Rector’s Rambling – January 29, 2025
Rector’s Rambling – January 29, 2025
Numerous childhood diseases that were either eradicated or nearly eradicated are starting to infect more and more children in recent years. While it’s still a tiny percentage, it continues to grow yearly as more families seek exemptions from childhood vaccines that most of us received without a second thought. Despite the reality that most of the diseases we vaccinate for are deadly, especially for young children, parents are increasingly opting out. I recently read one explanation for the rise in unvaccinated or partially vaccinated children that I hadn’t really considered before: we’ve done such a good job eliminating certain diseases that almost no one can remember them anymore.
People have simply forgotten how scary such deadly diseases were at one time in history. Measles, for example, killed thousands of people a year before a vaccine became available almost a century ago. That’s after millions were infected annually, and many times, the number who died were seriously ill, including some cases that led to encephalitis. For those of us for whom measles or polio are more of a story from history than a lived experience, it simply does not generate a lot of concern. That sense of safety is precisely what allows some to forego vaccinations for elective reasons, trusting that it won’t be a problem.
For some reason, as I thought about the lack of remembering as a factor in this debate, I also considered the impact of remembering on one of the religious debates I noted in Sunday’s sermon. I mentioned that some consider the Episcopal Church to no longer center itself on the saving death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Instead, some detractors say we’ve left behind the Gospel of repentance for a mushy gospel of inclusion where everyone and everything is ok. As I explained in the sermon, that’s not entirely fair for a liturgical denomination that comes to the altar week after week for the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist.
We speak of the Eucharist as an act of anamnesis, or holy remembering. As we say or listen to the prayers at the Eucharist, we are hearing and mentally reenacting the events of the Last Supper and Christ’s suffering on the cross, his death, and his resurrection. The Eucharistic prayers tie Christ to the larger story of God’s people and the arc of the New Testament and use it as the foundation upon which the Church lives and moves, and has its being today. We partake of the Eucharist over and over again so that we really can’t forget it, even if we tried. That holy remembering is extremely important to understanding our approach to so many other aspects of our spiritual and religious lives.
When we are reminded of the events of the Last Supper week after week, it subtly reinforces the layered meaning of those events. It was not just a transactional cosmic event; it was also personal and quite human at the same time. Jesus’ sacrifice and death were acts of grace, not cheap grace, to be sure, but the radical grace of God that sent God’s son to bring salvation, not condemnation. It is that grace that is poured into the chalice at the Last Supper and onto the ground on the cross. Remembering that supper means remembering that as friends gathered around the table, Jesus was in the midst of his betrayer, his denier, doubters, and those too afraid for themselves to stand up for their rabbi when he was arrested. Despite knowing all that about his followers, Jesus still gave them the gift of new life and did not berate them for their lack of faith or sinful behaviors. He loved them to the end, as John’s Gospel says.
By reading and reenacting those moments, again and again, the way we do, it changes us. It takes away a deep fear and the uncertainty that comes from wondering if God really loves us. With a repetitious, cyclical reassurance of that grace, we stop focusing on ways to assure or earn our salvation. We stop worrying about others’ salvation, too, in many ways. We begin to trust what God has been saying in many ways for centuries. We begin to understand that Jesus always loved and healed people before addressing the question of worth. We start to realize that such freely given, unearned gifts are often what lead to faith and not the other way around. It’s true in the bible and in human lives today. The work of God’s Son – the work of our Savior – is unbinding, not binding; it is welcoming home the prodigals of this world, not casting them out; it is finding value in the very people the power structures of our societies (be they political or ecclesial) are hell-bent on diminishing and devaluing.
I’m not saying that non-liturgical churches don’t share that same understanding or know the love of God the way that we do. I’m not even saying we’re right or that they have forgotten – only that I KNOW we haven’t. I can say that when we pray it, sing it, eat it, and drink it over and over again, it changes us, and it changes the way we understand the work God is doing in our lives and the world. We remember. And that, in turn, changes the work we believe God calls us to do in our lives and for others. Our liturgical worship is not for everyone. Some find it boring and repetitive. Others feel we’re not “bible-based.” We may not treat the bible the same way some faiths do, but there is no denying that we are centered around scripture. Despite its flaws, our lectionary ensures we hear the vast arc of God’s story from all corners of the scripture and always hear about Jesus Christ from one of the Gospels. Our preachers don’t get the chance to stray too far from the Gospel, even when we want to.
We don’t get the opportunity to forget God’s grace and the incredible freedom that comes with it. We don’t take it for granted, and we trust in it. We don’t see it as a “get-out-of-hell-free” card, allowing us to do whatever we want, but as a personal invitation to strive to do better, always knowing nothing can separate us from the love of God. There are differences in the order of operation, but we believe that because we’ve been given the gift of God’s love found in Jesus Christ, we’re called to reshape our lives in response to it. We don’t reshape our lives or demand others to reshape theirs to attain it. It’s already ours and theirs. The gift always came first in the Gospels and still does. Again, we remember every single time we humbly come to the altar with our outstretched hands to receive the gift we know we aren’t worthy of and cannot earn, but we are given over and over again. In response, we offer our confession and praise to God every day that we draw breath but always trust in its veracity without fear. Our confession is essential to a right relationship with God but is not subjunctive. We believe in the assurance of absolution.
Ironically, one might use the example of diseases and vaccines to accuse churches who are no longer afraid of sin as having decided to opt out of the “vaccinations” of repentance to ward off the deadly wrath of God. I don’t think we’ve forgotten that the way people have forgotten deadly diseases. I believe we simply remember differently, or more precisely, how Jesus intends us to remember. When Jesus tells us to “do this in remembrance of” him, we do. The remembrance of Jesus is knowing that he is the vaccine, raised up like the staff Moses raised to treat snake bites in the wilderness, a symbol of healing to this day. That saving grace gives us the freedom from worry and the freedom to be fully alive.
There’s plenty we can and do forget. But if we’re going to remember one thing, above all else, remember that.
Tom+
Father of all, we give you thanks and praise, that when we were still far off you met us in your Son and brought us home. Dying and living, he declared your love, gave us grace, and opened the gate of glory. May we who share Christ’s body live his risen life; we who drink his cup bring life to others; we whom the Spirit lights give light to the world. Keep us firm in the hope you have set before us, so we and all your children shall be free, and the whole earth live to praise your name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.