Speech for Annual Meeting
the Rev. Dr. Joseph Neville October 20, 2001 Shocked, and for some momentarily paralyzed. Dismayed and saddened, we all groped for a place of refuge. We stumbled headlong into the comforting words of God, the familiar voices and arms of family and friends. For some it was the stirring of memories we hoped would never be revisited, for others a horror with no personal frame of felt reference. Images of invulnerability, of impenetrability were shattered. Transfixed to our radios, newspapers and televisions, we gathered bits and pieces of information from every source available, and we moved on. Fed by a spirit of goodness and harmony juxtaposed against the horror of that morning of indelibility, we saw, slowly in ourselves and then in others, a bit of the imago Dei: the image of divine and eternal goodness. We found a common music; beloved psalms, remembered verses, symbols of comfort and refreshment and times of silence. We cherished those moments of rejoicing at the birth or baptism of a child, the warm embrace of a loved one who knew and shared our deepest sadness or apprehensions. And yet life continued its familiar rhythms: We visited those in hospital and said our private goodbyes to loved ones, and we moved on. Opening wide the doors of God's meetinghouses, you invited whomever for whatever reason to come for direction, comfort and meaning. You/we became aware of our young people who looked with pensive eyes to us for assurances that their dismay, their sadness and their fear was authentically definable, but not ultimately defining. We saw you listening with a heart of love. We saw you helping them reach out beyond themselves to those with heavier burdens than their own; and we moved on. Reaching deep into your own humanity and faith, you continue to help younger and older travelers alike come to better understand the ease with which we could slither into the morass of racism, ethnic profiling and nationalistic revenge. I heard in your sermons and read in your newsletters the cutting words of Jesus, piercing our brooding, apprehensive ears, reminding us again and again to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us, to go the extra mile and do good to those who hate us. Various newsletters exhorted us not to pray to avenge a country or city as much as pray that all women and men, throughout the world, may know the love and relentless beckoning of God for justice and humility throughout the world: For when the tragedies of this world envelop humanity, not only in New York or Afghanistan, but throughout history, I believe it is God who first weeps and wants those of us who claim to be disciples to live out this covenant of justice and peace and reconciliation. It is God who exhorts us to look at any policies that diminish the worth of another as reprehensible and worthy of our indignation and protest, regardless of the country of origin, and we move on. As coalitions form across this beleaguered world of ours we may be starting to see from this wounded yet not broken body that we are yet again being led to drink of divine nectar from the cup of world communion. Pray God this is so, as we move on. Moving on, however, still causes us to be mindful of a constant state of fear that accompanies our every waking hour. Fear has momentarily made our life miserable. However, a living faith in a living God can help us overcome this vise of fear. As the poet Whittier said, we can walk headlong into life saying: I know not where his islands lift Will you assist me in closing this reflection by saying after me? (Rendered from Psalm 46 & 23) God is my refuge and strength |
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