Remember!
Stories
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle C
Object:
Oft in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me.1
Memories ... we like them ... and we need them. As those words of Thomas Moore remind us, we are comforted and instructed by them. That is why a day such as this is a good day.
Our text from Deuteronomy is Moses' instruction to the people of Israel on the establishment of a Thanksgiving tradition once they enter into the promised land. Get in there, work the land, plant, water, harvest, then bring the firstfruits to the priest as an offering before God. This is the harbinger of Israel's celebration of the Feast of Weeks (Deuteronomy17:9-12). Included is an ancient affirmation of faith that has become familiar in its recitation: "My father was a wandering Aramean ..." with the account of the sojourn in Egypt, cruel slavery, miraculous deliverance, and a new home in a land "flowing with milk and honey." The message apparently is that to be truly thankful, we have to remember and then remember some more.
Memories are important to us: They tell us who we are and from whence we have come; they remind us why we do what we do; and finally, they spur us on in the direction we need to go. In Macbeth, Shakespeare called memory "the warder of the brain," the keeper, the watchman. With all that memory can do for us, it is an apt description.
Sometime back someone sent me the biographical sketch of a man, the Reverend Samuel Suther, a minister of the German Reformed Church in North Carolina in pre-revolutionary days. He had been born in Switzerland in 1722 and emigrated to America in 1739. Apparently, he was quite the firebrand in advocating a break with the English king, and as such, got himself into all sorts of difficulties. He sounded like an interesting character, but I doubt that I would have given him much more than passing curiosity except for the fact that there was included in his story a list of his children. It turns out that Reverend Samuel Suther was my great-great-great-grandfather. That knowledge puts no money in my pocket, no eggs on my table; it accords me no special honor, but I am glad to have it. It gives me a sense of my own roots, who I am and from whence I have come (new memories), and is another reminder that preaching runs in the family.
It has been said that people trace their genealogies back to either kings or horse thieves and then stop. Who they were and what they did challenge us to either live up to them or live them down. Our heritage becomes the shaper of our lives.
Our religious heritage does the same. None of us could say we are where we are in our faith journey regardless of any spiritual influence that has come from our past. We look back to godly mothers and fathers, to sensitive Sunday school teachers, or an understanding pastor who took us under their wing. Because of them, we learned that we are not here by accident -- we were created in the image of God and have work to do, to "have dominion over," to manage God's creation. By the grace of God, our mentors continued to teach us, and we were led to a new life in Jesus Christ. Our past has very much determined our present. That is why knowing who we are depends on knowing from whence we have come.
One of the most valuable parts of our heritage is that it gives us reasons for doing what we do. If we look back to the Reformers -- the Calvins and Luthers and Zwinglis -- we see a tremendous break. They rejected the practices of the Roman church of their day because they said the church had forgotten her roots. They went back to the teachings of scripture and pointed out how far the church had strayed from historic Christian practice. Needless to say, they encountered violent opposition, but they remained firm in their convictions and the result is the protestant tradition in which so many of us have grown up. We are what we are because of our memories of the past.
Sometimes, our memories force us to make changes in the ways we do things. Take worship, for example. In my own Presbyterian tradition, what we do today is very different from what might have been done in Presbyterian churches 150 years ago. There was hardly any congregational participation. The sermon would have been three times longer than what we are used to. The prayers would have been eight times longer, and worshipers would be standing while those prayers were delivered. The pew would have been even more uncomfortable than pews usually are. Since that combination could be more conducive to sleep than to worship, ushers were equipped with long poles fitted out with brass knobs on one end to nudge the nodding men and feathers on the other to tickle the dozing ladies. People came to hate Sundays and those bad memories convinced us that changes had to be made. The result of those changes was much less long-windedness on the part of the preacher and much more participation from the congregation during the worship hour. Our memories have shaped what we do.
Even more important, the memories that we have show us the direction in which we need to be headed as we move into the future. Those are the memories of:
* what God has done for us in creating us and giving us a job to do.
* what Jesus did for us by entering into human history.
* what Jesus did by taking our sins upon himself to the cross.
* our religious tradition as handed down from the Reformers.
* parents and friends who nurtured us in the faith.
If we ever forget who we are, where we have come from, why we do what we do, and what we need to do as we travel the road, the danger is that we will flounder. The challenge on this day of Thanksgiving is a simple one ... remember!
____________
1. "Oft In The Stilly Night," Stanza 1, words by Thomas Moore, 1817. In the public domain.
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me.1
Memories ... we like them ... and we need them. As those words of Thomas Moore remind us, we are comforted and instructed by them. That is why a day such as this is a good day.
Our text from Deuteronomy is Moses' instruction to the people of Israel on the establishment of a Thanksgiving tradition once they enter into the promised land. Get in there, work the land, plant, water, harvest, then bring the firstfruits to the priest as an offering before God. This is the harbinger of Israel's celebration of the Feast of Weeks (Deuteronomy17:9-12). Included is an ancient affirmation of faith that has become familiar in its recitation: "My father was a wandering Aramean ..." with the account of the sojourn in Egypt, cruel slavery, miraculous deliverance, and a new home in a land "flowing with milk and honey." The message apparently is that to be truly thankful, we have to remember and then remember some more.
Memories are important to us: They tell us who we are and from whence we have come; they remind us why we do what we do; and finally, they spur us on in the direction we need to go. In Macbeth, Shakespeare called memory "the warder of the brain," the keeper, the watchman. With all that memory can do for us, it is an apt description.
Sometime back someone sent me the biographical sketch of a man, the Reverend Samuel Suther, a minister of the German Reformed Church in North Carolina in pre-revolutionary days. He had been born in Switzerland in 1722 and emigrated to America in 1739. Apparently, he was quite the firebrand in advocating a break with the English king, and as such, got himself into all sorts of difficulties. He sounded like an interesting character, but I doubt that I would have given him much more than passing curiosity except for the fact that there was included in his story a list of his children. It turns out that Reverend Samuel Suther was my great-great-great-grandfather. That knowledge puts no money in my pocket, no eggs on my table; it accords me no special honor, but I am glad to have it. It gives me a sense of my own roots, who I am and from whence I have come (new memories), and is another reminder that preaching runs in the family.
It has been said that people trace their genealogies back to either kings or horse thieves and then stop. Who they were and what they did challenge us to either live up to them or live them down. Our heritage becomes the shaper of our lives.
Our religious heritage does the same. None of us could say we are where we are in our faith journey regardless of any spiritual influence that has come from our past. We look back to godly mothers and fathers, to sensitive Sunday school teachers, or an understanding pastor who took us under their wing. Because of them, we learned that we are not here by accident -- we were created in the image of God and have work to do, to "have dominion over," to manage God's creation. By the grace of God, our mentors continued to teach us, and we were led to a new life in Jesus Christ. Our past has very much determined our present. That is why knowing who we are depends on knowing from whence we have come.
One of the most valuable parts of our heritage is that it gives us reasons for doing what we do. If we look back to the Reformers -- the Calvins and Luthers and Zwinglis -- we see a tremendous break. They rejected the practices of the Roman church of their day because they said the church had forgotten her roots. They went back to the teachings of scripture and pointed out how far the church had strayed from historic Christian practice. Needless to say, they encountered violent opposition, but they remained firm in their convictions and the result is the protestant tradition in which so many of us have grown up. We are what we are because of our memories of the past.
Sometimes, our memories force us to make changes in the ways we do things. Take worship, for example. In my own Presbyterian tradition, what we do today is very different from what might have been done in Presbyterian churches 150 years ago. There was hardly any congregational participation. The sermon would have been three times longer than what we are used to. The prayers would have been eight times longer, and worshipers would be standing while those prayers were delivered. The pew would have been even more uncomfortable than pews usually are. Since that combination could be more conducive to sleep than to worship, ushers were equipped with long poles fitted out with brass knobs on one end to nudge the nodding men and feathers on the other to tickle the dozing ladies. People came to hate Sundays and those bad memories convinced us that changes had to be made. The result of those changes was much less long-windedness on the part of the preacher and much more participation from the congregation during the worship hour. Our memories have shaped what we do.
Even more important, the memories that we have show us the direction in which we need to be headed as we move into the future. Those are the memories of:
* what God has done for us in creating us and giving us a job to do.
* what Jesus did for us by entering into human history.
* what Jesus did by taking our sins upon himself to the cross.
* our religious tradition as handed down from the Reformers.
* parents and friends who nurtured us in the faith.
If we ever forget who we are, where we have come from, why we do what we do, and what we need to do as we travel the road, the danger is that we will flounder. The challenge on this day of Thanksgiving is a simple one ... remember!
____________
1. "Oft In The Stilly Night," Stanza 1, words by Thomas Moore, 1817. In the public domain.
