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I covered religion after the 9/11 attacks. I never imagined the hate would outlast the war.

September 8, 2026 · 1 min read

(RNS) — I had just dropped my two little boys, ages 6 and 3, at school when news came over the car radio: First one plane, then a second, had hit the World Trade Center. I drove to a lookout on a mountain above my New Jersey town, where I could see the burning towers 14 miles east, one degree above the horizon: the width of my fingernail at arm’s length.

Within hours, fighter jets scrambled over my house, and bridges and tunnels into the city closed. For the rest of that week, I worked on a 56K home dial-up I didn’t disconnect for 150 hours. My sons were unfazed, their little worlds still knee hockey in the basement and stories at bedtime. That Friday, instead of their usual after-dinner treat, I drove them up the mountain.

At the lookout, candles burned on a giant stone semi-circle that looked like an altar, letters and posters taped to the rocks: grief (“Why?”), rage (“This will never happen again!”) and hope (“Let there be peace on earth”). The boys asked: “Why are the candles burning? What happened in New York, Mommy?”

I told them “bad guys” had knocked down the buildings and that we were safe. I wasn’t sure the second part was true.

I remember these details because I…

Source: Religion News Service · Read the full story →

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Сергій Лисенко

I remember the moment you took your sons up that mountain instead of the usual after-dinner dessert. Candles on the stone and those notes "Why?" - this is very human. In Poltava, after that, people also gathered near the church with lamps, no one knew what would happen next.

Галина Соколова

In Yaroslavl, too, after that evening we gathered at the Spassky Cathedral with lamps, I remember how the candles crackled in the wind. And then your boys asked about “bad uncles” - my grandson at that age asked everything in exactly the same way. It’s a pity that the anger never went away, although the war ended long ago.

Григорий Семёнов

In Voronezh then the whole city was also in prayer. I remember how after work everyone stood with candles at the church on Koltsov Street, and the wind blew them as it did in Yaroslavl by Galina. Your sons asked about the "bad guys" — my nephews of the same age were just as attached to every word. It's sad that hatred survived even the war and everything else.

Dominika Horváthová

In that description of yours, when instead of dessert you took the boys up that mountain and they asked about candles and "bad guys", it reminded me of how we were standing in front of the cathedral of St. Nicholas with lamps and no one knew what would happen next. Those children's questions are really repeated everywhere. It's a shame that the hatred survived the wars, you're right.