Weekly Sermon

September 16, 2001 - "SCATANA"

The Reverend Anne Benefield

Geneva Presbyterian Church

Psalm 46; Romans 8:26-27, 38

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble in its tumult. God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns. "Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth." The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Romans 8:26-27, 38 The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God… For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Prayer: In you, Lord, all things are made new. We pray to be made new through your word. May we listen to and obey it with renewed spirits in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen. On Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, everything changed. We lost our innocence. We lost our security. We lost something hard to capture in words-maybe a sense of confidence and invincibility. The earth shook. Suddenly symbols of our strength and power were destroyed or threatened. The twin towers of the World Trade Center that proclaimed American wealth are gone, violently removed by a terrorist attack. The Pentagon that proclaimed American military power was broken asunder. The White House suddenly looks vulnerable. Actually all our symbols look a little vulnerable. And the lives-both those lost and those forever changed by four suicidal jet crashes. Through what normally are the wonderful connections of family and friends, every one of us has been affected by the devastation of that day. We found ourselves unable to leave the television set. We watched as wives searched for husbands; brothers searched for sisters; and mothers searched for their children. Our hearts broke a thousand times. Our eyes ache from crying too many tears. We think we don't have any more tears and then we see another expectant mother holding the picture of the father-to-be and we cry again. And we feel angry. We want vengeance. We want to punish everyone responsible and even some people who aren't responsible, but are of the same faith or from the same part of the world as the people we believe perpetrated this horror. We want answers. Why did this happen? Who did this? Who is to blame? We are angry, sad, confused, taut with anxiety and at the same time weary to the bone. We are mourning. That is what this is. We are staring at death. We mourn the fatalities and casualties as well as our loss of innocence and security. We have been attacked and we may never feel completely safe again. Yet, in the midst of all the suffering, we have seen something else. We have seen a rebirth of community. We have seen compassion and kindness pouring forth like a healing balm. We have seen hope for the future, a changed future, but a good future nonetheless. Earlier this week I found an interesting term, SCATANA. It was new to me. I had never heard it before. Rev. Henry Brinton, the pastor at the Fairfax Presbyterian Church, shared the term in a note on the internet. SCATANA is a term for a special military operation, meaning Security Control of Air Traffic and Navigation Aids. In a time of national crisis, all civilian airlines go to the ground, and all military aircraft go into the air, to provide for strong defense. This Tuesday, as you know, the Federal Aviation Administration closed all the nation's airports, for the first time in history. SCATANA. As Christians, we may not have a role in the grounding of any aircraft, but in a time of crisis we are challenged to practice a kind of spiritual SCATANA: to go to the ground of our being, Almighty God. "God is our refuge and strength," Psalm 46 reminds us, "a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea"…though jets should crash…though buildings should crumble…though countless lives should be lost. The psalm goes on to promise that God is in the midst of the city, and that God will help it when the morning dawns. Although the nations are in an uproar and the kingdoms totter, God remains in control. "The Lord of hosts is with us." At a time like this, we go to the ground, to the solid ground that is our creating, redeeming, and sustaining Lord. At a time like this, we land on the firmest foundations, the mighty fortress that is our God. Our strength comes from God, not from the symbols and trappings of wealth and power. God is strong enough to carry us forward when we are despairing and cannot go forward on our own strength. God's heart was the first one to break on Tuesday morning, yet God is strong enough to carry us forward. Years ago when I was working at Marble Collegiate Church in New York, we invited the president of General Seminary, Dr. James Fenhagen, to speak at a Lenten dinner. The theme that year was healing. He told a story I will never forget. A few years earlier, he was scheduled to deliver the keynote address at a large and prestigious gathering of pastors. The week before he was to give the address, his son committed suicide. Of course, he canceled the speech, but two days before the conference was to begin, he called the conference planners and asked if they had found someone to give the address. They had not and he said he would like to give it. He went to that gathering with a simple message. He told them, "I have now touched the bottom of the pit and it is solid. I thought I would drown in the pain, but then my foot found the bottom. I have come to tell you that Christ is the foundation. The foundation is firm and it will hold." The ground of our being is Almighty God and though the earth may shake, nothing can separate us from him. Another thing to remember is that God is faithful. In Jesus Christ, we are never alone and we never face anything alone. Rev. Fred Craddock tells about meeting a woman in a hospital corridor. She was banging both fists on a door, shouting, "Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!" Rev. Craddock couldn't figure out why someone would lock her out. It turned out that the locked door was to the chapel. He got a key and opened the door. The woman wasn't dressed in normal street clothes. She wasn't wearing shoes, just slippers. She hadn't combed her hair and she wasn't wearing makeup. Rev. Craddock writes, "She had the look of desperation. She had the voice of desperation. I can't tell you if she was screaming or crying or moaning or what it was, but it was desperation." Her husband had had a heart attack. Rev. Craddock began to pray for her and for her husband, but she interrupted him. Craddock says, "She didn't just interrupt…she took over. She started praying herself and stopped my prayer. I think maybe I was too quiet or too slow or saying the wrong thing or something. Anyway, my prayer wasn't getting there, and she knew it. So she said, 'Lord, this is not the time to take my husband. You know that better than I do, he's not ready. Never prays, never goes to church or anything. He's not ready, not a good time to take him…'" Rev. Craddock writes, "I stayed as long as I felt useful. I went back the next morning, and she had on a nice dress; she had on shoes; she had combed her hair. She looked fine. She was in the hallway outside intensive care. Before I could ask, she said, 'He's better.' She smiled and said, 'I'm sorry about that crazy woman yesterday.' "I said, 'Well, you weren't crazy.' "She said, 'I guess the Lord heard one of us.' "I said, 'He heard you.' "She was desperate. She had God by the lapels, both hands, and was screaming in God's face; 'I don't think you're listening!' That's desperation." [Fred Craddock, Craddock Stories, (St. Louis: Chalice Press, 2001), p. 110-111.] When we are desperate, as we surely have been this past week, it is well to remember that God is the ground of our existence, as close to us as our breath. In Jesus Christ, all our humanity is understood. There is no separation between us. God is with us. There is one more thing to remember. My favorite words in Psalm 46 are in verse 10. God says, "Be still and know that I am God!" There is so much for us to do. In this time of crisis, we have a mission as Christians to give of ourselves whether it is blood, money, talents, but most importantly, we are to pray. Only in prayer can we find God's will for us. We have talked about spiritual SCATANA, returning to the ground of our being. From the foundation of God's gracious love, we are also called forward to carry his love out into the world. We are God's peaceful warriors, and prayer is our most powerful weapon. If you have ever watched a flock of birds resting or feeding, you may have noticed a remarkable thing. When the time comes to take flight, even though no sound is made, a multitude of birds takes off and sets its course as a unit. It is as if the many are unified and directed by some unspoken purpose. In these days of turmoil, we need to pray so that we might be receptive to the unspoken guidance of God. Perhaps in doing this we will come closer and closer to flying in unity in God's direction. Let us then pray together now and let us begin with silence. During that silence, let us reflect on our purpose as a flock… Gracious God, You have called us to be your church, the body of Jesus Christ in the world. Guide us that we might serve you, our nation, and your world in the name of Jesus Christ. Empower us with your love. As long as there are deeds of compassion to be done, we are not helpless. As long as there are acts of faith to be taken, we are not hopeless. As long as there are victims for whom to pray, we are not voiceless. Let us be your people of compassion, faith, and prayer. Let us be a blessing to those who suffer, mourn, and despair. Let us find your will. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.