What is the opposite of remember?

[Forget?]

Well, in a sense, the opposite of remember is to forget. We do a lot of remembering in church, but what we are doing is not simply not-forgetting. Neither are we simply calling to mind.

For the sake of this sermon, I invite you to consider that for the type of remembering that we do in church, the opposite of re-member is to dis-member.

When we re-member, which is the kind of remembering that we do habitually in church, we are not so much calling things to mind but calling things together. Putting the pieces of this fragmented and fractured world together again. Putting the members back together in a way which makes some kind of sense of the often cruel and difficult world in which we live.

Way of thinking about remembering might be rather odd to you, so take a moment to let that sink in. Putting things back together.

Re-membering is o­ne of the keys to the kind of religious faith which we proclaim day by day and week by week here in St Saviour?s. And it is a little different to the way in which some churches think of remembering.

For many in the churches, remembering is just that ? calling to mind something which would otherwise be forgotten. If you get into conversation with someone from the church of Scotland, for example, and discuss what is happening at communion, you may well find that a strong theme is the remembering, the keeping in mind of an event.

When, in this kind of Episcopal church we think of remembering at the Eucharist, we have a sense of calling together all the  church through the ages ? putting the members together at the altar table in worship of the Lord of Eternity. When I celebrate the Eucharist, I do it celebrating not just in the here and now but as the priest at every table where thanks are offered and songs of worship sung. There is something cosmic ? yes, cosmic about speaking the words of the Eucharist ? remembering the o­ne who at table with friends gave thanks to God, explained the scriptures, prayed for his friends and shared bread and wine.

When we do that in the Eucharist ? it comes alive again. Those elements of that sacred meal are re-membered, not just remembered. They are brought together again. And we worship with Christ in the divine present. The Lord Jesus is the o­ne who celebrates the feast and invites all who are willing to come and share.

That kind of remembering ? making present, calling together by telling stories has been the stock in trade of the Christian church throughout all the ages.

The early church gathered itself together amidst great persecution. The members were scattered. The members were o­n trial. The members were often killed, harmed, imprisoned. Re-membering the members of the Body of Christ did not simply mean not-forgetting them, but the very knitting together of a church which would o­ne day cloak the world.

When we pray for others now, we do the same. Not just calling them to mind, but weaving within ourselves a blanket of goodwill which is ever increasing, ever extending, growing in the present and expanding into the future ? a blanket of care providing warmth for all of God?s creatures.

Prayer is o­ne way we re-member. o­ne way we knit together. Telling stories is another. After I was preaching about funerals and death last week, quite a lot of you told me stories. You told me about the way in which people tell stories when things get hard. That story telling is not just remembering what has happened- it is a way of making sense of what happened.

God?s people need to make sense of a world which is often confused and difficult to live in. A world of war and violence. A world of racism and hatred. A world of poverty and despair.

And amidst it all, God?s people sing their songs and tell their stories.

You can see this happening in the Bible. In the Hebrew story we had this morning, we heard the re-telling, of Ruth?s story ? the re-membering (drawing together) of Ruth and her forbidden lover Boaz. The story told to re-member different races ? a story told to assure us that God?s love was alive in the love affair that developed between someone who was Jewish and someone who was not. A story told to call God?s people to remember that racism and prejudice may rule in the human present but have no place in God?s eternity.

Remember with all God?s people this day the story of the poor widow coming out of the Jerusalem treasury. A story which tells us that though meanness may rule human hearts, generosity is possible for any o­ne of God?s people. A story which tells us that though poverty may rule in the human here and now, sharing, generosity and joy will rule in God?s everlasting.

The stories of the Greek Testament are the work of a church scattered and lost, dispersed and dismembered. The stories brought them back together.
?Do you remember??, they asked as they gathered their stories,
?Do you remember what Jesus did??
?Do you remember what Jesus said?

Do you, you sitting here in St Saviour?s, disciples still, here and now, do you remember?

This is what happens when God?s people remember. They re-member too. They draw all the members together with their memories. The world is full of dreary stories of human sadness. As God?s people, let us go o­n re-membering. In a world of war and pain, poverty and despair, let us remember. Re-membering stories which bring freedom, justice and joy.

I’ve never kept All Souls on a Sunday before – in the past we have keep it as an evening service during the week. For some of you, this will be the first time that you have been here for this service, though we have had as many as 40 folk out to keep it in the past on an evening.

Many of us gathered in Holy Trinity Stirling yesterday afternoon and kept the Feast of All Saints. When we remember the saints, we remember the heroes of faith. Those apostles, teachers, evangelists, martyrs, healers, and preachers who served God in their service of God’s people. The saints through the ages – those whom we know by name and those whose names are known only to God are remembered every year at the start of November.
When we remember them, we recall the special things that they did. The acts of courage. The lives of service. The faithful actions of those who brought the church into being and brought the faith, somehow or another to us.

We remember them, as the bible says, as a great cloud of witnesses. The cloud of people who witnessed to their faith in their time here on earth and are remembered forever more as being God’s beloved.

And immediately afterwards, the day after All Saint’s, we remember something which is similar, but different.

And the two usually, purposefully, intentionally get a little muddled up. All Saints and All Souls tend, quite properly, to get mixed up.

On this day, we remember those who have died who were known more personally to us.

Not just those who brought the church into being and made it the thing it is today. But those who made us the people we are today. Giving thanks – always the vocation of the church is to give thanks in all things – giving thanks for their lives amongst us. Remembering them with gratitude and remembering them with love.

I find that this day when we remember those who have died is one of the most important to me in my ministry. For being with people when they are dying and being with people when someone has died are some of the most profound privileges of ministry.

I never sit with someone who is dying without being conscious that God sits with us.

I never stand at a grave or at the crematorium without feeling hope swell up in my own bones. Hope in a God who will take all things to himself in the end. A God who unites us, ultimately unites us within himself by drawing us on in love.

Sometimes I know that I am the only one who is there who has that hope. And I know that grief can dull our sense of God. But I know. And I believe.

One of the important things about this feast is that we keep it together. One of the things that I know to be true is that grief is raw. It is painful. It changes with time, but usually, we live through it and don’t really shake it off.

For me, it has become important to keep this feast with others. For I know that although no-one really knows what our own pain is like except God, it still helps to come together and share it with other people.

For we all have our losses. We all have our griefs.

On this day we mark that fact together. We mark the fact that none of us go on together. We commend those who have died to the care of Almighty God. We meet as friends of Christ. Christ who stood at the edge of the grave of a friend and wept.

When we remember Jesus on this day. Let us remember one who knew love. Who knew grief for himself. And who knew death.

Our God did not become a great hero. In an odd way, I find it comforting that God did not come to earth as a saint nor as an angel.

God came to earth to be a human being. And that meant sharing in our sorrows. And knowing what it meant to feel the pain of loss.

God came to this earth and shared the full measure of what it meant to be human.

I ask you today. If our God came to earth and shared in all our hopes and dreams, should we not try ourselves to look into eternity and share all of God’s hopes and dreams too.

Let us dream the kingdom of God into being. Let us keep the hope of heaven in our hearts and build the kingdom of God here on earth.

Countless thousands have gone before us building the kingdom. Endless love has been poured on us by the God who made us. All the hopes and dreams of humankind have lived in the minds of those whom we have known who have died.

We live in a world which habitually denies the reality of death – a reality which comes to us all in the end and which we all have to cope with at some time. One of the most positive things that marks Christian’s out from the world around them is that they do not deny the reality of death and yet? And yet they persist in their faith in a God who came to earth who offers us nothing, nothing at all but love.

In the face of death – we have lives to live and love to give.

We have a kingdom to build.

There is work which others have begun. Work for us to complete.

Amen