All My Hope on God is Founded

September 11, 2005 (Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 19)

By The Very Rev. Terry White, Dean

• Ecclesiasticus 27:30-28:7
• Psalm 103 or 103:8-13
• Romans 14:5-12
• Matthew 18:21-35

(From The Lectionary Page)

English composer Herbert Howells was one of the great church music composers of the twentieth century. Born in 1892, an older sister first taught him piano and in his youth he assisted his father at the organ of a local Baptist chapel. At age eleven, he joined the choir of the local Anglican Church. His musical talent was recognized and his career took off with great promise. In 1915 at the age of twenty-three, he developed a severe case of hyperthyroidism or Graves Disease and was given six months to live. He agreed to take part in an experimental treatment program and took radium treatments twice a week for two years. The treatments proved to be effective as he lived to the age of ninety.

In 1920, Howells was married, and he and his wife had two children: a daughter, Ursula, was born, and a son, Michael.

Flash forward nine years after the birth of his son. Tuesday, September 3, 1935, nine year-old Michael had been busy mowing the lawn. He began to feel unwell that evening and was sent to bed early. The next day he was clearly ill with fever, chills, and a "bad back." The following day his illness was grave and Michael was transferred to London, no easy trick in 1935. There he was diagnosed with a severe case of bulbar polio and died within twenty-fours of arriving in London.

Michael was buried on September 11, 1935. As an adult, his sister Ursula remembered the days and months immediately following Michael's death. She said, “My father (Herbert) was an extremely emotional person. I don't know what he was like religiously before Michael's death, but afterwards, every weekend we left London and went to Gloucester. We used to live in church. But not after Michael died.”

During this time, Ursula, having observed her inconsolable and ever grieving father and hearing him doubt God, suggested that he should write about Michael in music. Herbert Howells wrote a new hymn tune for the text “All My Hope on God Is Founded." Hymnus Paradisi, an English Mass, debuted fifteen years later. For most of the rest of his life, Howells wrote moving church music, which some say has a unique way of reaching the soul. Despite Howell's doubt about a merciful God, it seems that his son's death allowed the love of God to be expressed through his music.

Our final hymn this morning will be “All My Hope on God is Founded,” and you will note that the name of the hymn tune is “Michael.”

When experiencing tragedy, anger, and heartache, there comes a time when one must make choices:

• Will I respond with vengeance or forgiveness?
• Will I be consumed by hatred or be motivated by something higher?
• Will I merely exist and never emerge from the pain, or will I allow my woundedness to give way to new life, that I might become an agent of healing?

For Herbert Howells, September 11, 1935 was the day his world changed. September 11, 2001 is the day the world changed for all of us. In the four years since those godless acts of terrorism and violence which killed hundreds, and have resulted in hundreds of additional deaths since, we have faced choices as individuals, as a nation, and as the Church about how to respond to anger, death and grief. Because of Sept 11, some say that God seems too distant, too uncaring, too cruel. For others, since that day God has very much been present in the choices that have been made, especially in choosing to forgive and build peace.

This morning we gather for Eucharist and pray for strength and courage to respond in a Godly manner, in the way that Jesus called blessed: to become peacemakers. But in order to make peace, we must first forgive, and that in turn means that we must begin the process by dealing honestly with anger.

As Archbishop of Cape Town, Desmond Tutu chaired for a time South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Father Desmond said, “To forgive is a process that does not exclude hate and anger. These emotions are all part of being human. You should never hate yourself for hating others who do terrible things; [but] the depth of your love is shown by the extent of your anger.”

The Archbishop reminds us of our responsibility to create peace through forgiveness. Tutu stresses that, “When I talk of forgiveness, I mean the belief that you can come out the other side a better person. A better person than the one being consumed by anger and hatred.”

Until we find in ourselves the capacity to forgive, we continue to be linked to the cause of our anger and our unforgiving emotions. Only as we forgive are we able to move on and become the more Christ-like person that God has called us to be. (Harry Denman, Sermons that Work, for 9/11/05)

The Gospel lesson for today is about forgiveness. Peter asks, “Do I forgive seven times?” Jesus’ response is simple and devastating: Not seven times, but seventy times seven. Jesus takes Peter’s question, one we have all asked God—“How many times do I forgive?” – to a whole new realm. Jesus says adopt a forgiving disposition. We are to forgive not only in specific moments and circumstances, but become a forgiving people. The Church is to be a community of forgiveness. In terms of the parable, because God has forgiven a debt that I can never repay, then I must extend such forgiveness to others. (H. O’Driscoll, The Word Today, Year A Volume 3, pp. 121-2.) As Desmond Tutu says, I must forgive or else I am consumed by anger or hatred.

Following September 11, 2001, our nation experienced anew caring for our neighbors. People gave of their money, energy, and prayers to support those most affected. St. Paul’s Chapel near Ground Zero was a center for weeping and grief, and for fostering forgiveness and releasing hatred. Slowly, the shock and anger and grief ebbed. Rebuilding began, and not only with bricks and mortar. But today, four years later, can we say that our nation has forgiven? As recently as a few weeks I saw a chilling bumper sticker reading: September 11: Never forget, never forgive. Are we still in danger as a nation of being consumed by hatred?

On this fourth anniversary, our attention is focused on another devastating event. This time there is no enemy to hate, but Hurricane Katrina has not only left many dead and billions of dollars of damage in its wake, but has also spawned intense storms of anger and hate. Sisters and brothers are crying out and asking: “If I am of a race different than yours, or belong to a different economic, educational, or social class, or if I live in a place you would not choose to live – does that mean that my needs are not of the highest priority for you? Am I less your neighbor?” May those survivors and evacuees work through their anger so that they can forgive and not be consumed.

This morning we face another kind of devastation here in Kansas City. Headlines scream out that the number of murders this year is rising at an alarming rate. The very phrase “rising at an alarming rate” indicates that perhaps we too easily accept that murder is part of this city. September 11th seemed like the right time to strengthen our resolve to be peacemakers.

As the clergy and canon musician planned today’s liturgy we asked ourselves what we hoped to accomplish. We began by naming two things we didn’t want to happen. 1) That the grieving families of both the murder victims and of those accused in these crimes would not feel mistreated by what we do today. I wish to emphasize that most strongly. And if what we are doing today is in fact clumsy, I apologize and commit us to learning how we could better address this issue. 2) We did not want this liturgy to be an end in itself. There needs to be a next step.

So, what do we hope happens today?

First, as the People of God we must confront indifference to these murders. By praying publicly for victims and perpetrators, by visually expressing the horrendous number of lives ended, by raising our own awareness within the celebration of the Sunday Eucharist, we are saying that we will not ignore what is happening to our neighbors and in our neighborhoods. As a community of reconciliation we commit to fight indifference.

Second, at the foundation of such crime is injustice and despair. We recommit ourselves to ministries of hope. The Kansas City Community Kitchen is such a place of hope. For the final days of August, the Kitchen served in excess of 600 meals each day. Those who are fed receive more than food: they are respected, for a short time they are safe and welcomed, and we must not forget that such ministry certainly has the potential to prevent violence to people and property. The cathedral’s emergency assistance program, which provides money for rent and essential utilities, is also a lifeline, and by relieving some financial distress, certainly some violence of some kind is prevented.

Third, at the heart of our ministry as the cathedral is worship. It is essential that the Holy Eucharist be celebrated here six days a week. As the Cathedral, the whole city is our parish. As we pray and offer the Eucharistic sacrifice, the Real Presence of Jesus is found in the Sacrament of His Body and Blood, and in the hearts of his faithful people. At baptism we pledge to seek and serve Christ in all people, and that commitment must grow stronger. Practically speaking, the lives of those ended by violence here in Kansas City will be remembered with candles and prayers. We are called to incarnate forgiveness and peace, so we must first know God’s forgiveness and peace.

My sisters and brothers, today many will ache in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania, and many will ache outside of New Orleans, Gulfport, and Biloxi. And because of violence many people will ache in our city.

But God is faithful. 70 years ago today, Herbert Howells ached as he buried his son Michael. He did not deny his grief and pain, but worked through it to create a way to share God’s love and hope with generations to come. On September 11, 2001, numbed by disbelief and anger, people flocked to houses of worship to hear that God was with them, and did not give up, but immediately responded to their brothers and sisters who needed hope and aid. The day following Hurricane Katrina hitting land, we began praying for those most affected here at the daily Eucharist, and we began organizing ways to ease the pain of people throughout the Gulf Coast.

Today, September 11, 2005, let us also respond immediately, compassionately and concretely to the pain caused by violence in our city. Let us pray without ceasing. Let us make the choice not to be consumed by hatred or indifference. Let us build peace in our neighborhoods, fight indifference, and intensify our commitment to eradicate the causes of despair and injustice. We must not stand by and let our nation or our city be consumed by hatred.

Let us be peacemakers! With our deeds, let us say “so be it.” And as I ask you at every baptism, I ask to hear you boldly respond: “Let God’s people say ‘Amen!’ ”

AMEN!