Most of us remember that beautiful, clear day in September 15 years ago that became 9/11.
We remember the way we heard of the horror. We remember the images on TV.
We remember the way you could see smoke
from lower Manhattan as you drove down Northfield, or Rt. 10, or Eagle Rock.
We remember the stories of survival.
We remember those who didn’t survive.
There are so many poignant images that flood into our minds when we say, “September 11th, or 9/11”—but one of the most indelible for me were those walls of pictures. The desperate searching for those “lost.”
That was the image that flashed into my mind as I realized that September 11th was a Sunday, and that the lectionary reading for the day was from Luke 15.
We know what it looks, what it sounds like, to be scouring the region for that one special one--be it lamb or coin or person. I’m not trying to be morbid or sad. With all the emotions of today, I want us to remember that God searches with that intensity, with that anguish, with that tenacity, for each and every one, for each and everything that is lost.
Scholars identify at least 7 creation stories in our Old Testament (Two in Genesis—1:1-2:3 and 2:4-3:24, Job 38-41, Proverbs 8:22-31, Ecclesiastes 1:2-11, excerpts from Isaiah 40-55, and our focus scripture for the day, Psalm 104). Each has its own flavor.
In Psalm 104 the creation “is joyously nurtured by God,” and works as an interconnected whole.
God provides food for each (animal and human).
God provides places to live—
like the trees of Lebanon for birds,
and fir trees for the stork,
the high mountains for the wild goats,
and the rocks for the coneys
(small, shy, furry creatures of the Sinai).
Time is marked by sun and moon,
darkness and light,
work and rest.
And God provides for body and soul—
wine to gladden the human heart,
oil to make the face shine,
bread to strengthen the human heart.
This is what God intended. This is what should be. But sometimes we lose our way. Sometimes we deviate from the beautifully intertwined order of things. This is why Seasons of the Spirit and other liturgies ask us to spend time each year thinking about creation. Thinking about God’s interconnected world. Thinking about how we fit into it. Thinking about our place in the scheme of things.
In Psalm 104’s creation we humans have no greater or higher position than the birds or the fish or the land animals. We are not named stewards of the earth, able to use it as we see fit. We are part of a whole, all of it God’s domain.
From this perspective, I wonder if God searches for the trees that have taken hundreds, maybe thousands of years to grow, but are being felled in the Amazon. I wonder if God searches for whole species that have lost their habitats and cease to exist. I wonder if God searches for the rivers and streams that die after strip mining. I wonder if God searches for clean air, clean water, pristine land. I wonder. Thomas Merton and Kathleen Deignan muse about this as well in A Book of Hours (p. 71-72)
The special clumsy beauty of this particular colt on this day in this field under these clouds is a holiness consecrated to God by [God’s] own creative wisdom and it declares the glory of God.
The pale flowers of the dogwood outside of this window are saints looking up into the face of God.
This leaf has its own texture and its own pattern of veins and its own holy shape,
and the bass and trout hiding in the deep pools of the river are canonized by their beauty and their strength.
The lakes hidden among the hills are saints, and the sea too is a saint who praises God without interruption in her majestic dance.
The great, gashed half-naked mountain is another of God’s saints.
There is no other like him. He is alone in his own character; nothing else in the world ever did or ever will imitate God in quite the same way.
That is his sanctity.
But what about you? What about me?
We each have our unique part to play in this world that God has created. Not more important than any other, but no less either. We are each indispensable to the whole.
That is why we turn the house upside down if we have lost something precious.
That is why we would go to the ends of the earth to find a loved one, if we could.
That is how God regards us, each and every one of us, Jesus says.
That is how precious our world is to God, Psalm 104 says.
So on this special day in our hearts, let us remember what we lost from this world.
Let us be awed by all the bravery, and kindness, and sacrifice that 9/11 engendered.
Let us be comforted knowing that God’s creation rests in God’s hands, yesterday, today, and forever.
And let us be renewed in our calling
To be the one-of-a-kind masterpieces we were created to be
To know our connection to all things
And to participate in God’s never-ceasing love that searches out the lost,
all the lost,
until they are found.
May it be so, Alleluia, Amen.
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