Remembering 9/11
In response to an assignment from her AP US History teacher, my youngest daughter spent this past weekend interviewing her mother and me about our memories of September 11, 2001.
In 2001, we lived in a western exurb of Seattle, Washington, where I worked at an internet start-up. My daily commute consisted of an hour-long bike ride followed by a 35-minute ferry journey—ample time to listen to NPR each morning. I vividly recall the intersection where I stood - bike gloves on hands, frantically adjusting the dials on my AM/FM radio - when I first heard about the attacks on the Twin Towers. The next 12 miles were ridden in sheer disbelief as I pondered the magnitude of what these events would mean for our world. Although I had never been to New York at that point in my life, I felt a sense of collective heartbreak for the unfolding tragedy, even from the opposite coast.
Like many Americans not from the Northeast, it wasn't until I moved to New York that I began to grasp the profound impact of the terrorist attacks on 9/11. In my early years in NYC, everyone I met had a 9/11 story. Though told as personal tragedies, these narratives collectively conveyed the trauma that the day's events had inflicted on those who lived in and around the city.
One such deeply affecting account came from the life and ministry of the late Rev. Dr. Mitties Dechamplain, Trinity Church Professor of Preaching (1998-2016) at GTS.
Mother Mitties (as she was known by her students and colleagues) distinguished herself in ways that extended beyond the Close. In the aftermath of the tragic events of September 11, 2001, she volunteered as a chaplain at the Temporary Mortuary at Ground Zero in Manhattan. Her ministry there involved not just the spiritual but also the corporeal; she blessed human remains as they were recovered, providing a sacred finality for those who had perished. Her compassionate presence also offered solace to the tireless recovery workers and law enforcement personnel who navigated the immense emotional and physical toll of their duties. Her service at Ground Zero became an indelible part of her legacy, drawing profound respect from those who knew her and placing her among a select group of chaplains who have since passed away but whose ministry at Ground Zero leaves an enduring impact.
Regrettably, I only had the opportunity to meet Mother Mittes a few times. I joined the community at General in 2016, after the tumultuous and difficult events of 2014, and I knew her only in passing. Even so, in those brief encounters, the sincerity and passion emanating from her were palpable.
Upon her death in 2018, Mother Mitties bequeathed to the seminary a simple cross. To honor her legacy and ensure that her witness endures among future generations, the cross has been placed directly above the Register of Services in the sacristy. Now, as generations of future students, preachers, officiants, and celebrants record their services in the Chapel of the Good Shepherd, they do so in the presence of a token that for many—including myself—stands as an everlasting link to the city she loved and the selfless ministry she offered in the aftermath of 9/11.
Dean Michael
