Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost 2005

Site Meter tells me this title was getting quite a few Google queries lately. It didn't occur to me why, until I picked up the service bulletin this Sunday, and realized what the day was.

The previous post with this title was a sermon I gave in 2001. A sermon about 9/11.

If I were preaching today, what would I say? Perhaps the sermon below. Probably something entirely different; but the sermon below, it seems to me, has the right tone, the right sense of awe and despair in the face of ultimate mystery. That's not a comfortable answer, especially in this age; it's not meant to be. We got a nice serving of mystery this morning, in the Eucharist.

I led the prayers of the people (quite by coincidence), and suddenly these familiar words took on new meaning:

For all people in their daily life and work;
For our families, friends, and neighbors, and for those who are alone.

For this community, the nation, and the world;
For all who work for justice, freedom, and peace.

For the just and proper use of your creation;
For the victims of hunger, fear, injustice, and oppression.

For all who are in danger, sorrow, or any kind of trouble;
For those who minister to the sick, the friendless, and the needy.

There is Louisiana, and Mississippi, and New Orleans, in a nutshell; with Houston thrown in for good measure. The Rector and the Postulant for Holy Orders (a woman in training for the Diaconate) told us all about going down to the Astrodome: about what was needed and how we could help. The Rector, a trained counselor, did triage, sorting out people who needed psychiatric help (medications), from those who needed psychological help. And he told us to give new clothes, not used ones. He knew we could afford it. He told us it made all the difference to shattered pride and self-esteem to open a package of fresh clothes, not cast-offs from someone else. They were ministering to the sick, the friendless, the needy; soon, we all would be.

The people there were the victims of hunger, fear, injustice, and oppression. Could that be more clear? And we had failed in the just and proper use of God's creation, allowing the wet lands of southern Louisiana to disappear, and take places like Slidell and New Orleans with it. And now, what daily life and work would those people have? And how would we help them?

And then the Rector slipped this preface into the Eucharistic Prayer:

"For by water and the Holy Spirit you have made us a new people in Jesus Christ our Lord, to show forth your glory in all the world."

An interesting choice, under the circumstances. Think about too long, it becomes a challenging choice. Water has certainly made us all a new people, but to show forth God's glory? Should we even go there?

The wonderful power of mystery. There is even something comforting in it. Water is life. Water is death. New life from death? High price to pay. We like to say our soldiers should not die in vain. Will we say the same for our fellow citizens?