The Twelth Sunday after Pentecost

Remembering September 10th, September 2001

Today, of course, is September 11th. It is the tenth September 11th since the one in 2001. Anniversaries with zeros on the end tend to get special attention—whether they are anniversaries of joy, like a birth or a marriage, or if they are anniversaries of grief or tragedy.

So this anniversary has received a lot of attention in the media and the public sphere. Everyone is remembering… in public. It almost seems like businesses, organizations, public figures… all are engaged in competitive remembering. Or, if not competitive remembering, compulsive remembering. Major League Baseball remembers, America Remembers, ABC remembers, the Stars of Lyric opera concert at Millennium Park last night remember. The front page of today’s Tribune—after you peel of the post-it note advertisement—proclaims in the largest possible font: We Remember.

As though any American who was alive then could forget. As though any of us who were alive then could forget the loss, the fear, the heroism, the compassion, the shock.

This is an important anniversary, but I’m a bit tired of all the public reflecting and remembering. I feel a bit guilty admitting it, but I’m definitely suffering from 9/11 news overload now.
 
Nevertheless… Considering much of what has been said in the last week or so, change seems to be the most prominent topic. How 9/11 caused change.

The Christian Science Monitor writes, “The terrorist attacks have become this generation’s Pearl Harbor—an epic event that has changed young peoples’ view of the world and America’s place in it.”

One news anchor said, “It changed everything.” Everything.

In an interview with National Geographic, President Bush noted how the events of that day dramatically changed his presidency. Probably no one would argue with that.

BBC North America editor, Mark Mardell, wrote, “When I first started asking Americans about how 9/11 had changed their country, I was surprised. I had been expecting something about the wars, or other philosophical reflections. Instead they talked about queues at airports.” The responses may seem a bit superficial, but the focus is still on change, the expectation that the way to reflect on 9/11 is to analyze the changes that it produced.

A subheading on the front page of today’s Tribune says, “The day that changed a decade.”

Change. 9/11 is to be interpreted and understood in terms of the changes that were set in motion by the events of that day.

Despite my news fatigue, remembering is not a bad thing to do today, on this tenth anniversary of September 11th, 2001. I was not here then, of course. When I preached to the people of St. Patrick’s, in Brewer, Maine, on the Sunday after September 11th, I did urge them to remember. I want to say to you some of what I said to them ten years ago. Remember. Remember September 10th, 2001. Ten years ago September 11th was a Tuesday. I urge you to remember Monday. Remember Monday, September 10th, 2001.

On Monday, September 10th, countless Christians around the world woke up and began the day with prayer. As they have for thousands and thousands of years, people of faith offered their private and corporate prayers and praises to God. They found joy, courage, hope and strength in the unshakable presence of God in their daily lives. Many in this country, Episcopalians in particular, may have begun their day on September 10th with the pamphlet of prayer and meditation knows as Forward Day by Day. On that Monday, it referred to Paul’s letter to the Philippians and spoke of “sharing in the gospel.” “Did you ever see a child,” the meditation said, “open a wonderful present and not share it with anyone? Good news is to be shared. ‘I pray’ says Paul, ‘that your love may overflow.’ Love is never static; it grows or diminishes. And in growth, our capacity to love breaks through, overflows, and takes root in another and another and another. Love is always shared, and always more than enough.” A Christian meditation from September 10th, 2001. Love is always shared, and always more than enough.
 
On Monday, September 10th, countless other Christians began their day with Daily Morning Prayer. As they do every single day, they presented themselves to God. Possibly, as they read through the service of Daily Morning Prayer, they may have confessed their sins, large and small, so that they could begin that ordinary Monday with newness of heart. They read a lesson from the First Book of Kings, chapter 13, verses 1-10. The day before they had read the end of chapter 12. The next day they would continue on in First Kings… Because, as Christians have, for thousands of years, they found insight and guidance in the regular, daily reading of God’s word. In Morning Prayer, they said the Lord’s Prayer… “give us this day our daily bread… thy kingdom come, thy will be done.”

On that Monday, September 10th, ten years ago, I imagine that some Christian woman somewhere, widowed perhaps, deeply connected to the life and worship of the church, went out to work in her garden early in the morning and began humming to herself, “Oh God, our help in ages past. Our hope for years to come. Our shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home.” Maybe she was lonely or anxious on that particular Monday. Or maybe it was just one of her absolute favorite hymns of the church. That day in her garden, she felt the resonance of the hymn and its powerful words grow and grow with the strength of the millions upon millions of voices of faith who have sung that hymn over the centuries.

On Monday, September 10th, 2001, the day before September 11th, Christians around the world buried their dead. On Monday. Proclaiming in the midst of their grief and loss, as Christians always have, the sure and certain hope that in death life is changed, not ended. And that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

On Monday, September 10th, Christians around the world reached out with compassion to the sick and suffering. Every day for almost 2000 years Christian have heeded Jesus’ words: “If you do this for the least of these, you do it for me.”

On Monday, September 10th, 2001, September 10th being a Monday that year, some Christians might have paused for just a moment to remember the day before—a Sunday, the Lord’s Day. It would have been the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost. Maybe on that Sunday a parent watched his child reach out to receive communion for the first time and then, in the moment when he, too, received, the father knew, with a startling certainty, the absolutely insurmountable strength of the bond shared by those who share the Body and Blood of Christ. Those who are united in Christ cannot be separated.

That September Sunday would have been Rally Day, Jubilation Sunday, for many parishes. Christians would have done what Christian in parish communities do: they would have signed up for Sunday School, joined in fellowship and conversation with one another, perhaps shared in a common meal. They would have participated in the everyday activities of Christian community because it is within Christian community… it is in the relationships that bind a parish together into the Body of Christ… It is those relationships that manifest God’s power of unity to overcome estrangement, the power of forgiveness to heal guilt, and of joy to conquer despair. It happens whenever two or three are gathered together in Jesus’ name.

Perhaps that Monday, September 10th, a goodly number of Christian clergy read the Scripture readings appointed for the coming Sunday. (I would not have been among them looking ahead.) Not having any idea what the week ahead would bring, they read the Scripture passages so that God’s Word might color and inform their lives during the week, and so that the meshing of the Scriptures with their experiences during the coming week might inspire their preaching on the following Sunday. Those clergy would have gone to bed Monday night with these words rolling around in their minds (we were in a different lectionary year that year): “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.”

On Monday, September 10th, Christians gave thanks. Thanks for the food on their tables. Thanks for the blessing of families. Thanks for minds to think and hearts to love, and hands to touch and serve. Thanks for health and leisure. Thanks for those who are brave and courageous and patient. Thanks for the opportunity, as creatures in God’s creation, to seek and explore and build and imagine.

And on Monday, September 10th, 2001, a Christian particularly prone to spiritual reflection might have reflected back upon the worst day that the world has ever seen. A day when human kind crucified the Son of God. When we left the God of love hanging to die upon a cross on Calvary. No day can ever be worse than that one. Nothing can be darker, more hopeless, more evil than that day. And yet God entered into that day of human evil and suffering and brought us out of it. Brought us out of it. Out of that very worst day God brought unimaginable hew hope and new life.

On Monday, September 10th, 2001, Christians found strength and guidance in prayer; celebrated the blessing of God’s presence; shared God’s love in worship; supported one another with compassion; and proclaimed God’s victory over evil and death.

Many people are saying that on Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, everything changed.

I hope not.

Given what everyday Christian were doing on September 10th, I hope that everything did not change.

I know that our baptismal covenant did not change. The baptismal covenant, which begins with the ancient affirmation of faith from the Apostles’ Creed and continues with our prayer, that by God’s help, we may live into our Christian vocations… The baptismal covenant did not change.

Many people were profoundly affected by the events of September 11th, 2001. Please don’t imagine for a second that I am discounting the impact of the events of that day ten years ago upon individuals and upon our nation.

But for those of us who are Christian, what did not change that day is more important than what did. The baptismal covenant did not change. Our affirmation of Christ’s love and mercy. The glorious hope to which we are called as beloved children of God. The measure of the Christian vocation to which, with God’s help, we may aspire. These have not changed. And these are bigger, more important, even, than 9/11.

Well more than ten years ago, St. Paul wrote to the Christians in Rome, encouraging them to persevere in the Christian faith and life. A few weeks ago, we heard St. Paul’s list of characteristics of the Christian life. He concluded by reminding the Christians in Rome that Christians are called to be people who “overcome evil with good.”

Christians are people who overcome evil with good. That is something that 9/11 has not changed.