Monday, September 07, 2026

Notes from my Knapsack 9-10-2026

Notes from my Knapsack 9-10-2026
Jeff Gill

Anticipation, the unexpected, and new understandings
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With the 25th commemoration of the 9-11 attack on the United States on Friday, we look back at the day, and the times in 2001.

I do remember much of that summer; I was directing church camp sessions, driving across Ohio, listening to radio discussions about the disappearance of Chandra Levy in Washington, shark attacks off the Florida coast, Art Bell was back on late night talking about crop circles and EVPs (don’t ask).

The morning before 9-11, Monday Sept. 10, I recall a fellow on the Today Show talking about cheap bookings and how to pack for travel, and said to my wife “the world must be fine if this is all they have to talk about.” Don’t take morning show programming as a measure of global health.

Now we all notice with a chill, not with delight, when a fall morning dawns cloudless and blue. It brings that morning back, and the confusion that came with it, some of which is still with us. A substantial chunk of the Islamic world hated us, which should not have been news, but was to many. Sayyid Qutb had been dead thirty-five years, executed by his own country, but his writings against modernism and secularism had only grown in popularity across the Islamic world since his death.

A social media feed which has been around a while has become rather interesting this year, with the header “25YearsAgoLive” now keyed to 2001. You get a sense of both our obliviousness, and the hints that were coming, about Islamic terrorism and the precedents of the USS Cole bombing and the World Trade Center attack in 1993, all which could have given us more of an awareness something was coming.

And it all makes me think about what we know, easily and readily can know today, that will look in another 25 years like another case of “how could they not see that coming?” It’s all too like reading historical documents about an obviously well-read and humane doctor, who applies leeches or refuses hand washing before investigating wounds. He didn’t know what he didn’t know, even if in retrospect it was knowable.

Another thing social media is teaching us effectively is that adding more information to our awareness is not the same as being smarter, not how we can end up making better decisions. There’s a reason wisdom and knowledge are traditionally considered very different things. We know so much stuff now, but I can’t think of anyone who would be willing to declare that in 2026 we are all that much wiser.

It would be nice, though, to feel wiser about the world. Not a defiant, assertive, over-confident, smarter than thou sort of tone, but to rest calmly in clarity if not certainty. To be able to look at who is standing where and with whom, and anticipate what our interests require as a nation.

I’ll be honest. I don’t think we’re wiser as a country right now. And I worry the next attack will, like 9-11, again catch us off-guard. We are more aware that there are people out there who don’t like us, but as much because we’ve given them more reasons to be angry and resentful.

It may be that wisdom is for individuals, and rarely for nations. But if any nation can be wise, I’d like it to be ours. I think it possible, but we’ve got a ways to go. That’s what this 9-11 has me thinking about.


Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he’s not worried about shark attacks, anyhow. Tell him how you seek wisdom at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on X.

Faith Works 9-11-2026

Faith Works 9-11-2026
Jeff Gill

A lasting search for light, and hope, and faith
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By the time I got to a television on Sept. 11, 2001, the Pentagon had been hit by Flight 77, the South Tower of the World Trade Center had fallen, and Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania.

I had been in a long meeting in downtown Newark from 7:00 am, but thinking on my way there just how beautiful the morning looked. The first deaths took place at the hands of hijackers shortly after 8:19 am, but it was the impact of the first jet over Manhattan’s streets at 8:46 am which became marked as the beginning of what we now just call “9-11.”

By 10:00 am in a crowd of Denison students at Slayter center, we watched a number of televisions all displaying the same station, the same clips of the impacts of Flights 11 and 175 in New York, the distant plume across the Potomac from Washington, D.C.

The collapse of the South Tower was suspected, but it happened so quickly, and with so much smoke and dust hurled into the air, even the network anchors weren’t certain. At 10:28 am we all saw it, all too clearly, as the North Tower fell. The crowded room grew silent for a few moments, then the buzz of quiet discussion grew.

We’ve been talking about that day for twenty-five years now. Even for those of us without personal connections to lower Manhattan, to the dead on the flights, at the Pentagon, there’s a visceral reaction if you were alive and aware that day in 2001 every time we’ve had a crisp, clear morning with starkly blue skies, cloudless and deep. It’s not the same feeling we had before 9-11. It left a mark, a wound of sorts.

Now a quarter-century later, many of us have been to the Ground Zero Memorial, even to Shanksville, Pennsylvania. We’ve watched documentaries and films, heard the last voicemails referenced in “Love, Actually,” seen the impress of 9-11 on our national awareness. Of the world, of Afghanistan and Iraq, Islamic terrorism, and now in Iran and Yemen and Gaza.

We have scar tissue. It is an unimaginable event that’s now part of our everyday consciousness, and of a sort that threatens to overcome our best impulses, our hopes for the future, even our faith in divine benevolence. Yet another case of “if a loving God could…why not stop…” even if the list was long already.

How do we as people of faith deal with incomprehensible evil? We can reason our way into it, contextualize the circumstances, even psychoanalyze the cold-blooded killers who knifed flight attendants and pilots even more brutally than the execution of the passengers who died with them in four horrible crashes. It doesn’t help much, but we do it. Trying to make sense of things.

John 16:33 gives us a window out, or forward, but knowing “in this world you will have trouble” is little comfort, even twenty-five years on. Small children who lost parents that day now have children of their own, and they have to figure out how to tell the story.

There are geopolitical and partisan politics all engaged by the events started in motion by 9-11, and that day’s events are still used to justify today all sorts of agendas, self-serving and otherwise. Where people with a religious belief have to start is in the middle of the tragedy of that day. We ask why our free will is such that anyone can choose such an evil, and how good can come out of those results.

In a short setting, I can only report my return again and again to the opening of John’s Gospel, and his assertion “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Some translations say “has not overwhelmed it” and others choose “has not put it out.”

But the light still shines. I stand in that light, even today.


Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he’s got memories still unsorted. Tell him your recall of that day at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on X.


https://millercenter.org/remembering-september-11/september-11-terrorist-attacks