Minnegeddon — New York City and the “Babylon” of Revelation 18 M4B*

 

Though born in Chicago, I grew up in Fairfield Connecticut, not far from New York City.  My parents were transplants from South Dakota, so, of course, everything about NYC was exciting to them.  Once we had settled in from the transfer from the Midwest (my father was a metallurgical engineer) we started taking day trips to New York.  One of my fondest memories is of going out to the Statue of Liberty on a foggy morning, watching the astoundingly beautiful monument emerge from the fog as we drew close to it, the golden flame in contrast to the gray drizzle. As I grew older, of course, I wanted to live there.  Who wouldn’t?  Fairfield was tiny, the area had nothing but a charming “seashore” (the Long Island Sound) strewn with seaweed and mussels.  I also sensed that New York City had a darkness, a mystery of sorts, that intrigued and puzzled me.

In early September 2001 I was giving flute lessons at a school for home-schooled students one day a week.  It was across the river from us, in the St. Paul, MN area.  As the school year had just started, there were new instructors.  One of them had a fairly simple last name, but I was unable to remember it correctly.  For some odd reason, I kept calling her Ms. “Huffman”.  I was puzzled, to say the least. Usually, I either remembered a person’s name exactly and forever, or not at all.  This was a bit different.

Every evening I read a chapter of the Bible before bed.  Sometimes there seems to be an inclination to focus on one chapter.  At that time, it was Revelation 18.  As I read through the terrifying prophecy of a city that would be sunk beneath the sea I wondered what it would feel like to see people covered in ashes, and asked myself what sort of disaster would take place in ‘just one hour’.  I tried to imagine how those with ships would stand far off and look at the smoke of this city’s burning.

On September 11 2001 I was sipping coffee, watching CNN, preparing for the day, when the news came in of a plane hitting one of the World Tower buildings.  It must have been a small plane, off its course, I remember thinking.  I don’t recall if anything to that effect was said by a newscaster. Then they showed footage of a gaping hole with smoke pouring out one side of the building.  I recalled for a moment something I had read about their construction long ago, when they were built.  The Twin Towers had ‘load-bearing walls’. One of those had been severely breached.  Below, the first responders seemed stunned and somehow terrified.  Although everyone was hoping for the best, the portents were there.

As news of the Pentagon hit came on the air I decided to still leave (I do not know why) for a dermatologist appointment not far away — it the city of Chanhassen, which is home, ironically, to a large golden pyramid-shaped temple connected to a group called Eckankar.  That temple had always given me an eery feeling; even more so that day.  When I went inside the doctor’s waiting room there was total silence — no TV, no radio.  I felt that I was in a time warp; but at least I was able to take a deep breath for a few moments.  After the routine appointment I went out to my car and turned on the radio and started up the car for the drive back home.  Stations were jumbled on top of each other.  The news seemed almost incomprehensible — both WTC towers had fallen, and a fourth plane had crashed into a field in Pennsylvania; ironically, not far from where I had once gone to school. I was unable to process all the new information, and began to become lightheaded.  I was on side roads by this time and drove carefully, ready to pull over if necessary.

When I returned home, of course, my husband confirmed my worst fears, and the news channels carried nothing else but this disaster.  Our borders had been breached for the first time since Pearl Harbor by, we were quickly told, a group of fanatics.  Two of them had trained at a place called “Huffman Aviation” in Florida.  When I heard that, I began to shake. I went back to Revelation 18.  The entire area near the WTC towers was covered in dust, and everyone looked like mummies.  The cameras panned on lower Manhattan from CNN in New Jersey, showing at a distance the smoke of its burning.   Every one of us watched, helplessly.  And for some reason I even now do not understand, I began to praise Gd — not for the attacks, but for preparing me to see that no matter what happened, His hand was also there in the darkness.  I think He held the buildings up as long as possible to get as many people as possible out.  I wondered if this tragedy would bring the city of New York to its knees in true repentance.

That was not to be — instead, they have rebuilt.

So could 9/11 have been a heads-up?  How about, also, Hurricane Sandy, which actually changed direction and headed directly toward New York City, creating terrible calamity?  Over 300 students at Fairfield University became homeless as a result of its assault on just that small section of the shoreline of the Long Island Sound.

New York City still stands.  But for how long?  Will it become true in reality at some point that “the sound of …flutists…shall not be heard in you anymore?”  Rev. 18:22(a)

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

 

 

 

 

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Minnegeddon, Revelation 18 and 9/11– odd coincidences?4B= :-0 M4B*

I recently came across an article about a devastating sandstorm taking place in Jerusalem this September: http://www.timesofisrael.com/sandstorm-plaguing-israel-is-worst-in-countrys-history/

Immediately, the aftermath of the collapse of the Twin Towers came to mind, as here, as at that time, everyone was covered with dust, so to speak.  That image brought back to me the anguish I experienced as I watched the events of Sept. 11, 2001 unfold.

For a few weeks prior to 9.11.2001 I felt a strong conviction to read and meditate on Revelation 18 in my daily Bible study.  Rev.18 describes the horror of the destruction of the worldly Babylon (it is my thinking at this time that Rev.17, “Mystery Babylon”, may refer to a religious, as opposed to an economic and political system, and therefore a different place, so is not necessarily a part of the Rev18 prophecy per se).

At that time I was teaching flute students at a private school.  As the school year began, and I was introduced to the new teachers, I continually unintentionally tripped up on one woman’s last name — instead of her actual name, I kept calling her “Mrs. Huffman”.  At the time I was puzzled, as I usually either remember a name correctly or completely forget it. As it later turned out, some of the hijackers were trained at a Florida company called “Huffman Aviation.”

My husband and I were at home on the morning of 9/11,  I was watching CNN when the report came in that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  That did not, in itself, seem overly troubling, as these were tall buildings, built to withstand even that sort of impact.  As I had always been fascinated by the WTC and had researched their construction, I realized that the WTC had utilized an unusual architecture concept — load-bearing walls, as opposed to the typical construction that put pillars throughout the building.  That meant the elevators were all in the center of the building.  If the center of the building was blocked there would be no way for those on the floors involved in the crash, or those in the floors above, to be evacuated to safety.

It wasn’t until CNN began to zoom in on the gash in the exterior itself that the imperiling seriousness of the event began to sink in.  I was somewhat aware that it was, in effect, the walls that were holding the building up.  As the cameras panned to the first responders, it was quickly evident that there was much more going on here than we had been told, and that they were sensing the total terror that was starting to unfold.

My husband and I are both from New York — he grew up around the corner from the Guggenheim Museum; I was originally from Fairfield, CT, and lived in Manhattan for four years.  New York was and is our home, and the WTC towers, garish and oversized though they might have seemed early-on, had become to us part of the beauty of the city. Whenever I looked downtown while walking, I always looked for them.  They were part of the fabric of our lives when we were there.

In hindsight, I was somewhat foolish to leave for a dermatologist appointment not long after the second plane hit and at about the time the Pentagon was hit.  I drove a few miles away and entered into a completely silent zone where there was no radio or tv and noone was even talking about these events.  When I emerged, about an hour later, I turned on my car radio to hear the rest of the horrible news.  In fact, the reception was such that there seemed to be people from two different stations chattering at once.  It was almost too much to comprehend.  I just sat and listened to the descriptions of the WTC towers collapsing, the Pentagon in flames, and, strangely, a fourth plane down in the hills of Pennsylvania.  It seemed almost inevitable at the time that the US would have no choice but to go to war to avenge these events, as we had after Pearl Harbor, and that nothing might ever seem the same.

When I returned home I again followed the news coverage, and was stunned by the footage showing many of the people who had tragically jumped from WTC1, as well as the streets of the area with everyone and everything covered in the dust and debris of the collapsed buildings.  Then I watched footage taken from New Jersey, showing all of lower Manhattan — the smoke of the devastation billowing high into the sky.  It was at that time that I recalled the prophecies of Rev18, and heard for the first time of “Huffman Aviation”.  I sat, stunned, and wept.  How could this happen?  What did this mean?  Were these events connected to the End Times? And, if so, how?  I wanted to understand.

And I played the flute.  That always helps.  That is how I pray. It began to seem that, even as unimaginably terrible as these events were, they could have been even worse.  Did Gd stay His hand and, for some divine reason, keep the buildings standing as long as He could? Was this a warning to our generation to humble ourselves as a nation and repent? Are we being allowed every opportunity to do this?  But are we repenting, I began to wonder, or, as Rabbi Cahn demonstrates convincingly in “The Harbinger”, rebuilding in arrogance instead? What will happen if we do not repent?

As far as additional odd coincidences are concerned, let me share — AA11 and UA175 left from Logan Airport, Boston.  My husband went to school in Boston; I lived in Brookline for two years. AA77 left from Dulles Airport, Washington, D.C. My sibling was living there.  UA93 left from Newark Airport, NJ.  My Mother was living in Flemington, NJ.  UA93 crashed in Western Pennsylvania, not far from where I went to university at Bucknell University in Lewisburg.  It was bound for San Francisco, where I lived for two years. Did these odd coincidences have any significance at all? I didn’t know.

After days of prayer, I began to ask myself if Gd was telling us that we, and the extraordinary gift of die zauberflote, in some way, may have some sort of connection to these events. If there is, what could it possibly be?  Is there something we are being called to do as a result? Does this have anything to do with all the events that are unfolding at this time in Minnesota that I call “Minnegeddon”? At this point, I don’t know.  I humbly ask for your prayers for Gd’s guidance as we move forward at this complicated time…

*M4B=Mozart for Believers…

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