May 24, 2009

“Remembering”

Revelation 21:10, 22-27
Reverand Jim Wood Preaching

On an island in the western Pacific there’s a small cemetery where Americans and New Zealanders who died in battle during World War II are buried. Near their graves is a simple, rustic marker with this inscription:

They shall not grow old as we who are left grow old.

Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun, and in the morning,

we shall remember them.

We all want to be known in this life, and we want to be remembered after we die. One of the greatest fears of those who must cope with debilitating and prolonged illness is that they will die alone and be forgotten, that their having lived will be robbed of significance and notice. Ask any hospice worker, ask any hospital chaplain or, indeed, ask any of us. We want to be remembered.

The concern is well founded because it’s so easy to forget and to be forgotten. John Knox experienced how heartfelt this reality is and wrote of it:

Not long ago I had occasion to visit a small church in a village in Virginia where my father was pastor for some years and where I spent an important part of my boyhood. My father, while shy and [quiet], was a man of remarkable intelligence, humor and charm and quite extraordinary goodness, and I found he was remembered by a few of the older members of that church. But their number is few . . . and decreases each year, and soon no one will remember my father at all. His name will be read for a while—as on a stained glass window in the church which is dedicated to his memory, but the name will mean no more to those who read it than most names on plaques and portraits of old buildings mean to me. Not only will he be silent, as he has been these years since his death, but he will be forgotten. Here is perhaps the supreme [sadness] of life—not that we die only, but that the memory of us must die, too.

Memorial Day would postpone such loss, for it reminds us again how those who have died are still part of us, and we of them, how we bear forever the traces they left. I mean traces of character, sacrifice, values, faith, love and hope. Memorial Day summons all of this for renewal, enlargement and response. The observance originated after the Civil War as a way of encouraging people to visit the graves of those who had fallen in battle and leave a floral tribute. Then called, “Decoration Day,” it was a time when families gathered in cemeteries and talked about the departed, recalling those special moments they shared together, some bringing extra floral bouquets for the numerous graves marked, “Unknown Soldier.”

Such gestures go back to the dawn of human consciousness. The Hebrew verb zachar—translated “to remember”—is an important verb in the Old Testament because it was so critical for Israel to remember and not forget how God had blessed them and also how prior generations kept the faith, many sacrificing their lives to do so. The eleventh chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews in the New Testament is a picturesque litany of remembering the steadfast heroes and heroines of the past as inspiration for us, or as the author says, “to run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.”

Yes, our faith maintains that we’re to remember those who have run the race before us and whose example informs and lights our own journey. For we’re not the first to struggle with evil and adversity; the first to stand for justice; the first to stoop down, pick up the pieces and begin again; the first to hold our light against the darkness; the first to risk our lives for others; the first to know and follow Jesus; the first to walk with God. No, others have traveled this way before us; there’s a history from which we must learn and a heritage that we must wisely receive.

And so, to understand and deal with the present as well as face the future, we must remember the past and those who peopled it for us: those who cherished us into life at our beginning, who loved us through the years even when we least deserved or expected it, whose open arms of forgiveness received us again, who sat or walked beside us and believed in us when no one else did, who challenged our minds and helped shape our character and our faith, who introduced us to and celebrated beauty with us and in whose generous presence we discovered lasting joy. Reynolds Price, the Southern writer, said it this way, “Never be too far from a place—a wall or an album—where you can study and remember the faces of those you love and must not betray.” We must not forget; we must remember.

The same is true of our commitment to Christ. I like the story of the young man who walked into a card shop looking for an appropriate card for his girlfriend. He asked the store clerk to pick out something for him that would express his very deep sentiment. She picked out the best-selling card and gave it to the young man. It said simply, “To the only girl I have ever loved.”

The young man said, “Terrific! Wonderful! I’ll take six of those!”

Now obviously, that young man had trouble with commitment. Sometimes you and I do, too! One of the things that helps us hold to the faith, though, is our memory as disciples of Christ. We gather each Sunday to do just that—to remember Jesus. The most significant thing happening this morning is the fact that by symbol, prayer, hymn, anthem and the Word, we’re remembering Jesus, his teachings, his way with persons, his life, death and resurrection, in order to claim God’s love in him unto our salvation. We must not forget; we are to remember!

Our faith also maintains that God remembers each of us, that no one lives or dies unnoticed, that we’re never alone. The inscription on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington Cemetery is right, “Known only to God.” This afternoon’s reading from the Bible underscores this faith conviction. In The Revelation to John the author talks about how there’s a Book of Life where the individual names of the faithful are recorded and how they will be identified and marked by the names of God and Christ on their forehead. We will not disappear into nothingness or be absorbed into some universal essence—we will instead be remembered individually and known by God forever.

Some months back I read a piece from a theological journal. The writer told of a certain day when he was in the foothills of nearby mountains visiting a park that he’d helped build along with other friends. He writes:

All at once I noticed something new had been added. I went to investigate what it was. At my feet was planted a stone. It had not been there before. And it could have been a stone easily overlooked except for the fact that upon it in bronze was a name inscribed. I have visited many public places and seen many names etched in remembrance of persons I had not known, but here was one I knew.

Robert Janney Lake was a classmate of mine in seminary. More than that, a friend and a fellow journeyman in the calling. And I shall never forget that beneath his name were but two simple words, “Beloved Minister,” which if I translate correctly means, “Beloved Servant.” And beneath the tribute a verse from the sacred page that read, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good tidings.” Some words say it all.

He, for whom this beautiful park is fittingly named in fulfillment of what it was so unceremoniously prepared for, died of cancer before his feet ever had a chance to wear out his shoes. No need for shoes now. As it were, the stone itself had become the beautiful feet, and the bronze plaque the beautiful message of the prophet of the Lord who stands eternally upon the foot of the mountains and preaches in the midst of the hills, beside the ever-rolling streams, down the time-eroded valleys, into the crime-ridden cities, across the warring continents, in quest of the final horizon.

I was sorely tempted to take off my shoes, for I felt I stood on holy ground. To my embarrassment, it was the adult in me which prevented me from doing so, but it did not keep me from quietly weeping as I remembered my friend.

“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him”—of anyone—”who brings good tidings, who publishes peace, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!”’

Yes, we will be remembered by name when we die; in the great love of God we will not be forgotten. “His eye is on the sparrow,” and we can be sure that the One who breathes life into us, who nurtures and watches over us in this life will welcome us by name in the life to come. And because we are remembered, we want to remember those whom we love when they die. We do not want to forget them. We remember them best when we give ourselves to the vision and purpose that gave them enthusiasm for life, when we give ourselves to the faith that held and sustained them.

I close with these words from the poet:

The young dead soldiers do not speak.

Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses

(Who has not heard them?)

They say:

We leave you our deaths,

Give them their meaning.

Give them an end to war and a true peace.

Give them a victory that ends the war and a peace

afterwards.

Give them their meaning.

We were young, they say, we have died.

Remember us.

We do remember, and along with them we also remember those who lost their lives in the struggle for justice, freedom, peace and community, those who were victims of strife and violence, poverty and despair, and all those we have loved who gave of themselves to make us who we are. Let us again bow our heads and observe a moment of silence, remembrance and tribute!

Prayer: Our loving and gracious God, we lift to you today all whose memories are part of our lives. For those who stood up for what they believed was right, for those who worked in the name of justice, for those who simply lived the life of holiness, and for all those who have died in support of this country and for that which it stands, we give you our thanks.

For the sons and daughters of veterans, for their spouses and those who loved them, we pray. Let their grief and sorrow turn to gratitude and then on to strength. Let life return to them, despite the size of their loss. We remember, too, those who live in danger every day, who still wage combat. We pray for them and their families here at home. Finally, we pray for the day to come soon when war will no longer be necessary, when all will live in peace. In Jesus, we pray. Amen.