honking trucks and rolling clothes racks- snoozes quietly half asleep. The wind whirls rustling scraps of paper over the pavement.

Only in a windowless, brightly lit auditorium between Seventh and Eighth Avenues are a few hundred awake, expressive, cheerful people.

Their focus has very little to do with flounces, hems and plunging necklines.

Their focus is, as the small flyer they push into your hand at the door says, "A New Vision for Life."

A few steps lead first into a small foyer. There tables are set up with all sorts of special literature for sale, the regular fare as well as books from more esoteric shelves such as Self Help or New Age: Crisis intervention When Things Fall Apart, Eastern wisdom Tao Te Ching, alternative Religion The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, Personal Improvement How to Get Out of Debt and Stay Out of Debt.

In the main room aluminum folding chairs are lined up filling practically every available space. The public is decidedly eclectic: a carefree mixture of young and old, conservative and progressive, black and white, gay and straight, elderly ladies with wool hats, a family together with a squealing baby, a bodybuilder with a mohawk.

Up on the stage stands Reverend August Gold. The name is deceptive: "Reverend August", as her fans refer to her, is a woman. She is not especially tall, has a short brunette haircut and wears a pants suit. Her lightly made-up face emanates warmth and comfort, but also a certain mischievousness. Not one minute goes by that she does not either laugh out loud or at the very least smile.

"Take charge of your own life!" she declares in the auditorium. "Be the master of your life, not just a victim of circumstances!" A few congregants jump to their feet.

August Gold, 50, is the co-founder and spiritual director of Sacred Center New York, a rapidly expanding, interfaith congregation, which presently sublets a meeting hall for its Sunday's services from a New Age group in the Garment District. Gold, with her contagious joy-of-life personality, previously taught at Unity Church, which is part of the approximately 150-year-old New Thought movement, a philosophically resuscitated and once again very popular faith movement.

Five years ago, Gold had, as she describes it, a divine inspiration with the charge to start her own "church"- or rather a group of like-minded people that could serve as an alternative to the rigid, established religious organizations. And so she did. At that time, on a sunny Sunday morning, a hundred inspired people went to their first service of the new group, which provisionally took place in a yoga center in Soho.

The date that first Sunday was September 9, 2001.

In hindsight, the divine inspiration no longer seems so obtuse. Two days later the world was brought together, and New Yorkers began to search for answers to the meaning of life. Since that time, Sacred Center has exploded from a good dozen brave disciples to more than 300 followers and has had to pull off three emergency moves and soon the current intermediate accommodations in the Garment District will be too small.

The service begins with a jazzy opening song, which has the public clapping and swaying back and forth - a divine "street song" which they sing first thing in the line up every time.

"I release and I let go.

I let the Spirit run my life.

And my heart is open wide.

Yes, I am only here for God."

Thereafter first a list of announcements are read from a piece of paper by a delicate coworker, Reverend Betsy: "The next prosperity workshop begins on Monday... in February Reverend Gold will be offering a crash course on Prayer... the basic of Metaphysics... and the office is looking for volunteers, please sign up in the front foyer."

Afterwards some transcendental chanting, a meditation and a moment of silence, in which only a baby is murmuring.

After a performance of a five-member choir, Gold appears on the stage. On her left ear is an invisible microphone with a thin cable going to the amplifier on her waistband. Her brown eyes sparkle.

As a general rule, church sermons are condescending and lecturing, at the very least have a know-it-all perspective, even if the ministers themselves deliver the sermon with humility. In contrast, Gold's message is a most amusing, enlightening motivational seminar, a compelling ride through the moral and spiritual harshness of life in New York City-a perfect mixture of self-defacing everyday antidotes, Buddhist wisdom, Taoist sayings, biblical teachings, esoteric pop-psychology and corny jokes all perfectly wrapped up in a comprehensive, crystal-clear message of salvation.

It's all good.

Gold talks, declares, laughs, whispers, gestures, paces back and forth, puts her hands on her hips, closes her eyes, her eyes tear up, she throws her head back, breathes heavily, hums loudly, pauses, and makes eye contact. A one-woman show that is as wide as it is deep: she quotes the new testament, Jesus Christ and the Allegory of the Lost Coin, she quotes the Tao Te Ching (her favorite teachings, an ancient Chinese scripture, which has been translated nearly as often as the Bible), a Harvard University sociological study as well as an anonymous acquaintance, "who for 50 years of his life was a minister and now is a sailor."

She relates one of her favorite standard stories about a successful, stressed-out manager. The woman, a vice president of a large corporation, "could not walk down the street, sit in a meeting, live her life" without fear of having a panic attack. Of course, only when she "went within herself" did she find the reason for her anxiety-an experience from her childhood that taught her that life "isn't now and never will be safe."

She talks about typical New York anxiety, the old (wild taxi drivers) and the new (terror attacks on the subway). Everyday life here can be unfair, dangerous and mercilessly materialistic. In order to cope, "other's" methods can be to simply take a pill. And the alternative is: "Life is not against me, it is for me. No matter what happens. In every experience there is embedded a positive lesson, even in terror and horror, illness and sorrow."

A platitude in the ears of atheist cynics. However, Gold's followers hang on her every word. "You go girl" an African American woman calls out.

1989 she had become a minister, thereafter she had taught the teachings of Ernest Holmes, the Science of Mind's New Thought founder, which combines a Christian motif with eastern beliefs and metaphysical basics. She left Unity Church - a congregation of around 2 million worldwide believers; her seminars, which were held every Sunday morning had become too popular and too large and a thorn in the higher-up's eye.

At the end of July, 2001, Gold was sitting in deep mediation at a Buddhist retreat when she suddenly, "like lightening" a bizarre unequivocal thought came through.

"You must open your own church called Sacred Center on September 9, 2001."

"It was definitive and unmistakable. I still remember asking why September 9, 2001? Why so specifically then?"

Gold sits in a beige-colored armchair in Sacred Center's lecture room, a large, light-flooded loft on the 7th floor of an office building not far from the congregation's auditorium. Unlike her voice on stage, in private it's warm, gentle, but no less urgent.

The lecture room is, to a large extent, empty apart from a corner with a few folding chairs and an easel with a diagram. No lit candles, no chimes, no New Age hoo-ha. Through the enormous, old windows the roof landscape of the garment district spreads out: fire escapes, chimneys, water towers.

"When I had my vision" recalls Gold, "we only had 6 weeks to September 9, 2001. We had to work like crazy to pull it off." We found a location, a yoga studio on Broadway in SoHo. "Everything somehow came together" and exactly on the determined date Sacred Center opened its doors. A hundred people came, among which were a few tourist who were attracted by our paper sign out on Broadway.

"The thought never entered my head" Gold said. "9/9 - why the hurry?"

Then, two days later, black Tuesday came. 9/11.

"And in an instant it all became clear. We had to be there so that people would have a place to come to experience deeper teachings and the inner meaning of the events."

Gold herself was in East Hampton, Long Island about two hours east of New York by car every Tuesday where she has a house. She was supposed to be in the city but her plans changed at the last moment.

The first thought Gold had was "I want to know what God was saying." She grabbed her prayer book, a small, worn notebook, in which 100 prayers "from all religions and philosophies" are collected" and asked for assistance.

She opened up the book to a prayer from the Indian Jain tradition.

"I forgive all of creation

let all of creation forgive me.

Everyone in the world

Is my friend.

I have no enemies."

On the following Sunday, the Sunday following the attacks, all 125 seats were filled at Sacred Center. In the back people stood 3 rows deep against the wall and even poured out into the foyer. Reeds and bamboo decorated the lobby of the yoga center in which you could hear the faint sound of an expresso machine fizzling. The September sun shown through the windows, softened by a gentle breeze, which allowed the curtains to blow. August Gold does not stand on a stage but rather wanders through the public back and forth.

It was, as if all the pent up emotions over those days displaced in the rescue effort were unloaded this first Sunday after 9/11: pain, mourning, rage, despair, fear, calls for revenge. All of Manhattan's other houses of worship were also jam-packed. At the Catholic St. Francis Xavier Church on 16th Street, which lost many firemen they played God Bless America on the organ, at the Episcopal Grace Church in the West Village the pastor gave his sermon "Where Was God on Tuesday?"

At Sacred Center, however, the people got to hear another message - a message of forgiveness and understanding. "Our first thought may not be about blame," Gold said. "In God's world there are no enemies. God was in the World Trade Center. God was on the airplanes. God was in them, in all of us, in everyone."

A woman in the audience stood up. She was visiting from San Francisco. She had to fly back the next morning she said and she asked, "Should I be afraid?" Gold delicately navigated her response "Either I come home tomorrow and am safe. Or I don't come home and I am still safe."

By the consciously denying the policy of fear, the mantra "us against them" which those days was perpetrated from Washington throughout the land, Gold was going against the mainstream with her Ghandi-like appeal to gentleness instead of hate - and it often hit a nerve. A 6-hour workshop called "Radical Forgiveness" had to be held again-so great was the demand.  Sacred Center grew and grew. It moved from SoHo to storefront in Chelsea, from Chelsea to the Upper East Side Lighthouse for the Blind and eventually to the Garment District. Meanwhile Gold accepted 10 more ministers, several prominent speakers, added a Wednesday service, prayer groups and regular seminars. 

And Gold herself had written two children's books, Where Does God Live? and Does God Hear My Prayer? and even a spiritual novel The Prayer Chest.

Did the terror attacks actually lead New York to a spiritual renaissance?

Faith, spirituality and religiosity are always subjective and difficult to statistically measure. Opinion polls about church attendance and church affiliation are notoriously unreliable, even with traditional faiths, since the respondents exaggerate their devoutness out of a bad conscience.

In the days and weeks after 9/11, Gallup, the largest US-based polling institute reported a general "increase in religiosity" with Americans: three quarters of the respondents indicated they prayed more frequently and more fervently than before. Particularly in New York it was obvious that the number of churchgoers dramatically rose at that time, even if exact numbers varied, depending specifically on which minister, priest or rabbi one asked.

A joint sociological study by the University of Washington and the University of Michigan came to a similar conclusion: "After the attacks of 9/11, American felt a strong longing for spiritual support and a positive attitude towards life in order to cope with the events. Almost two thirds of respondents ran to prayer as instant therapy. They found a strong, new identity as Americans on a spiritual level." explains sociologist Amy Ai, a co-author in the study.

The World Changers Church of the black traveling evangelist, Reverend Creflo Dollar, enjoyed an undreamt of increase. The followers donate ten percent of their income to Dollar's church; the church leader himself meanwhile lives on an estate in Atlanta and has a $2.5 Million penthouse in Manhattan.

The phenomenon is not new: "The perceived relevance of religion seems to peak after a great crisis", explains George Gallup, son of the same-named opinion polls. The historical examples, he adds, are most remarkably war situations: Japan's attack of Pearl Harbor in 1941, the first Gulf war in 1991.

Even today St. Paul's Chapel, opposite Ground Zero whose nearly 250-year old cemetery was buried on September 11, 2001 by rubble, is a place of pilgrimage. Here the clean-up workers and aid workers slept in hard bunks between their twelve-hour shifts, were deep in prayer, got free massages or could listen to spontaneous musical performances. Since that time the church has become a museum for spiritual sacrifice, with a heart-moving permanent exhibition of 9/11-momentos (covers, quilts, equipment, construction helmets), which often brings tears to the tourists' eyes.

"Some people have absolutely lost their faith from this," recalls Reverend Dan Matthews, Rector at St. Paul's at that time immediately following 9/11. "Others have rediscovered their faith through the experience of selflessness."

"Such perceptions" Gallup warns against "are often only short-lived." Indeed, in December 2001 Gallup had already registered a return to the number of active faithful in the USA to earlier numbers. "It seems to give few indications of a religious revival", wrote the Institute at the beginning of 2002.

The situation is somewhat more vague among the non-organized faiths - spiritual movements, alternative religions, esoteric teachings, and new age groups. The New York Times, which is happy to be perceived as the city's style and taste barometer, noticed a "healing boom after 9/11" in Manhattan. Kabbalah and meditation centers, Reiki "master" and buddhist layman seminars experienced a wave of interest. Stockbrokers and taxi drivers, secretaries and doctors equally embarked on holistic journeys. And those who really got into it, suddenly had roting Kabbalah threads around their wrists.

"Since September 11, it seems like priorities have changed." maintains Mark Becker, Producer of the NewLife Expo, a New Age tradeshow that according to their data continues to grow every year. "Since then, everyone has turned more inward and has looked for peace and new possibilities."

In early summer 2001, John Griffith had already toyed with the idea of enriching his life on a spiritual level. The 46-year old VIP hairdresser from Manhattan, known as "John Gerard", stressed out from of a vacuous job, wanted to enroll with the One Spirit Learning Alliance, a modern, interfaith seminar for ministers in Midtown. It instructs members in several different western, as well as eastern, religions at the same time, as "a new vision for the interspiritual age".

But One Spirit was already full for the fall semester 2001 and Griffith put his plans on hold again.

Then came 9/11.

Griffith attempted to call his mother on Long Island right away that morning. But in the communication chaos the phone lines got crossed and suddenly he had an unknown woman at the other end of his cell phone. The tension was eased by a conversation that to this day Griffith remembers word-for-word.

"Who's there?"
"I'm Rose, and you?"
"John. Where are you?"
"In the Village, and you?"
"Chelsea."
"Did you see what happened?"
"Yes, I was standing on the street, and you?"
"I am standing on my roof. Oh God."
"Are you ok?"
"I am fine, and you?"
"Me too. I am trying to get in touch with my mother."
"Good luck, and take care of yourself."
"Yes, you too."

A short conversation between two people, who had nothing in common except a coincidental crossing of telephone lines and a common shock over the events. It happened a thousand times all over the city as if everyone were holding each other firmly in their arms.

And, of course, it was for Griffiths a very private, deep experience. "This moment changed my life. I felt a warmth for people, whom I had not known before. And I noticed that I needed new answers to my questions."

For weeks he balled "four-five times a day." In January 2002, he tried again and signed up for One Spirit.

"9/11 definitely eliminated any doubts I had about what my path in life would be. It completely changed how I saw life.

Griffith, a big freckled guy, sits in his livingroom in Chelsea. He lives in a small, sunny two-room apartment on West 15th Street; on the shelf are framed family photos, spiritual books, and Donna Summer CDs. Like most old buildings in Manhattan, the tiny kitchen has no dishwasher. In the bedroom there's a full laundry bag, ready to be brought to the laundromat.

Even to this day, Griffith can hardly hold back the tears, when he talks about that time. His eyes well up, the words stick in his throat. He takes a big sip of diet Coke.

Becoming a minister was the last thing Griffith ever expected his life's path to be. Born and raised in the Bronx, he left the Catholic Church after a traumatic personal experience. Instead he hung out with a small group of friends around the house. As a teenager, he was regular guest at Studio 54, Xenon, Paradise Garage, and he hung out with club owners and celebrities "and whoever else was there" and would pull allnighters.

For years he was consumed, as it was trendy in New York at that time, with distractions from many sources. He eventually pulled himself together and made a name for himself as a hairstylist.

"On 9/11 New York would grow in a remarkable way," Griffith said.

He noticed this himself latest when 2 years after the attacks the city had a blackout - and the anticipated chaos did not breakout. "Everyone was so calm and quiet, everyone helping one another. A feeling of safety enveloped New York."

In the summer of 2003 John Griffiths, along with hundreds of others, became a minister during a ceremony at the enormous Saint John the Devine Cathedral. The breath-taking church - the seat of the Bishop of New York and for the last 114 years under construction, although only two-thirds complete, was filled to the very last seat; they had to bring in additional seating. It was a boiling hot day. Through the stained-glass windows colored rays streamed through the dark to the cool aisle, onto the procession of the young ministers from all denominations entering from the side. Griffith invited all of his friends, including a few old buddies from his Studio 54 days, and afterwards they all went to brunch.

Griffith still cuts hair, as the rent has to come from somewhere. His prominent customers don't begrudge him giving a mini sermon; he's always been a confessor anyway. They call him the "Preaching Hairstylist." And at the same time, he gets more and more involved with Sacred Center, where he sometimes leads the Wednesday service, a study group and a support group for recovering alcoholics.

"I want to understand all faiths," he said. "as well as those who are responsible for 9/11". In principle, it all comes down to the same truth, right? Only it's often twisted in the name of religion for radical purposes. Who is my friend? Who is my enemy? Today I know: No one is my enemy."

"I have never seen people more hungry for spiritual teachings than today," says August Gold of her own congregation. "The quality of my students, their appetite for knowledge, the probing questions that they put forward - as if their life depended on it. In the past, you only saw this when someone had a heart attack or cancer. Today young people come to me and want me to teach them to pray."

Isn't that a paradox, here of all places, New York, the oh-so-godless city of evil?

Gold laughs out loud. "Most people who come to New York come here because they are searching for something to transform their life. They are searching after something real even if they willingly disguise their quest with materialism. They want to be shaken up, want to shake off apathy, pettiness, and isolation. Everyone who comes to New York is on an inner journey.

August Gold speaks in front of her congregation for 45-minutes. Then eventually she comes to the end of her message - with a rather unholy joke:

"What would happen if the scientists found out that all this spirituality stuff is baloney? That there is nothing behind it at all?" She laughs loudly and everyone laughs nervously with her. "Then we have to go home and stuff ourselves with drugs!"

The audience responds, like every Sunday, with a standing ovation.

Afterwards, the collection plate goes around, preprinted donation envelopes are provided with slips to fill out (VISA, Mastercard, Amex and Discover all 100% deductible).

A few songs, a few prayers and then the service is over and the people stream out laughing and chatting.

In Sacred Center's foyer, Gold's prerecorded talks are for sale either as rapidly-produced cassettes ($6) or CDs ($10), discounted for a 3-pack. The line goes out practically to the street.

For some, however, the message of hope comes too late.