Proper 19b
Sept. 12, 2021 St. Paul's, Monroe
Remember — Memorare
Over the last week or two we have seen and heard and read and viewed countless reflections on the events of 20 years ago. Not all of us at Saint Paul's have memories of that fateful day, but most of us recognize it was a day that changed just about everything.
The pundits have reflected on lessons learned, there have been poignant stories of initial victims and their families, of survivors and their families, and those who are still suffering the effects. I know for me it has been emotional.
One thing that has not been especially prominent has been a focus on the religious connection with that day and it’s after-effects. It’s a little surprising to me because more than any other event in my life I experienced 9/11 from the perspective of the church.
That day 20 years ago, I was a long ways away -- six time zones away -- from the events. A 12 hour flight away. I had been in Hawai’i all of four days.
My first official day in the office was spent beginning to plan for a liturgy which we hoped residents of our neighborhood would attend.
I didn’t know the neighborhood yet. I didn’t know what resources my church might be able to bring to bear. I knew that the entire country, the world really, was entering into a common shared experience. It was an experience we didn’t have words for at that moment.
This past week I listened to the testimony from several survivors and witnesses of the events on the ground. They made reference to the way in which at that moment the city of New York, the people of the United States, and much of the world itself, were united. We stood together as human beings, and that doesn’t happen very often. That in itself is a religious story.
It was standing together, being family, o'hana it's called in Hawai'i. It's way more than biological connections. It's not even proximity or similar appearance. It is much more a spiritual reality. On 9/11, for a short period of time, the whole world was family.
Preparing a liturgy
We at the church knew rather quickly that we needed to respond to the community, not just to our parishioners. We began to plan for a prayer service that would target the neighborhood around us.
The chapel that we had at St. Mary's was an old building about 80 years old at the time, dating from the earliest years of Saint Mary's. The doors to it were always unlocked to anyone who wanted quiet and a place to have a conversation with God. In the next year or two we ended up having to decide to lock the doors during the night, but it was very much a community space.
Fairly quickly I decided that it was serendipitous that the coming Friday, 3 days away, was the Feast of the Holy Cross. A feast of the church that focused on the crucifixion of Jesus seemed like a most fitting backdrop to our community coming together for prayer and to honor those who had died.
For some of us the surprising thing about the events we saw unfolding on the television was that the numbers of those who died was seemingly miraculously low. It was a number that was similar to those who died at Pearl Harbor in 1941. There were quite a number of survivors of the attack on Pearl Harbor in my congregation. Members of my community could easily identify with survivors of 9/11.
At that liturgy I made reference for the first time to God suffering with his people. It would not be the last time. We sang two hymns that day that I thought would be familiar to people in the community, Balm in Gilead and Amazing Grace. I came to associate both of those songs with Good Friday liturgies from then on.
Memorial
One of the main things that we do when we observe memorials, as we have done this past week, is remember. To keep a memorial for those who suffered and died, to give thanks for the response of so many heroes, first responders, caregivers and so many more, is to remember the powerful, loving, self-sacrificial things that they did. Remembering for such significant occasions means that we must not forget.
The first event that I remember being referred to that way was the great Holocaust of the mid 20th century. That there were more genocides to follow only emphasized the importance of never forgetting.
I am aware, however, that this is not the first nor the last of the human events about which we must say, "We must not forget."
What are we doing as we remember such things?
Honoring the fallen? Honoring those who are still suffering and dying because of the effects? Yes. To be sure.
But we do more. The memorial we keep is for the one event that we must not forget. We are here as followers of Christ. What we must do is proclaim the Gospel.
How much the more is it the case that we must continue to remember and never forget the eternally significant event: the death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.
Remembering Christ
Our remembering in the context of the gospel is a solemn remembering, it is a sacred symbol.
Symbols are powerful things. Anyone who makes reference to something being "merely a symbol" has no real understanding of symbols. A stop sign is merely a shape, a sign. But it is also a symbol, and as a symbol it has the power to stop a many tonned semi-tractor trailer.
Symbols are powerful because they are able to bring about the very thing to which they point.
When we keep a memorial, we may understand the sacred symbol to point in several directions. It may be intended to honor our forebears, those who have gone before us and made possible who we are today. That is important and it is noble. We may also keep a sacred memorial for the purpose of giving God the glory. That too is a noble and a blessed thing.
As we keep a sacred memorial, we would do well to remember the words from Psalm 90:
“For in Your sight a thousand years
are like yesterday that has passed,
like a watch of the night.”
Our intention is to connect with the gospel.
The diocese has developed a liturgy with the subject “Lament, Longing, Hope.” It premiers today and is offered for use throughout the diocese until the end of October.
[Do show and tell]
The primary occasion for this liturgy which brings together emotions like lament, longing, and hope is our ongoing experience with the global pandemic.
The liturgy recognizes that there is a wide range of emotions that we are feeling during this time. The numbers who have died in the pandemic vastly exceed the numbers who have on 9/11 or at Pearl Harbor.
There is also deep sorrow and lament over the divisions that have become increasingly visible in our communities, our civic communities as well as religious ones. Our family, our o'hana, is fractured.
The cry for hope can be heard in the voices of many whom we hear every day.
We will set aside a time in the next few weeks when we at St. Paul's will observe this liturgy as we do here on Sundays, both in person and virtually.
The Gospel we have received
In the passage we have heard today from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus turns to his disciples and asks them who do people say that I am? Their responses were all over the place, sounding a lot like a typical band of Christians of today. We represent perspectives and factions from many different points of view. But Jesus didn’t allow those competing visions to be the final answer. He needed them to listen closely.
Not surprisingly the single, pointed vision he wanted them to understand was essentially paradoxical. It basically didn't make sense. That's what a paradox is. Understandable, then, for people to be all over the place.
“For those who want to save their life will lose it”
The Messiah whom they were expecting, the Son of Man, was meant to suffer. The leader they longed for was meant to be rejected and to be killed.
This is the Gospel we proclaim as we keep memorial. What we remember today is filled with suffering. More than anyone should have to bear. But we are gathered under the banner of one who shares that suffering.
The memory of 9/11 means that to me. The time of pandemic, when experienced through the lens of faith, means that to me.
Closing
We are now at day one after the 20th anniversary of 9/11.
We are not yet through the grueling haul of pandemic.
Before us always -- both then and now -- is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, crucified and Risen again.
Our Messiah is a suffering Messiah. That is the context of our suffering.
2 Corinthians 1:5-7 ESV
For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.
Romans 8:18 ESV
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.
In the words of one of the songs from the diocesan liturgy and also the liturgy I led 20 years ago:
There is a balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole
There is a balm in Gilead
To heal the sin-sick soul
No comments:
Post a Comment