Between these facing walls, the first marked 9:01, and the second marked 9:03, lies a long, 1" deep reflecting pool representing 9:02. Facing that pool stands The Field of Empty Chairs.
Each chair is engraved with a name.
The smaller chairs represent children.
Dave and I visited the memorial on Tuesday, Aug. 2, though Dave had been before. We took no pictures inside...actually, we didn't get to finish walking through inside due to the museum's closing. The Oklahoma City bombing was the largest, most damaging terrorist attack on US soil before 9/11. 168 people were killed, 19 of them children. McVeigh was angry about government use of violence against the people...his answer was to use his own violence against the people.
C.S. Lewis compares humanity to
a fleet of ships sailing in formation. The voyage will be a success only, in the first place, if the ships do not collide and get in one another's way; and, secondly, if each ship is seaworthy and has her engines in good order...But...however well the fleet sailed, its voyage would be a failure if it were meant to reach New York and actually arrived at Calcutta.
I think McVeigh's ship was internally dry-rotted, but his focus was on where the fleet was heading and how the leaders weren't leading correctly. So he sabotaged his own fleet, set landmines to deliberately sink as many other ships as he could reach...because he thought he could have been a better leader to them. He never expressed remorse for his actions.
I guess I understand. The hatred and violence of a man who feels impotent...the ultimate self-absorption that says "my hopelessness should be felt by all of You, because after all, none of you matter as much as my Cause"...which, ultimately, is nothing more than the Cause for My Insatiable Appetite for Power. So angry, so proud, so calloused. He must have deeply believed he had nothing to offer but his ability to take. It's not unimaginable. It is the tragedy of every unexamined, self-willed life.
I am praying for his soul; and for mine and Dave's; and for all of you. This life is a phenomenal gift...why would such a Giver not give you everything you need to live it well? Why do you rage? Why are you bitter? What do you seek? Ask honestly, expect no grandeur in the truth, accept that it is neither All Up to You nor Out of My Hands.
To my friends reading this, please hear the compassion and love I feel for you. This memorial broke my heart, for you and me as much as for anyone. You are more broken than you suspect, but you are never as lost as you fear.
I'll be back in Dallas on Friday. If I have presumed, you will have the opportunity to forgive me then.
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