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September 11, 2001. We cried that day. Some of us cried with tears. Others cried with our hearts, but we ALL cried that day. Jeremiah’s words are all too real for us. "My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick." Do you remember where you were when you found out about the vicious attack on America? I awoke, ready to face a regular Tuesday, and walked into the kitchen. Kim and Jeremy had the little black and white TV on. They said, "The World Trade Center buildings have collapsed." I returned to my room and watched the sickening images of a plane crashing into a building, images of imploding buildings, images of people dying. My joy was gone, the tears flowed, and my heart was sick. On February 15, 1947 Glenn Chambers boarded a plane bound for Quito, Ecuador to begin his ministry in missionary broadcasting. But he never arrived. In a horrible moment, the plane carrying Chambers crashed into a mountain peak. Later it was learned that before leaving the Miami airport, Chambers wanted to write his mother a letter. All he could find for stationery was a page of advertising on which was written the single word "WHY?" Around that word he hastily scribbled a final note. After Chambers' mother learned of her son's death, his letter arrived. She opened the envelope, took out the paper, and unfolded it. Staring her in the face was the question "WHY?" Once we recover from the shock of last Tuesday’s events something within us needs to ask the question, "Why?" Why did such a horrific event happen? Sarah Parsons, home page editor for the Upper Room, wrote this essay last Tuesday. Three hours ago, two planes crashed into the World Trade Center in New York, one attacked the Pentagon, and yet another went down near Pittsburgh. There is nothing I can do. How could we not now ask God, "Why did you let this happen?" I sit here, stewing in anxiety, fear, concern, grief, and I watch the TV. Where are we going? Why did this happen? What is the larger meaning here? How could this event be woven into the fabric of all our life-events in any way that has redemptive meaning? After all, I believe that God is in the process of redeeming this world. How could this be part of that process? This is insane, a radical departure from all that is holy; it seems like we are abandoned, forgotten, alone in the universe, left here to battle it out with one another. I wish I could say something to make sense of this, to inspire, to assure myself and others that God's loving hand really is at work in the world. This is no time for melodrama, but I believe it is a time for passion. This may, in fact, be a time for all of us who believe in a good and just Power governing the universe to step up and follow, and to follow passionately, desperately, as if the very world depended on it. We are not alone, but we are agents; we are God's servants in this mixed-up crazy world, even when we feel like there is nothing we can do. There is something we can do. In Wendell Berry's poem "The Wild Geese," he says that he prays "not/for new earth or heaven, but to be/quiet in heart and in eye/clear." Right now, I want a new earth so much; I want to pray for a totally different earth, one in which horrific violent acts do not take place. But no, stop. The violence must stop with me. I think Berry is saying that we cannot exchange this earth for a new one. To me, right now, this means: We can never keep others from committing violent acts. We cannot change what has happened or take pain away. But by becoming "quiet in heart and in eye clear" we can cultivate deep gentleness in our own souls, so that our anger and grief do not spill out to feed a never-ending violent spiral. Peace. In the midst of all the chaos and grief, we must find the God-given peace within. We must embody peace. I believe this is what it means to follow God through such a horrible experience. It does not mean that we do not feel grief, anger, confusion, possibly even despair. We feel and accept those feelings, and then we go deeper, to the place where God abides and grieves with us. We touch the deep peace that lives in us. Then, and only then, we begin to live God's peace in the world. And by living peace, whatever that means for each of us, I believe we will each participate in God's world-redeeming work. There is something we can do. There are things we can do. We can give to the UMCOR effort through our denomination. An article is in your worship folder. We can give blood. Today from 12-5 we can give blood at First United Methodist Church downtown. We can pray…for the victims and their families…and for our leaders. And let us not forget Jesus’ words to pray for our enemies, as hard as that might be. Rev Brad Call, a UM pastor and consultant to our capital funds campaign, was here in Alaska when tragedy struck. That night he wrote this piece titled, "I Didn’t Know...and Yet I Knew." I didn’t know that we were so vulnerable...yet I knew that we live in a world where even the unthinkable and unspeakable can happen any moment, where human life is considered cheap, and where violence seems to be the answer of choice for so many. I didn’t know that one could feel so alone...yet I knew that many have found themselves in the midst of feelings of emptiness because life (or death) has snatched away something or someone of value. I didn’t know that I was feeling the way I do until someone said to me, "It must be hard facing the senseless tragedy when there is no one with you that you can hold...yet I knew that the only way life makes any sense is if we care about someone and if we share it with those who care about us. I didn’t know that the people I care about most deeply would so much need to hear the sound of my voice to reassure them that I was OK…yet I knew that their touch and their voices carry the imprint of a deep inner connection to me. I didn’t know that I could truly feel embraced by the "strangers" in a place 2500 miles from home...and yet I knew that one of the blessings of being God’s children is having a family you can turn to wherever you are. I didn’t know if I could truly forgive, in the midst of my anger, frustration, and fear...and yet I knew that I have been forgiven of so many times when I have been the source of the same feelings in others. I didn’t know how to find any sense of hope in a world where such senseless acts can and do continue to happen...and yet I knew that God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in times of trouble, who promises to be with us in the midst of our despair and speak peace once again to our hearts. There is much to learn in this tragedy. There were things we didn’t know before Sept. 11. But now we know more about evil. We know about pain and suffering. And we know about a God who suffers with us. Some will ask, "Where was God on Sept. 11?" Let me answer this question with a story. Almost 50 years ago Elie Wiesel was a fifteen-year old prisoner in the Nazi death camp at Buna. A cache of arms belonging to a Dutchman had been discovered at the camp. The man was promptly shipped to Auschwitz. But he had a young servant boy, a pipel as they were called, a child with a refined and beautiful face, unheard of in the camps. He had the face of a sad angel. The little servant, like his Dutch master, was cruelly tortured, but would not reveal any information. So the SS sentenced the child to death, along with two other prisoners who had been discovered with arms. Wiesel tells the story: One day when we came back from work, we saw three gallows rearing up in the assembly place, three black crows. Roll call. SS all around us; machine guns trained: the traditional ceremony. Three victims in chains--and one of them, the little servant, the sad- eyed angel. The SS seemed more preoccupied, more disturbed than usual. To hang a young boy in front of thousands of spectators was no light matter. The head of the camp read the verdict. All eyes were on the child. He was lividly pale, almost calm, biting his lips. The gallows threw its shadow over him. This time the Lagercapo refused to act as executioner. Three SS replaced him. The three victims mounted together onto the chairs. The three necks were placed at the same moment within the nooses. "Long live liberty!" cried the two adults. But the child was silent. "Where is God? Where is He?" someone behind me asked. Total silence throughout the camp. On the horizon, the sun was setting. "Bare your heads!" yelled the head of the camp. His voice was raucous. We were weeping. "Cover your heads!" Then the march past began. The two adults were no longer alive. Their tongues hung swollen, blue-tinged. but the third rope was still moving; being so light, the child was still alive...For more than half an hour he stayed there, struggling between life and death, dying in slow agony under our eyes. And we had to look him full in the face. He was still alive when I passed in front of him. His tongue was still red, his eyes were not yet glazed. Behind me, I heard the same man asking: "Where is God now?" And I heard a voice within me answer him: "Where is He? Here He is--He is hanging here on this gallows.." Where was God on Sept. 11? God was on American flight 11 as it slammed into the north tower of the World Trade Center. God was on board United flight 175 as it struck the south tower. God was there as American flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon. God was in the cockpit of United flight 39 as it went down in a Pennsylvania field. God was in the World Trade Center towers as they came crashing down. God was there as people jumped to their deaths. God was in Pentagon as fire raged and consumed steel and human flesh. God is everywhere people are suffering. In a letter to his sister before he was hanged by the Nazis, Lutheran pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, wrote, "It is good to learn early enough that suffering and God are not a contradiction but rather a unity, for the idea that God himself is suffering is one that has always been one of the most convincing teachings of Christianity. I think God is nearer to suffering than to happiness, and to find God in this way gives peace and rest and a strong and courageous heart." As God’s people let us open our hearts to the hurt others are feeling today. Let us be compassionate Christians. Let us share our feelings with others instead of keeping them bottled up. One of the many stories coming out of the destruction in New York was of people fleeing the terror. After they were a safe distance away they found themselves gazing back on the disaster site. Little by little total strangers would gather together in small groups. They cried and prayed and watched. But they needed to be physically close to other people. They needed to not be alone. Many of us gathered last week for prayer services. We are gathered here this morning. We, too, have a need to not be alone. We need each other. We need God. Let us hold one another even as we allow our very lives to be held by God. And let us take the good news of Christ to the world that evil will not prevail. Let us take the good news that neither death nor life, nor powers, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen. |
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09/16/01 - Where Was God? (Jeremiah 8:18-9:1 Romans 8:35,37-39)
