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As I watched the images of the towers—and
the world as we knew it—come crashing down last year, I called my
kids to watch it with me. They did so in silence, sensing, I think,
how monumental this act of war was. Perhaps it was the wrong
decision, but I wanted to make sure they remembered September 11.
Yet the horror that was so stark on
that first day was soon overshadowed by the stories of heroism.
Firemen walked up the stairs to their deaths, passing others
streaming down. Two stockbrokers carried their co-worker in her
wheelchair down 90 flights of stairs. Todd Beamer recited the Lord’s
Prayer right before he rallied his co-passengers with "Let’s
Roll!". And a 24-year-old equities trader donning a red
bandanna rushed from floor to floor guiding others, blinded by
smoke, to exits. He, too, was last seen climbing the stairs.
It's those heroes we remember, much
more so than the monsters that perpetrated the evil. I must admit
I've spent precious little time pondering Mohammed Atta, and lots of
time musing about Todd Beamer, Rudy Giuliani, or the men of Ladder
12. The reason they are so memorable, I think, is that they, rather
than the terrorists, embody true humanity.
None of those individuals, though, set
out to be heroes. They wanted to get home to their wives and kids as
much as anyone else did. But they made their choices. They chose
virtue, while the terrorists chose evil. September 11 showed us all
too vividly that evil is real. Yet though evil is most visible in
barbaric acts as these, it rarely just erupts on the scene. On the
contrary, it is cultivated in far smaller acts in our daily lives.
All character, whether good or bad, is
formed by the choices we make in the little things. The stockbrokers
who carried their co-worker down those stairs probably, as children,
would not have dared to ridicule someone on the playing field, would
not have stolen from a store, and would not have cheated on a test.
When they had a chance to choose, they chose right, so that virtue
became a part of who they were.
Good character, you see, is made, not
born. Few kids develop good character by themselves; most need
parents to point them towards that narrow road which, all too
frequently now, is becoming less travelled by. This, too, is done in
a series of small choices as we raise our kids. When we stop our
kids from calling each other names, confront them when they’re
drowning in self-pity, or encourage them to share, we’re
cultivating virtue. Unfortunately, it takes a lot of work! It’s
easier to let things slide, to let the kids have petty fights, to
listen to our teen gossip on the phone or to watch them exclude a
neighbor without intervening. Yet when we do so, we’re teaching
them to disregard others and to focus on themselves. We are
cultivating selfishness, not goodness.
Hard as it is to teach them right, it’s
even harder to model it! It means not griping about our boss, not
cheating on our taxes, even loving and forging our spouse when we’re
ready to tear someone’s head off.
If we have the stamina for this job,
though, the payoff in future generations will be immense. For if our
kids learn to choose right in the little things, then when the big
things come they will also choose right. They will be faithful
spouses. They will be loving, responsible parents. They will be
honest neighbours. They will be caring citizens. They will be saving
others from tears, heartache or hardship as much as those on Flight
93 saved the targeted victims in Washington. For when we cultivate
virtue in our kids, we aren’t just teaching them to be kind; we
are creating our future world.
I, for one, want to live in a world
where people care for each other; where we come to a neighbor’s
aid, provide a shoulder to cry on, or respond to a call for help,
even if it’s communicated only by teary eyes. That world starts
with me, with my kids, and with you and yours. Let’s make the
cultivation of virtue our legacy for September 11. It triumphed on
that day, and if we remain vigilant, it can triumph again.
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