Sunday, November 13, 2022

Pentecost 23, Proper 28 (Year C)

Isaiah 65:17-25; Canticle 9; 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13; Luke 21:5-19

The Rev. Clint Brown

Last Tuesday when I voted, I felt especially proud to be an American. Perhaps it’s because I spent most of the summer studying the founding documents and the records of the Constitutional Convention; or because, in the eight months since he arrived, there has been a lot to explain to Cavan about our country which has reminded me how special it is; or perhaps I was just having a really good day; but, whatever it was, when I went to cast my ballot, I had one of those blazing moments of consciousness in which I felt the extraordinary privilege of being a citizen of the United States and immense gratitude. It is, after all, the sacred duty of citizens to vote and participate in government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

We also marked this Friday, Veterans Day, whose proximity to Election Day every couple of years helpfully reminds us that freedom isn’t free and that we owe an incalculable debt to the men and women in uniform, past and present, who secure our liberties, including the right to suffrage. If citizens have the right to vote, surely we owe it to those who have fought for it that we exercise it.

Five years ago, when my parents and I decided we would make a family road trip out of my move to seminary in Alexandria, Virginia, we knew a visit to Arlington National Cemetery was going to be a highlight of the trip. I had been fortunate enough to visit there once before on a school trip in junior high, but neither of them had ever been. And you know, if you’ve been there, that one of the things you most want to show a first-time visitor is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and to see the changing of the guard. It is not an experience from which you walk away unaffected. The story goes that

In March 1926, soldiers from nearby Fort Myer were first assigned to guard the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The guards, present only during daylight hours, discouraged visitors from climbing or stepping on the Tomb. In 1937, the guards became a 24/7 presence, standing watch over the Unknown Soldier at all times.

The 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment, known as “The Old Guard,” was designated as the Army’s official ceremonial unit on April 6, 1948. At that time, The Old Guard began guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier….

Soldiers who volunteer to become Tomb Guards must undergo a strict selection process and intensive training. Each element of the Tomb Guard’s routine has meaning. The Guard marches 21 steps down the black mat behind the Tomb, turns and faces east for 21 seconds, turns and faces north for 21 seconds, and then takes 21 steps down the mat. Next, the Guard executes a sharp "shoulder-arms" movement to place his/her weapon on the shoulder closest to the visitors, signifying that he or she stands between the Tomb and any possible threat. The number 21 symbolizes the highest symbolic military honor that can be bestowed: the 21-gun salute.[1]

As I said, no one who witnesses this precisely executed round, observes the impeccable care that has gone into maintaining uniforms, kit, and decorum, knowing that in rain or snow, day or night, whether a visitor or official is there to observe it or not, a watch is always kept, can fail to be moved. Standing there that morning I began to cry thinking that this is but a glimpse of the care and belovedness with which the Heavenly Father dutifully looks towards us and all creation.

Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd, discharges his duty towards us with constancy and affection, and, so, since we are speaking of duty, let us ask then, what is our duty toward him? Well, for an old-fashioned word like “duty” I went to an old-fashioned source, the 1928 Prayer Book. In the Catechism the question is posed, “What is thy duty towards God?” And the answer is: “My duty towards God is to believe in him, to fear him, and to love him with all my heart, with all my mind, with all my soul, and with all my strength: To worship him, to give him thanks: To put my whole trust in him, to call upon him: To honour his holy Name and his Word: And to serve him truly all the days of my life.” And then, “What is thy duty towards thy Neighbour?” “My duty towards my Neighbour is to love him as myself, and to do to all men as I would they should do unto me: To love, honour, and succour my father and mother: To honour and obey the civil authority: To submit myself to all my governors, teachers, spiritual pastors and masters: To order myself lowly and reverently to all my betters: To hurt nobody by word or deed: To be true and just in all my dealings: To bear no malice nor hatred in my heart: To keep my hands from picking and stealing, and my tongue from evil speaking, lying, and slandering: To keep my body in temperance, soberness, and chastity: Not to covet nor desire other men’s goods; But to learn and labour truly to get mine own living, And to do my duty in that state of life unto which it shall please God to call me.”

Not only is this remarkable for its remarkable clarity, but I will only add that knowing our duty is just another way of saying that we understand where we fit in a greater order. Our place is neither God’s place, for which reason we owe God certain obligations, such as our worship, nor is it to think of ourselves too lowly, as if we were mere slaves and beggars. We do have a choice. We have both agency and choice and that is to be responsible for ourselves and one another. Ours is the freedom to take responsibility – to vote, to learn, to appreciate, and to fulfill our obligations to God and one another.

The Bridge Builder by Will Allen Dromgoole[2]

An old man, going a lone highway,

Came, at the evening, cold and gray,

To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,

Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed the twilight dim;

The sullen stream had no fears for him;

But he turned, when safe on the other side,

And built a bridge to span the tide.

“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim, near,

“You are wasting strength with building here;

Your journey will end with the ending day;

You never again must pass this way;

You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide –

Why build you the bridge at the eventide?”

The builder lifted his old gray head:

“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,

“There followeth after me today

A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught to me,

To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.

He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;

Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.”

[1] From https://www.arlingtoncemetery.mil/Explore/Tomb-of-the-Unknown-Soldier, accessed November 12, 2022.

[2] William J. Bennett, The Book of Virtues: A Treasury of Great Moral Stories (New York: Touchstone, 1993), 223.