September 6, 2011
Dear St. Paul’s Family,
Do you remember where you were on Monday, September 10, 2001?
No? Me neither. In fact, most of that day was largely forgettable; just another day in the office. The news headlines at the time were also fairly unremarkable: Time magazine had done yet another story about disgraced senator Gary Condit and the mysterious disappearance of Chandra Levy. Michael Jackson had just rung the bell to open up a day of trading on Wall Street. And famed motorist Rodney King was pulled over and charged with drug possession.
Just another typical day in America.
A DAY TO REMEMBER
But then came Tuesday. I suppose it would take very little to jog your memory about where you were and what you were doing that morning. I was dropping my then 6-month old daughter Grace off at her daycare when her caregiver stopped me at the door to ask if I had heard the news. We gathered with other preschool workers around a grainy, black and white television to watch the unfolding saga.
I rushed off to the office and assembled with the rest of the church staff, spending a large part of the morning with them in the chapel in prayer. News updates trickled in as we gathered: a collision in the Pentagon, a crash in Pennsylvania. Like all of you, we felt stunned, heartsick, and numb.
Later that evening, we held a prayer service for the congregation and the community, and the chapel was filled with watery-eyed, shell-shocked people, who attempted to express the unutterable anguish they were feeling. Some prayed tearfully for the victims and their families, particularly those who were still missing. Others prayed for the volunteers and officials on the scene. A few confessed their own anger, searching for ways to stem their instincts for revenge. Someone even prayed for the Muslims in our city, that they would not be subject to unfair prejudice. The tears flowed freely that night.
JESUS CRIED TWICE
The task of preaching that first Sunday after 9/11 was a formidable one. I remember standing before a congregation in the chapel preaching on two texts: John 11:28-37 (the death of Lazarus) and Luke 19:41-44 (Jesus outside Jerusalem). The connection between the two texts was eminently clear: these are two of the only times in the gospels where Jesus is recorded as weeping. But the connection between those texts and the emotional burdens of 9/11 were even more profound.
When reflecting on Jesus’ tears upon hearing of the unexpected death of his dear friend Lazarus, I said the following:
It is appropriate to cry. Jesus’ weeping over the death of Lazarus suggests to us that weeping over the death of any part of God’s creation is itself a divine action. We need not suppress the tears, we need not cover up our deep feelings of anger, bitterness, confusion, or grief. To be emotionally open in the midst of suffering does not mean a lack of faith in God; indeed, crying with grief is a reflection of the Divine. God weeps even today, and so may we.
Jesus’ tears were real and raw, much like the grief shared by the congregation that day. But in John, we see Jesus crying for a very different reason. Rather than grieving the loss of innocent life, Jesus stood on the outskirts of a city in chaos, bemoaning their demise, and longing for the people to follow the path that leads to peace: As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, "If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. (Luke 19:41-42)
And so, in that same sermon, I offered these words:
God weeps today because we do not live in a place remotely close to the kind of place God is working to create. This world does not exist according to the kingdom values of peace, equality, justice, compassion, and love. The countries of this world have busied themselves with building up their self-aggrandizing, political, economic, and military machines. Without a hint of cooperation or compassion between them, nations have risen against nation, becoming guilty of that very thing which Jesus wept over outside Jerusalem: “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.”
If Jesus’ tears in John were born of grief, the tears in Luke were forged from a deep desire for justice and peace. And in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, God shared both kinds of tears for both of those reasons. The people of faith came together to hear words that both comfort and challenge, from a God who both empathizes with our deepest anguish and calls us to a higher hope.
And now, as we gather ten years later, both kinds of tears are appropriate once again.
THIS SUNDAY: REMEMBRANCE AND RECOMMITMENT
Much has certainly changed in the past ten years. The raw anguish has largely abated, and our news headlines today are more about economics, politics, and celebrity tabloids rather than our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. And as much as we shared the same feelings after 9/11, we are now a country quite polarized along multiple ideological fault lines. There will be those on this tenth anniversary who will want to criticize our country for its past and present decisions. There will be those on the other hand who will want to “wrap the cross with the flag” under the jingoistic notion of civil religion. And there are many, many people on the spectrum in between.
It is therefore quite appropriate that the tenth anniversary of 9/11 falls on a Sunday, and critically important for us to do what we did ten years ago: gather together. For though there now may be differences of opinion throughout the country on how to respond to 9/11, the church must do what it always does: come together, hear the biblical accounts of God’s activity throughout history, and remember our calling as God’s people to promote justice and work for peace in a hurting world.
This Sunday, we will turn to the book of Nehemiah, and hear the story of how the Israelites returned to the site of abject tragedy – the destruction of their beloved Temple by a foreign empire seventy years prior – and began the work of rebuilding both their lives and their sense of community. The contemporary connections to this passage are quite clear, and we will ask the question, “What have we learned since 9/11?” We’ll hear some valuable lessons from the great reformer Ezra, who led the Israelites to a sincere recommitment to God. It is a text that I believe has a profound message for us on this special anniversary.
Finally, on a personal note, let me tell you how much I am looking forward to rejoining you after an immensely rewarding, life-altering renewal period. Over the weeks and months to come, I’ll steadily share with you how the experience abroad will shape my life and our ministry together. In the meantime, I am deeply grateful for your support, prayers, and your warm welcomes as we return to St. Paul’s and the good people of Cherokee. (And, may I add, it feels great to be back in the rhythm of writing these Mid-Week Messages to you!)
Now, more than ever, it is good to be the church. Let’s gather together in solemn remembrance, and work together for peace.
Grace and Peace,
Magrey
Dear St. Paul’s Family,
Do you remember where you were on Monday, September 10, 2001?
No? Me neither. In fact, most of that day was largely forgettable; just another day in the office. The news headlines at the time were also fairly unremarkable: Time magazine had done yet another story about disgraced senator Gary Condit and the mysterious disappearance of Chandra Levy. Michael Jackson had just rung the bell to open up a day of trading on Wall Street. And famed motorist Rodney King was pulled over and charged with drug possession.
Just another typical day in America.
A DAY TO REMEMBER
But then came Tuesday. I suppose it would take very little to jog your memory about where you were and what you were doing that morning. I was dropping my then 6-month old daughter Grace off at her daycare when her caregiver stopped me at the door to ask if I had heard the news. We gathered with other preschool workers around a grainy, black and white television to watch the unfolding saga.
I rushed off to the office and assembled with the rest of the church staff, spending a large part of the morning with them in the chapel in prayer. News updates trickled in as we gathered: a collision in the Pentagon, a crash in Pennsylvania. Like all of you, we felt stunned, heartsick, and numb.
Later that evening, we held a prayer service for the congregation and the community, and the chapel was filled with watery-eyed, shell-shocked people, who attempted to express the unutterable anguish they were feeling. Some prayed tearfully for the victims and their families, particularly those who were still missing. Others prayed for the volunteers and officials on the scene. A few confessed their own anger, searching for ways to stem their instincts for revenge. Someone even prayed for the Muslims in our city, that they would not be subject to unfair prejudice. The tears flowed freely that night.
JESUS CRIED TWICE
The task of preaching that first Sunday after 9/11 was a formidable one. I remember standing before a congregation in the chapel preaching on two texts: John 11:28-37 (the death of Lazarus) and Luke 19:41-44 (Jesus outside Jerusalem). The connection between the two texts was eminently clear: these are two of the only times in the gospels where Jesus is recorded as weeping. But the connection between those texts and the emotional burdens of 9/11 were even more profound.
When reflecting on Jesus’ tears upon hearing of the unexpected death of his dear friend Lazarus, I said the following:
It is appropriate to cry. Jesus’ weeping over the death of Lazarus suggests to us that weeping over the death of any part of God’s creation is itself a divine action. We need not suppress the tears, we need not cover up our deep feelings of anger, bitterness, confusion, or grief. To be emotionally open in the midst of suffering does not mean a lack of faith in God; indeed, crying with grief is a reflection of the Divine. God weeps even today, and so may we.
Jesus’ tears were real and raw, much like the grief shared by the congregation that day. But in John, we see Jesus crying for a very different reason. Rather than grieving the loss of innocent life, Jesus stood on the outskirts of a city in chaos, bemoaning their demise, and longing for the people to follow the path that leads to peace: As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, "If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. (Luke 19:41-42)
And so, in that same sermon, I offered these words:
God weeps today because we do not live in a place remotely close to the kind of place God is working to create. This world does not exist according to the kingdom values of peace, equality, justice, compassion, and love. The countries of this world have busied themselves with building up their self-aggrandizing, political, economic, and military machines. Without a hint of cooperation or compassion between them, nations have risen against nation, becoming guilty of that very thing which Jesus wept over outside Jerusalem: “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.”
If Jesus’ tears in John were born of grief, the tears in Luke were forged from a deep desire for justice and peace. And in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, God shared both kinds of tears for both of those reasons. The people of faith came together to hear words that both comfort and challenge, from a God who both empathizes with our deepest anguish and calls us to a higher hope.
And now, as we gather ten years later, both kinds of tears are appropriate once again.
THIS SUNDAY: REMEMBRANCE AND RECOMMITMENT
Much has certainly changed in the past ten years. The raw anguish has largely abated, and our news headlines today are more about economics, politics, and celebrity tabloids rather than our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. And as much as we shared the same feelings after 9/11, we are now a country quite polarized along multiple ideological fault lines. There will be those on this tenth anniversary who will want to criticize our country for its past and present decisions. There will be those on the other hand who will want to “wrap the cross with the flag” under the jingoistic notion of civil religion. And there are many, many people on the spectrum in between.
It is therefore quite appropriate that the tenth anniversary of 9/11 falls on a Sunday, and critically important for us to do what we did ten years ago: gather together. For though there now may be differences of opinion throughout the country on how to respond to 9/11, the church must do what it always does: come together, hear the biblical accounts of God’s activity throughout history, and remember our calling as God’s people to promote justice and work for peace in a hurting world.
This Sunday, we will turn to the book of Nehemiah, and hear the story of how the Israelites returned to the site of abject tragedy – the destruction of their beloved Temple by a foreign empire seventy years prior – and began the work of rebuilding both their lives and their sense of community. The contemporary connections to this passage are quite clear, and we will ask the question, “What have we learned since 9/11?” We’ll hear some valuable lessons from the great reformer Ezra, who led the Israelites to a sincere recommitment to God. It is a text that I believe has a profound message for us on this special anniversary.
Finally, on a personal note, let me tell you how much I am looking forward to rejoining you after an immensely rewarding, life-altering renewal period. Over the weeks and months to come, I’ll steadily share with you how the experience abroad will shape my life and our ministry together. In the meantime, I am deeply grateful for your support, prayers, and your warm welcomes as we return to St. Paul’s and the good people of Cherokee. (And, may I add, it feels great to be back in the rhythm of writing these Mid-Week Messages to you!)
Now, more than ever, it is good to be the church. Let’s gather together in solemn remembrance, and work together for peace.
Grace and Peace,
Magrey
The Rev. Magrey R. deVega
St. Paul's United Methodist Church
531 W. Main St.
Cherokee, IA 51012
Ph: 712-225-3955
email: mdevega@cherokeespumc.org
http://www.cherokeespumc.org
http://www.cherokeespumc.org
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