Deuteronomy 26: 1 – 11 reads, “And it shall be, when you come into the land which the Lord your God is giving you as an inheritance, and you possess it and dwell in it, that you shall take some of the first of all produce of the ground, which you shall bring from your land that the Lord your God is giving you, and put it in a basket and go to the place where the Lord your God chooses to make His name abide.”
“And you shall go to the one who is the priest in those days, and say to him, ‘I declare today to the Lord your God that I have come to the country which the Lord swore to our fathers to give us.’”
“Then the priest shall take the basket out of your hand and set it down before the altar of the Lord your God. And you shall answer and say before the Lord your God: ‘My father was a Syrian, about to perish, and he went down to Egypt and sojourned there, few in numbers; and there he became a nation, great, might and populous. But the Egyptians mistreated us, afflicted us, and laid hard bondage on us. Then we cried out to the Lord God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our voice and looked on our affliction and our labor and our oppression.’”
So the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and with an outstretched arm, with great terror and with signs and wonders. He has brought us tot his place and has given us this land, ‘a land flowing with milk and honey;’ and now, behold, I have brought the firstfruits of the land which you, O Lord, have given me.’
“Then you shall set it before the Lord your God, and worship before the Lord your God. So you shall rejoice in every good thing which the Lord your God has given to you and your house, you and the Levite and the stranger who is among you.”
“Looking back, I realize it was the beautiful day that killed us.’ These are the words of Richard Picciotto, a worn our and grieving New York City fire battalion commander. In his book, “Last Man Down,” he tells the story of his four hours trapped in the rubble of the North Tower of the World Trade Center.
Picciotto believes that if it had been gray or overcast on September 11, there’s no way the terrorists could have flown those planes. Not on that day, anyway. All up and down the East Coast it was the same: still winds, blue skies, not a cloud in sight. Boston, New York and Washington DC… all enjoying an absolutely beautiful, late summer day.
How well we remember. The beauty of the day, the horror of the events.
We gather today, as we approach the first anniversary of September 11, to remember: to think back, to recollect, to memorialize, to analyze and to pledge to one another that we will not forget. But as Christians, we do not gather to remember in the sense of simply recollecting an important event from the past.
No, our approach is different, and it is deeply and distinctly rooted in the biblical idea of remembrance – the approach that Jesus took when he said, “Do this in remembrance of me.” In the Christian faith, remembrance brings an event from the past into the present – it recalls an event in such a way that it has a powerful effect on the here and now.
Think of when we take communion, the meal that reminds us of the gruesome, gory death of the Son of God, the tragic breaking of His body and the spilling of His blood, not in a metal tower but on a wooden cross. When we remember Jesus at His table, we believe that He is present at His table; we believe that He is present with us now, present in a powerful way, transforming our todays and our tomorrows.
Something similar should be happening right now. As we remember September 11, we should be focusing on how the events of the last year can shape this year, and how our memory of the past can transform our vision of the future.
This process begins with identification: deep, personal identification. Did you know there is a singing group called, “I Am The World Trade Center?” They are a New York electronic duo who was in existence long before September 11, and they chose their name because the twin towers represented a lot of different things to them. Daniel Geller, one of the group members, explained, “Their giant presence on the skyline reminded us every day of what an amazing and overwhelming place we are living in.” Also, the two towers, equal and independent, yet still one entity, were a metaphor for the relationship Geller and his partner Ann Dykes developed both personally and professionally.
Out of respect for those who lost so much in the tragedy, the group has shortened its name to “I Am the….” But Geller says that, “the name and symbol will still live with us and we hope that one day we can use our entire name, which we are so proud of.”
They are proud, and they should be. They have identified themselves with something amazing and overwhelming, something equal and independent, and yet united.
The web of relationships with those who were in some way involved in the events of 9/11 stretches not only across America, but around the world. And even if we have no immediate connection to those events here in Parker, SD, we feel a deep kinship with those who do: They are our brothers and sisters. And, moreover, most of us have at one time or another experienced loss, pain, and wounding. We know what it’s like when the heart is bleeding.
Remembrance begins with deep, personal identification. It begins with remembering the affliction of our brothers and sisters, and making their pain our own. There is a powerful biblical precedent for doing this. In today’s Scripture passage from Deuteronomy, the Israelites are given specific instructions on how they are to make offerings to God in the Promised Land. When future generations present a portion of their harvest to the priest, they are to remember and recite the story of how they were given their land.
“A wandering Syrian was my ancestor,” they say. They begin by identifying themselves with Jacob, the vulnerable, destitute, landless ancestor who sought refuge from famine in the land of Egypt. Then they tell his story, remembering that “he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in numbers, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous.”
So far, so good. But now it gets really interesting. The Israelites go on to say, “When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor on us, we cried to the Lord, the God of our ancestors.” Notice the shift: The people say, “When the Egyptians treats US harshly and afflicted US, by imposing hard labor on US.” The Israelites are not talking about Jacob anymore, they are talking about themselves. Even though none of these residents of the Promised Land experienced any of this affliction themselves, they remember it, and when they remember it, they make the pain of their ancestors their own. By remembering, they bring an event from the past into the present, and they do it in such a way that it has a powerful effect on the here and now.
They are saying, “I, too, am a slave in Egypt,” much like the students in the aftermath of the Columbine shooting said, “I am Columbine.” Whenever we begin with a deep and personal identification, we remember the past in a way that transforms the present and the future. The Israelites are being challenged to remember their affliction, just as we are doing today and the rest of this week. And when they do, they discover that they are not alone in their pain and suffering. No, they report that when they cried to the Lord, ‘The Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. The Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders.”
The people of God are never alone in their affliction. Not in ancient Israel. Not in the United States today. When God’s people cry to the Lord, He hears their voice and delivers them with a mighty hand. This is the first lesson of September 11, a lesson for today and for tomorrow. There is nothing that can destroy us as long as we put our faith in God.
Sure, we can be treated harshly and afflicted. We can be attacked by planes in the sky and anthrax in the mail. We can suffer the deaths of thousands of fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters. But when we cry to the Lord, God hears and God responds. This is a rock-solid foundational truth, dating back at least to the affliction of our ancestors in Egypt. It is so important for us to remember this, and by remembering it to make it real and active in our daily lives.
Notice, too, that the Israelites are challenged to recall that it was God who brought them into the Promised Land, “a land flowing with milk and honey.” Their land has come to them as a gift, and they are to treasure it and care for it and protect it as though it were a precious inheritance. The very same is true for us, as we reflect on the condition of our nation today. Are we treating it as a valuable gift, or are we taking it for granted? Are we treasuring it, or are we abusing it? Are we caring for it, or are we neglecting it? Are we protecting it, or are we exposing it to internal and external dangers?
This is the second lesson of September 11th, for the present and for the future: gratitude and generosity. Unless we consider this nation to be a precious gift from God, one with priceless freedoms and responsibilities and opportunities and resources, then we will lose one of the greatest treasures of our lives.
Today’s Scripture reminds us that we have a responsibility to respond to God’s generosity with gifts of our own. “You shall set your offering down before the Lord,” says Deuteronomy. “Then you, together with the Levites and the strangers who reside among you, shall celebrate with all the bounty that the Lord your God has given you.” It’s fascinating to see that even ancient Israel was a thoroughly multi-cultural society like our own today. The celebration that follows gift-giving was to include not just Israelites, but also, “the aliens who reside among you.”
The challenge for us today, even in the face of terrorist threats, is to remain a generous people. As Christians in America, we’ve been blessed by God, and so we are called to be a blessing to others, in bad times as well as good. In ancient Israel, gifts were required for the upkeep of the sanctuary servants, but also for three categories of needy persons: resident aliens, orphans and widows. Very few human needs have changed in the past 3,000 years, and our generous giving is still required if we are going to live in a global community in which the needs of the destitute are met.
The third lesson of September 11 may be this: justice. Unless we care for the poor of the world, and work for social justice, there will continue to be anger between classes and nations that can give rise to terrorist activity. As has been so clear in Israel this year, there can be no peace with out justice, and no harmony without concern for human life.
One year ago, we woke up to a beautiful day, and it nearly killed us. This week, as we remember those horrors, we can embrace the lessons of the day, renew our faith in God and rededicate ourselves to being His people.
Last year on September 14, Billy Graham said this at the National Day of Prayer and Remembrance in Washington, “Yes, our nation has been attacked, buildings destroyed, lives lost. But now we have a choice: whether to implode and disintegrate emotionally and spiritually as a people and a nation’ or whether we choose to become stronger through all the struggle to rebuild on a solid foundation. And I believe that we’re in the process of starting to rebuild on that foundation. That foundation is our trust in God.”
With the help of the Lord, the beautiful days to come will be full of life, not death.
