You know exactly where you were on September 11, 2001.
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The memory is vividâthe room you were in, the screen you watched, the silence that fell. It's melded into your consciousness, as clear today as it was 25 years ago.
So this weekend, you're planning to honor the anniversary. Maybe a video package. A moment of silence. Perhaps you'll invite the congregation to "remember where we were that day."
Then you look around your staff meeting.
Half the room nods with recognition, eyes reflecting that shared weight.
The other half? They were in diapers. Or not born yet.
You just asked them to lead with a memory they don't have.
If you're leading a church with a sizable staff in 2024, you're not leading one teamâyou're shepherding two different rooms in one staff meeting. And on significant anniversary weekends like this, that generational divide becomes uncomfortably visible.
This isn't about patriotism or politics. This is about leading a mixed-memory staff without forcing fake grief or forgetting the ones who still carry real trauma.
Twenty-five years after 9/11, your team is probably split down the middle.
Some were in middle school, college, or their first job. They remember the room going silent. They remember the fear, the confusion, the before-and-after feeling that marked an entire generation.
Others know that Tuesday from textbooks and YouTube footageânot from living it. They've seen the replays, learned the history, understand the significance. But they didn't experience the collective national trauma in real time.
Same church. Same staff meeting. Same mission.
Two completely different relationships to the anniversary you're about to commemorate.
And here's what makes this tricky: when you plan anniversary Sundays using templates that assume shared memory, you unintentionally miss both groups.
The staff members who lived through 9/11 get treated like a production asset.
"Can you share a memory in the service?"
Nobody asks what they need this week to process their own griefâonly what they can give from the stage. Their trauma becomes content. Their remembrance becomes a resource to mine for Sunday's impact.
Meanwhile, the staff members who didn't live through it get asked to perform.
They're handed scripts with "we remember" language. They're expected to stand in a silence they never earned from experience. They feel fake if they lean in. They feel cold if they don't.
You didn't mean either outcome. But the one-size-fits-all template created both.
Proverbs 15:22 - "Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed."
Application: When planning significant moments, we need input from multiple perspectivesâincluding those who experienced the event and those who didn't.
Let me be clear: your motives were good.
You weren't trying to stage trauma or manufacture emotion. You wanted reverence. You wanted your church to mark 25 years with dignity and respect. That's pastoral. That's right.
Keep that motive.
But lose the assumption that shared language equals shared memory.
Honor is not a video package that asks half your team to invent a lived past they never had. Honor is telling the truth about who remembersâand who is learning to remember well.
This distinction matters because it changes everything about how you plan the weekend and how you care for your team leading up to it.
Here's the pivot: I'm not saying skip the anniversary. I'm not saying younger staff don't careâthey absolutely do.
What I am saying is this: lead this weekend like a shepherd of a mixed-memory staff, not like a nostalgia producer.
Nostalgia producers assume one room, one story, one script. They build experiences around shared collective memory and expect everyone to participate the same way.
Shepherds ask different questions. They want to know who is actually in the roomâand what each person needs before Sunday asks something of them.
The staff members who still carry the weight of 9/11 need care before they need a microphone.
The staff members who only know it as history need permission to lead with respectâwithout pretending they stood in that silence.
James 1:19 - "Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry."
Application: Before we script the weekend, we need to listen to our teamâboth those who remember and those who don't.
So how do you actually do this? Not with another templateâwith two honest questions.
This week, before the anniversary weekend, get your staff in a real room. Not a text thread. Not an email chain. A real room where you can see faces and hear voices.
Ask two questions out loud:
Question 1: "Who among us lived that day as an adult or teenâand what do you need from us this week?"
Question 2: "Who among us only knows it as historyâand how do we lead this weekend with respect without faking a memory we don't have?"
Thenâand this is crucialâplan the weekend from those answers.
Maybe the moment of silence stays, but the "we all remember" language goes.
Maybe a staff member who lived through 9/11 wants to speakâor maybe they'd rather sit in the back and process privately.
Maybe your younger staff members frame the day for kids and teens who have zero category for this event, offering historical context that helps the next generation understand.
Same reverence. Different honesty.
Here's what I need you to hear: when anniversary Sundays assume shared memory, your staff learns something.
They learn that grief is content.
They learn that lack of memory is a problem to hide.
They learn that performance beats truth.
That's not pastoral leadership. That's production dressed up in remembrance language.
Churches that truly love their people mark hard anniversaries with three things:
This same dynamic will play out again. In about 20 years, we'll be commemorating COVID-19, and you'll have staff members who were toddlers during the pandemic. They won't remember the fear, the isolation, the grief of 2020. And if you're still in ministry then, you'll need to remember this lesson all over again.
Nehemiah 8:8 - "They read from the Book of the Law of God, making it clear and giving the meaning so that the people understood what was being read."
Application: Like Nehemiah's team, we must provide context and ensure understandingânot just assume everyone shares the same reference point.
Lead the 25th anniversary of 9/11 like a shepherd of a mixed-memory staffânot like a nostalgia producer who assumes everyone remembers that Tuesday the same way.
You're not a bad leader for wanting a reverent Sunday. But you'll be a better leader when you stop asking half your team to perform a memory they don't haveâand stop treating the other half like a clip for the video package.
The people in your staff meeting are going to approach this anniversary from very different perspectives. Not politically. Not ideologically. Just generationallyâbased on what they remember, what they don't remember, and how it hits them personally.
It's an emotional day for many people. So shepherd well. Ask honest questions. Plan from real answers. And create space for both remembrance and learning.
How is your church approaching significant anniversaries with a multigenerational staff? What have you learned about leading team members who don't share your memories of major events?
Send your thoughts, questions, or stories to podcast@chemistrystaffing.com. We read every email, and your insight might help another church leader navigate these important moments with greater wisdom and care.
This post is based on Episode 700 of the Healthy Church Staff Podcast. For more practical leadership content for church staff, subscribe wherever you listen to podcasts.