In this second of a four-part series called "The Gifts of God for the People of God," today's Scripture readings for this World Communion Sunday bring to our minds two very distinct and powerful ways in which God gifts the church for life and service. One, through the pouring out of the Holy Spirit in a very public setting over the diverse assembly of peoples. And the second, Jesus' own gift of remembering, given in private, to his closest friends, in the hours leading to his arrest, trial and crucifixion.

In these days since the terror of September 11th, I have been pondering Jesus' words and actions at the Last Supper in a new light. Because we sometimes picture this setting in our minds in such a sacred and holy light, we forget that this supper actually occurred in the midst of terrible violence. It was a frightening and rather gruesome time. The Roman Empire was harsh and cruel. The Jews were slaves. After Jesus' birth, King Herod had tried to kill all the baby boys under two years of age, fearing the power that Jesus would one day have. Many of the people lived in abject poverty. Jesus' cousin, John, who baptized him and paved the way for his ministry, was beheaded by Herod. Jesus spoke often of his own death. In addition, he wept for his beloved Jerusalem, a city that knew no peace.

In the midst of that violence and betrayal and fear, on that very night in which he was betrayed by one close to him, knowing what was coming, Jesus gathered his disciples together at table. And they shared a meal. And he picked up the bread and the cup and told them that in the future, after he was gone, he would nevertheless always be with them in this same eating and drinking together. He said: "This bread is my body. This cup is my blood. You will remember me, I will be present among you, whenever you eat and drink from the loaf and cup."

And on that same night, according to the Gospel of John (again remembering that context of internal and external violence) Jesus also spoke to his dear friends about the grief they would feel after his death. And he said that the Holy Spirit would bring them the gift of peace, not peace as the world gives, but the peace of God, which goes beyond all understanding.

Even as he prepared to face his own death, the Savior of the World gave his disciples gifts of remembrance and the gift of peace, gifts of love and encouragement. And from these gifts, the church was formed.

Of all the stories we've read and heard of what happened on September 11th, perhaps none are more wrenching and poignant than the stories of the phone calls and messages sent from those who knew they were facing death to those they loved. One man emailed a co-worker saying: "I don't think I'm going to get out. You've been a really good friend." One woman whose husband worked as a chef at the Windows on the World restaurant at the top of one of the World Trade Center towers said that he called her after the Tower had been hit to say: "I'm OK. Don't worry. I love you no matter what. I love you."

And people made calls from United flight 93 before it crashed in Pennsylvania. A flight attendant. A passenger-one of the ones who found the courage to attack the hijackers and prevent far greater destruction. All messages of love and encouragement for those who would be left behind. One New York Times writer said: "The phone calls of farewell-words of absolutely final goodby-amen from out of the blue, from the very edge of the hereafter.... None of the innocent passengers was reported phoning out with a cry for vengeance in the final calls. Rather, those who got through, as agony seized the world above and below, sent plain words of love."

As we struggle now to define the strength and courage we all need to go forward into an unknown future, their parting messages of love extend far beyond the intimate family circles to embrace us all. Their poignant farewells are gifts for our broken hearts, just as were Jesus' words and actions to his beloved friends. Plain words of love.

Jesus set the example there at table with his disciples so long ago in his witness to the power of love in the midst of violence. Gifts of remembrance, love and peace to sustain the living through whatever lies ahead.

The passage we hear from the Book of Acts this morning takes the story into the next chapter. Again, what we didn't hear was the context of fear and loss in which this event takes place. For while the devout were gathering in Jerusalem for a religious festival, Jesus' own disciples had retreated in fear. Following the numbness and shock of his crucifixion, they were still struggling to grasp on to the power of the Resurrection. On that day, they were gathered together behind locked doors, afraid for their lives. They needed a new gift of the Spirit to bolster their courage and restore their faith in God's promises and bring to life the gifts he himself had given them.

And so, God sent gifts of the Spirit again, in a different form this time, and now, not just upon the little band of disciples, but upon everyone assembled in the city that day. It was a lavish out-pouring of the Spirit, gifts tumbling out upon them. Gifts for the young and the old. Gifts for the men and the women. Gifts for slave and free. Gifts for all the people. Gifts of a world without barriers of culture or language or background. Gifts of old enmities washed away. Gifts of vision and prophecy. Gifts of exuberance and joy. Gifts of new dreams and hope. And from these gifts, the church was born and began to come to life.

In every age, in every circumstance, even in the midst of violence and fear, as was known then and as is experienced by us now, God finds a way to gift his children with the strength and hope needed to persevere. It is these gifts for the whole world which we remember today, in these times when the whole world seems much more real to us than it did a month ago. And it is these gifts which we receive for ourselves this day, along with Christians in every place.

We keep these gifts before us by sharing in the sacrament each month-many Christians do this weekly, and many more daily. And there are some words in the mass and of high church liturgies which have dropped out of our current liturgy, but I want you to hear them today. After breaking the bread and lifting the cup, the celebrant would say:

"The Gifts of God for the People of God. Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your hearts by faith, with thanksgiving."

And then, the people come forward to receive the gifts.

The Gifts of God for the People of God. The sacrament and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Sisters and brothers, Christ has given us the gift of himself, his very body and blood, as tangible mementos of the fact that in him God shares our life. That God knows our grief and fear. That God knows how hard it can be to cling to hope. That God is with us always, flesh and blood, body and spirit, heart and soul.

And God has sent the gifts of the Holy Spirit as well, to empower us and the whole world, renewing our dreams and our hope.

In this remembering, we find our strength. With this hope, we face into the future, proclaiming with the church in every time and place that we are convinced "that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, our Lord."

The Gifts of God for the People of God. Amen.

© Patricia E. Farris, 2001. Permission is given for brief quotation with attribution. All other rights reserved.