The 35W Bridge, 9/11, and the Hope in Historic Inevitability

Less than a year after the 9/11 destruction of the World Trade Center Adam Nagourney of The NY Times, reporting statements made by city planners, explained that the massive crater left in midtown had created a massive opportunity - unseen in any city since the great Chicago fire of 1906 - for city restructuring and re-growth in a region of Manhattan that had become snarled by day and all-but-vacant by night ("Re-Imagining a Downtown." The New York Times, May 10, 2002).

History, it seems, has struck again. Less than a week after 35W bridge collapse in Minneapolis, the Minneapolis StarTribune newspaper began to report rumblings throughout the Minnesota political infrastructure that the loss of the major Twin Cities thoroughfare had created not only a new and far more affordable route for the University-St.Paul light-rail line, averting a costly addition to the existing Washington Avenue expanse. Sunday's (12 Aug 2007) StarTribune cover stories reported that the bridge collapse provided a long-overdue catalyst to the stalled transportation budget debate of the past 30 years at the Minnesota State Capitol, one creating utter traffic madness on the Crosstown and bridges in even worse condition, such as the one on Hiway 36 crossing over 95, which bears visible rebar, falling concrete, and a rating well-below that of the failed 35W bridge.

While it seems a bit crass for the circling vultures of happy-spin to be turning lemons into lemonade so soon, the 35W and 9/11 after-math prognosticating provide a poignant theological insight to the nature of life, not to mention comfort for all the rest of us who struggle with divorces, death, losses, and all other manner of life's hurt and destruction.

Regardless of where you think suffering, destruction, and loss come from - whether from God, from the devil, from fallen human nature, or from nature and the science that drives it - the inescapable truth of it all is that creation is invariably preceded by destruction. Simultaneously scary and comforting, it is undeniable that that which rends us is always the precursor to our new life, often one unimaginable before the destruction.

It is true in sports (Lance Armstrong won his 7 Tours de France after the hell of testicular cancer and brain surgery), in relationships (divorce hurts, but it so often seems to open up possibilities previously unseen, particularly for the reflective), in politics (consider the situation and suffering of African-Americans during the Civil Rights Movement versus after), and in religion (every major religion has as its Creation story the preceding destruction of something, usually chaos).

The problem is never just the destruction itself - though often formidable - but the way it is framed and the way it is used. For, more often than not, the greater the destruction, the greater the opportunity for new life.

It is far too common in a world of prosperity theology and "secrets" of abundance to see suffering as an aberration, outside the realm of God's intention and humanity's desired existence. We therefore run from the great opportunity that destruction offers. We miss the gems of wisdom she bears.

Yet, a lesson from some of the better-aged philosophies and theological lineages yields the penetrating insight that, in the words of Tacitus, "Wisdom has planted her foundation in the dung heap of life." Destruction and suffering are not only part of the rhythm of life - the yang to happiness's yin - but are, in fact, the undeniable core of life's joy. Within all that hurts is all that gives life.

Therein is the comfort. It is that solitary reminder that provides the sufferer both short-term release and long-term hope. It is the rock-solid assurance that new and unexpected opportunities lay ahead, despite today's pain, that quiets the unrest of the divorcing heart. It is the absolute certainty that peace will come and joy is not over that can quiet a life stripped of a loved one. It is the confidence that new life paths will open up that provides consolation amid the grief of lost bridges and fallen buildings.

Assurance of new life that awaits in no way negates the loss or removes the pain. It simply provides a context and a hope that, with time, grow to overshadow the pain. The guarantee of new creation is the glimmer at the end of the dark tunnel that, with time, becomes the beacon guiding us out of darkness, and eventually...again...the warm radiance of a full sun which brings laughter again, joy again, and new life again.

History assures us that new creation is guaranteed, writ large on the very formula of existence. We need only find the peace to let go of the destruction and that which was, and find the courage to seize the opportunities for what will be.