You know – FAANG.  Facebook, Amazon, Apple, Netflix, Google!  What’s the next big FAANG, and why should you care?

I wonder if they gathered in the local Brau Haus pondering what would follow Gutenberg’s printing press?  Henry Ford’s move from hand crafted to line produced was a game changer.  Ever think about what will take the place of Al Gore’s invention of the internet?  Steve Jobs and Bill Gates initially helped to automate tasks that might have taken hours or days down to minutes.  The blessings and curses seemed discernable regarding mass production, easy accessibility of goods, accelerated forms of communications and quality of life.  Automation and speed were the name of the game.

I was excited to find I would be required to learn FORTRAN computer programming when attending Gettysburg College, a strong liberal arts college (we also were required to swim).  We ran data on stacks of punch cards to generate results from research.  That beast of a machine automated the data I compiled and fed to it.   I still needed to interpret what the results meant.  Just a few years before 2001: A Space Odyssey was all the rage in the movies.  This 1968 film tells a different story.  HAL (aka IBM) starts calling the shots with astronaut Dave.  HAL was not simply a machine for automation, HAL was autonomous.  Truth be told, I did try to talk to the computer at school but never got a response.

Then there is Joshua, the computer Matthew Broderick, David, used to play War Games in the 1983 film.  Ultimately nobody won and Joshua invited David to a “nice game of chess.”  Joshua, like HAL, was not simply a machine going through its paces.  Joshua, C-P30 and R2-D2 make us feel somewhat comfortable with autonomous machines.  They’re cute in their own way.  (HAL is definitely not warm and fuzzy.)

What’s the next big FAANG?  Boston Dynamics would tell you drones are yesterday’s technology.  They are building “thinking” robots with names like Spot and Sand Flea.  They are leaps above the Jetson’s Rosie the Robot.  While Lyft drivers still get lost even using Waze, smart cars will be perfected and automate driving at some point.  Will a line be crossed for you when you get into the car and the car decides where you are going to go rather than you making the call?

Artificial intelligence (AI), autonomy, goes far beyond automation.  We all want help with our schedules.  We want more time.  Imagine everything you could get done in the passenger seat if the car was in charge of the driving and knows how you like your coffee.  The United States is in a race with other super powers to make lethal action a matter of AI decision making.  Should Siri or Alexa be deciding how nations relate to one another?  (Honestly, Alexa doesn’t always get my music right.)  Currently the U.S. requires at least one human intervention before potentially lethal action is taken by any war machine.  That isn’t true for every nation.  Will human intervention always be true for the U.S.? The next really big FAANGs are not headed to your kitchen and not hitting the road.  AI will begin “deciding” acceptable numbers of human casualties unless we take a deep breath and consider what that means.

We are facing issues requiring ethical thought and socially responsible consideration.  Who decides?  I think Dave would caution us and Joshua would tell us to play chess.  How does our faith inform our thinking?  How do your beliefs inform your thinking?  I don’t have the answers, and I’m not asking Siri.  I do know I’ll continue to ask the questions and look carefully for the next big FAANG.  I hope you’ll join me.

On 9/10/2017 I attended evening Jazz Vespers at Saint Peter’s.  During the service, each worshipper was invited to pray individually with one of the worship leaders.  I prayed with my pastor at the baptistery where 16 years earlier countless people, fearful and stunned, washed the soot from their faces and sat together in the presence of God.  He prayed with me and for me.  The anointing oil he placed on my forehead released tears from my eyes.  They dropped on my jacket and his vestments as if God was cleansing me from the pain I was feeling.  When the amen ended the prayer, he embraced me, an embrace that said, “I know.  I feel it too.”  My tears then mingled in the same baptismal waters that comforted on 9/11/2001.

Hearing the names of victims who died on 9/11 during this 16^th anniversary observance I feel a skin crawling chill when hearing the name of someone I knew personally or feel like I knew all my life through the remembrances of family, friends and colleagues. I want to know them all.  I wish I had.  Voices of readers crack.  Faces seek composure.  Pictures are held.  Buttons are worn.  They pay tribute to family members they knew or have come to know as I have. The tears are raw and real.  For some the tears are ever present.  For others, they flow annually during these 102 minutes.

The tears of today didn’t begin on 9/11/2001.  For many there was travel through stages of grief before ever getting to tears.  Today is a reminder the journey is not over.  Very quickly after 9/11 some wanted to bypass the tears and move on.  There was a call to shut the interfaith respite outreach ministry at St. Paul’s Chapel in March 2002 as if the response had ended and it was time to move on.  Time to get Easter finery ready and take down banners of thanks to recovery workers hung in the sanctuary and bicycles locked to street sign poles abandoned by messengers who never returned from their rounds at the towers.  Thankfully the haunting blank stares of recovery workers coming off the pile with their expressions of craving comfort and assurance were heard over the few calls to “get over it.”  These workers had not begun to cry – not even close.

There was false hope it would be time for the tears to stop after the 5^th anniversary, then 10^th, then 15^th. Is it over for more than 1,000 families who have received no remains to bury?  There are no identified remains for 40% of World Trade Center (WTC) victims. I shared this horrific fact with someone the other day and the person was shocked and had no idea.  When will the tears stop for thousands of 9/11 responders and survivors who have at least one illness from 9/11 or for over 6,500 who have at least one certified WTC-related cancer?  It is estimated in just a few years the WTC death toll could more than double since 2001.

Some are old tears, some new.  There is a time to cry.  Today is one of them. It is also a day to pray for families of all 9/11 victims – to be present and catch their tears.  It is a day to say thank you to all who responded and continue to respond in this long-term recovery.  It is a day for our tears to bring us to action in supporting victims of hurricanes, earthquakes, fires and injustice and those responding to their needs.  I pray we remember that just as there is a time for tears, there is a time to build up, a time to heal and a time for peace.

John J. Scibilia, CCA

(2001-2006 Executive Director of Lutheran Disaster Response of New York at Ground Zero)

As part of our pursuit of all things New York, Carol and I recently experienced the thrill and excitement of professional hockey.  Our seats were not the best.  We were well out of range of the Kiss Cam.  We had to look down to see the championship banners.  I wanted to shout “Hey, Zebras!  What game are you watching?” but was not sure that made sense from section 209, row 22.

We saw our friends John and Jill Scibilia on the Jumbotron reading the fans’ code of conduct.  I believe the Islanders asked John to do this because he is a fan who needs to be reminded of the fans’ code of conduct.

Hockey is not a big sport in Georgia, so my knowledge is not extensive.  The Islanders’ mascot, an underpaid person in a colossal blue and orange head, is, for reasons I do not understand, Sparky the Dragon.  I also do not understand offsides or icing—which seem to comprise about 2/3 of the referees’ calls.

Hockey has better nicknames than other sports.  Islanders opponents include Blues, Blue Jackets, Blackhawks, Red Wings, Ducks, Devils, Penguins, Maple Leafs (shouldn’t it be leaves?) and Predators (actually “Predators” seems like an unfortunate choice).

Hockey is a little like soccer on skates and a little like human pinball. There were beautiful moments when a skater would turn, spin, and glide majestically across the ice.  Those moments often ended with a huge person knocking the graceful skater into a wall.  Michele Kwan, meet John Cena.  Dentists must love hockey.

I tried to sing along with the tribute to the New York Rangers, “If you know the Rangers suck, clap your hands.”  I offered to buy Carol tickets for Mother’s Day, but she wants to consider other possibilities.

This leads to the perfunctory theological insight that closes church e-news columns.  (I admit this is a stretch and if you only read this column because you love hockey stop now.  You do not need to check this—which may be the worst hockey pun in this column.)  The deep, profound insight is: “We don’t have to stay with what we’ve always known.”  Hockey is now my favorite sport on ice.  (Curling is also a cool sport).

We are tempted to decide what we will do by its proximity to what we have already done.  Maturity is learning that “haven’t been there” doesn’t need to mean “won’t go there.”  There are chess fans who would love hockey if they gave it a chance.  If today is just like yesterday, it may be because we are not seeing the possibilities.

There are events of great importance that we mark in our memories by remembering where we were when we witnessed the event in person or by word of mouth.  My mom and dad used to talk about where they were when unlikely hero Bobby Thompson hit a home run against cross town rivals Brooklyn Dodgers giving the New York Giants the pennant.  Mom was a Dodger fan and dad a Giants fan.  The conversation was animated ‘til the day they died.  I can remember hearing President Kennedy was shot from Mrs. Hashagen, my third grade teacher.  We were dismissed early that day for fear it was the beginning of a Cold War attack.  Despite watching every space launch, I was camping in a field when Neil Armstrong took his small step and giant leap.  Those were days of camping without electricity and mobile phones and I didn’t get to actually see it for another week.

Where were you on September 11, 2001?  The towers?  Downtown?  New York City?  Another state or country?  Wherever you were, I’m guessing you remember with the same crystal clear memory as the sky was a cloudless crystal blue that day.  Each of us has a story to tell.  The stories all have value wherever you may have been.  For those who had physical or highly emotional connections, these stories were painful to tell and painful to hear.  I must have lived 9/11 vicariously through other people hundreds of times for five years in my role in the immediate response and long term recovery at Ground Zero.  The stories are still told today among strangers in the subway and family at gatherings.  Stories of tragedy and heroism; fear and bravery; isolation and community; hatred and love.  I would also ask them, “Where are you now?”

“Where are you now?” is a question just as meaningful as “where were you fifteen years ago?”  What’s been your journey since that Tuesday?  There is a visual from 9/11 that best describes where I am now.  Churches throughout the City opened their doors as places of refuge and prayer.  One of those churches at the base of a high profile building (and potential target), has a large baptistery as you enter the sanctuary.  Hundreds of people came in who were walking away from the collapsed buildings.  They were frightened, in a panic and covered in dust and ash.  They stopped at the baptistery and washed their hands and faces in the waters.  I was reminded of this when a Plymouth member told me his story and his stop at that baptistery.  It is at the baptismal font where I find myself today.  Bathed in the cleansing and healing waters of baptism and the grace of God poured out in those waters.  Where are you now?  All are welcome.

John