "My Faith Looks Up to Thee," "Onward Christian Soldiers." I almost committed a major musical faux pas when I announced that one hymn was to be "Nearer My God to Thee." When it dawned on me that such was the hymn that allegedly accompanied the last moments on the Titanic, I quickly changed it."

Most would agree that it wasn't a day for forgiveness or even-handedness in any way, shape or form. But Hoke preached peace from up on the altar. And his words, in that place, at that moment, showed a stunning suppleness of spirit and a deep well of love and humanity that is, even now, rather remarkable. "We were reading verses from the fifth chapter of Saint Matthew's Gospel," he recalls, "as we prepared ourselves to surrender the gift of our lives. You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy,' but I say to you, 'Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.' You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, 'Do not resist one who is evil. If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.'"