All the people gathered together into the square before the Water Gate. They told the scribe Ezra to bring the book of the law of Moses, which the LORD had given to Israel. Accordingly, the priest Ezra brought the law before the assembly, both men and women and all who could hear with understanding. This was on the first day of the seventh month. He read from it facing the square before the Water Gate from early morning until midday, in the presence of the men and the women and those who could understand; and the ears of all the people were attentive to the book of the law. And Ezra opened the book in the sight of all the people, for he was standing above all the people; and when he opened it, all the people stood up. Then Ezra blessed the LORD, the great God, and all the people answered, "Amen, Amen," lifting up their hands. Then they bowed their heads and worshiped the LORD with their faces to the ground. So they read from the book, from the law of God, with interpretation. They gave the sense, so that the people understood the reading. And Nehemiah, who was the governor, and Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who taught the people said to all the people, "This day is holy to the LORD your God; do not mourn or weep." For all the people wept when they heard the words of the law. Then he said to them, "Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our LORD; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength." Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10

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One of the most important themes in our Christian tradition is the theme of remembering. Each time we read scripture we remember our history, our legacy, as God's beloved. One of the meanings of communion is that we remember Jesus; we remember the ministry of Jesus, which then draws us back to who we are as God's people.

Sometimes (I find that) remembering is a tremendous challenge. There are those memories that get tucked away and become forgotten. There are joyful memories! I recently spoke with my old seminary friend Jeff, who reminded me of a game we used to play in seminary. I had almost completely forgotten until Jeff reminded me! Jeff said: "Jonas, remember when you said that you can make your face into the shape of every state in the union." As a joke to my friends, I started to talk-up that I had a hidden talent and that I could distort my face to take the shape of any one of the fifty states in the US. This had been one of many jokes, which my friends would refer to as Jonas-isms. On the phone, Jeff said, "Jonas, your Jonas-isms have really stuck with me. Whenever my wife Kim and I go on vacation, one of us will make our face into the shape of a state and have the other one guess. We laugh every time" And before Jeff hung up he said: Jonas, by the way, my face is in the shape of Hawaii right now!" Do you remember those moments that made you laugh so hard, you had to stop laughing because your stomach hurt? Sometimes these memories flow naturally. We engage our memories daily, or they engage us… yet sometimes they get lost in the shuffle somewhere; but - nonetheless - they are there, resting deep inside of us. (And as Proust would have it - "an aroma, or the sound of wind brushing against the trees, or a shadow on the wall . . . these will instantly open a door and the past will come rushing back.")

Then, there are those memories, which remain hidden - they bring us pain as we recall them. Perhaps there was an issue or experience you thought you had moved beyond… one you thought was reconciled, but mysteriously the sound of a distant train whistle triggered a flood of emotion and grief.

In the book entitled Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness, William Styron speaks on painful remembering, grief and depression - and how our feelings can get the best of any of us. As the reader enters Styron's prose, one discovers that Styron is disclosing his experience of depression… and he does so in the context of others' struggles with the same. He reflects on the life of the brilliant Italian writer and survivor of Auschwitz, Primo Levi, who - at the age of sixty-seven - tragically hurled himself down a stairwell in Turin (T-y-rin) in 1987. Shortly after Levi's death, Styron read an account in The New York Times about a symposium on the writer and his work held at New York University. He says: "I was fascinated, but also appalled. For, according to the article, many of the participants, worldly writers and scholars, seemed mystified by Levi's suicide, mystified and disappointed. It was as if this man whom they had all so greatly admired, and who had endured so much at the hands of the Nazis - a man of exemplary resilience and courage - had by his suicide demonstrated a frailty of crumbling character they were loath to accept. In the face of a terrible absolute - self-destruction - their reaction was helplessness and a touch of shame."

Styron's annoyance over all this was so intense that he was prompted to write a short piece for the op-ed page of the Times. He argued as follows. The pain of severe depression is quite unimaginable to those who have not suffered it, and it kills in many instances because its anguish can no longer be borne. The truth is that Primo Levi's mother died not long before he took his own life. Those close to him said that his mother's aging process and ultimately her death had been so painful to him, it surpassed even the grief he had associated with the holocaust.

When I was a child I used to think that life was a constant motion upwards toward bigger and better, holier and more faithful, and a deeper spiritual life. Now I see it as a spiral. Sometimes it feels like a motion forwards, then a motion backwards - yet, from different parts of the spiral, we gain a new lens into life and new insight - applying our new knowledge and wisdom to those old patterns which crop up in life.

If the whole history of Israel were placed on a spiral, I'm sure the Israelites felt as though they were moving backwards; for - in our text this morning - grief and sorrow is mostly what is on their tongues and in their hearts. The previous chapters in Nehemiah unfold how heartbreaking the past hundred years has been for the Israelites. They have experienced so much suffering, scarcity of food and resources, and just plain disappointment. The morale of the community has gone way down to what seems like absolute hopelessness. In the midst of all this - the Israelites are trying to rebuild their temple. As you might imagine - getting a temple built in such conditions is quite an undertaking! After many delays, the temple is finally built in twenty-two years. But even that accomplishment is mixed with bitter disappointment because the new temple pales in comparison to the old temple.

For Israel, the good memories seem to be an eternity ago. They recall the Exodus story. "I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery."

They remember what has been referred to as the "second exodus" - the Israelites extraordinary return from Babylonian exile 100 years before.

But these stories seem like a faint memory of the past, which they only know through their elders and through the law of Moses. And now, at this moment the people look up at their new temple and hope to the feel the spirit. They want to feel the spirit!

All the people gathered together into the square before the Water Gate. They told the scribe Ezra to bring the book of the law of Moses, which the LORD had given to Israel. Accordingly, the priest Ezra brought the law before the assembly, both men and women and all who could hear with understanding. This was on the first day of the seventh month. He read from it facing the square before the Water Gate from early morning until midday, in the presence of the men and the women and those who could understand; and the ears of all the people were attentive to the book of the law. (Nehemiah 8:1-3)

At the start of the text, the prophet Ezra reads from the law of Moses and all begin to focus; they all begin to center themselves in order to be in the presence of God. The people are so focused and attentive to the law that, "as Ezra opened the book of the law, everyone stood up." As Ezra reads, their lives flash before their eyes. And, as they are still, they begin to remember. A whole range of emotions come up for the people as they gather.

Then Ezra blessed the LORD, the great God, and all the people answered, "Amen, Amen," lifting up their hands. Then they bowed their heads and worshiped the LORD with their faces to the ground. (Nehemiah 8:6)

The people begin their worship in reverence. They bow their heads and worship God with their faces to the ground, anticipating Ezra's reading of the words of the law.
For all the people wept when they heard the words of the law. (Nehemiah 8:9)

(And), upon hearing the law, the people weep. They can no longer hold back their tears, for they have experienced so much pain, so much disappointment up to this point. The rebuilding of the temple had been such a painstaking task and - even with that - the finishing product is way below par. I can imagine someone saying: "How can I remember the Exodus story? How can I remember the return of our ancestors from the Babylonian exile when this has not been our experience? When will be our deliverance? Has God forgotten about us?" It's is such a fearful thing to think of being forgotten, isn't it?

Then he said to them, "Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our LORD; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength. (Nehemiah 8:10)

In the people's grief, Nehemiah, Ezra, and the Levites charge: "Go on your way, eat the fat and drink the sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared." God instructs the people to celebrate, for the new temple is a success. Perhaps it is not what they'd had in mind when they started, but there it is, the new temple! - the fruit of their labor, twenty-two years of all their hard work.

"Go. Eat. Send portions of your meals to the poor."

The people are commanded to celebrate the new moon festival - and the new temple - which is what brought them there in the (very) first place. The people are commanded to do something: "Go! Eat!" but they are instructed to also keep humble and to remember: "Send portions of your meals to the poor." We need goals and actions like these to hold us accountable to faithfulness.

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A couple of weeks ago I sat down with a young professional man in Palo Alto. We were talking about personal and professional goals for the upcoming year. He began his list.

And after some struggle, I saw him reach for a journal from his back pocket. He wrote a new goal for himself unlike the others and he shared it with me.

The goal read: "To remember ways that I am head-over-heals in love with God."

He said: "Sometimes I get so distracted with work and family that I do not really get to attend to my spiritual life and my faith. I fear that my faith has become so academic that I've forgotten why I am interested in studying science, philosophy, the world religions, and scripture. It's because I love God!"

May we too remember ways that we are head-over-heels in love with God! For God, too, is head-over-heals in love with us. Just as we long to be remembered, God longs to be remembered by us.

I'm told by my parents that when my younger brother Jonathan was 5, he took my dad's face in his hands - as dad was about to depart for a trip, Jonathan said: "Dad, remember me. I'm Jonathan."

"Do not be anxious, God says: "As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you."

In the words of Ezra, I charge you: Remember that this day before you is holy. The joy of the Lord is your strength! Amen.