ANAMNESIS AND EUCHARIST

 

A sermon preached at The Society of Alumni Memorial Service, June 11, 2000

by

The Reverend Congreve H. Quinby, ‘50

 

May only the truth be spoken here and only the truth received  --   in the Name of God. Amen.

 

And speaking of God, I’m reminded of a story I heard at the very first Williams reunion my wife and I attended  --   in l985, my 35th. We had been living in Southern California and  then Missouri and could not, given a preacher’s salary and the raising of children, afford to come to earlier ones.  Chapin Hall had been the scene of the meeting of the Society of Alumni  --  the first such meeting, I believe, attended by the new President, Francis Oakley.  The reunion classes had marched in along with the Old Guard who reminded us of our mortality; John Chandler had been bid farewell; the new president had been introduced; the 25th and 50th reunion classes had presented  prodigious sums of money  to the College,  awards and bowls had been given for all sorts of successful accomplishments;  the benefits and glories of a Williams liberal arts education had been extolled; and loyal alumni and alumnae had lustily sung “The Mountains”  --   with the aid of the text printed in the program.

 

At the conclusion of the Meeting, upon leaving Chapin, President Oakley was heard to remark in a somewhat awe-struck voice, “My God, it’s a religion!”

 

He was right.  It was -- and it is, especially if you accept a dictionary definition of  religion as “any objective attended to or pursued with zeal or conscientious devotion.”

 

Williams is a religion and for the past few days, we’ve been doing some very religious things. And we have been doing them religiously.

 

We’ve been eating and drinking:  lobster and steak feasts --  perhaps less expensive fare for the younger classes  --  cocktail parties, brunches, informal get-togethers  --  you name it.  Celebrating, in various ways, our common life.

 

 I  remember being in the choir here at a past reunion where one of the major participants confessed to having arrived at Chapel more than slightly worse for wear because of the events of the previous evening.  In fact, when asked to preach at this service, I wondered if the inviters had figured that somebody back for his 50th would be too old, too frail, too wise or too dyspeptic to over-indulge?   I must tell you:  it was still a very good party at Mount Hope last night!

 

We’ve been doing another very religious thing:  we’ve been giving money  --  with zeal! Magnificent  sums have been given for buildings, scholarships, special programs, endowments because our lives have been deeply influenced  and graced by  all that we have received from this College:  great teachers, lasting friendships, minds and hearts challenged and stretched, spirits enriched.

As a dear friend of mine reminded me a few weeks ago:   Grace begets gratitude  and gratitude begets generosity   --   which, in turn, begets grace. The cycle goes on and on. We have been and  are now a willing part of that grace-full cycle.

 

We’ve been doing another very religious thing: we have been and continue to be a community – a community of loyalty and commitment, of devotion and celebration that has lasted and renews itself and continues to thrive in its third century.  Today this community  appropriately honors those who have died, especially those who have offered their lives in the service of our country.  We are profoundly grateful  for their sacrifice even as we grieve their death.  It is appropriate that we have created a permanent  memorial to them.  The members of the Class of 1950 count it a privilege to have provided that memorial.

 

Frank Oakley was right:  Williams is a religion.  As we remember and give thanks  -- two more signs of that religion -- we are living out our “conscientious devotion.”

 

There’s a wonderful Greek word for remembering: anamnesis.  It is something very different from simply looking back at the past.  And it is very different from nostalgia which is a wistful or sentimental yearning to return to some past time.  Its opposite, incidentally, is amnesia.  Anamnesis means that we bring a past event or series of events  right up to the present, the now, and make all the  people and feelings and circumstances  --  everything  --  immediate and effective.  We’re not back there  --  it’s all up here, now!

 

I  know that that has been happening for me these last few days.  The past is present as I walk the pathways, talk with you, yes, even as I stand here.  I remember singing in the choir for Daily Chapel (We had it back then.).  One day the person appointed to read the lesson and say the prayers did not show up.  I was “volunteered.” I still vividly remember the terror I felt when I tried to lead the Lord’s Prayer from memory!  Would I make it through?  I did  --  barely!

 

The past is very present for me and I suspect it is the same for many of you. We’ve been remembering by telling stories.  I still cherish the one concerning  Professor Hoar who was taking  attendance  on the first day of a freshman biology class.  (In those days it was freshman.)  He proceeded down the alphabet and came to the S’s: “ Smith”  “Here, sir!”  (You can tell this happened many years ago.)  “Smith”  “Here, sir!”   “Smythe”  “That’s pronounced Smith, sir!”  The Professor: “Why don’t you spell your name like all the other Smiths do?”  Smythe, without missing a beat:  “Why don’t you spell your name like all the other whores do?”   Professor Hoar loved to tell that story and how the class broke up for the day.

 

As we have been sharing stories, we have been  savoring academic discoveries, recollecting athletic exploits, laughing  --  guiltily or otherwise --  over extra-curricular adventures, grieving for loved ones who have died,  recalling both the triumphs and tragedies of our lives,  reminding one another of some particularly witty, atrocious or even vulgar remark.  We have been allowing ourselves to be touched and yes,  sometimes broken and healed by a word or a conversation,  a memory, a handshake or a hug. We have been pierced by the beauty all around us.

 

We have been remembering  –  even as Moses in Deuteronomy admonished his followers, before they crossed over the river Jordan, to remember what great things God had done for them:  “A wandering Aramean was my ancestor…”  We have been remembering  --  even as Jesus commanded his disciples at the Last Supper:  “Do this in anamnesis of me.”

 

As we remember, we have been also been giving thanks.  Again, there’s a great Greek word: eucharist.  It means, quite simply, ‘thanksgiving.’  And hidden in that word eucharist is another word: charis, which means ‘grace,’ the free, unearned, undeserved gift of God’s incredible love and bounty. We may look at our accomplishments and accumulations and say what a good job we’ve done. We probably have.  Yet, at  times like that in my own life, I need to be reminded of G. K. Chesterton’s trenchant remark,  “A self-made man frequently shows the defects of his creator.” 

 

 You and I have been wonderfully graced and blessed by God.  When we are at our best   --  even sometimes when we are not --  we know how blessed we are.  As we live our Williams religion today, I pray that we will discern that all these events and actions --  as wonderful as they are  --  are signs pointing to an even deeper reality:  far richer, more wonderful, eternal.  What magnificent gifts we have received from our college, from each other and from God!

 

  So we do eucharist now. Not as Holy Communion; or the Mass; or the Lord’s Supper; or the seder,  to be sure.  Still and all, this is a grace-filled time of thanksgiving and remembering:  friends, classmates, teachers, heroes and heroines, veterans and those who  served in other ways, saints and sinners, scholars, poets, musicians, P ladies (You’d have to have been here many years ago to remember them!), mentors and companions on the pilgrimage of life.  What a tremendous procession and company we make!

 

Sisters and brothers, Williams is not a faith, but it  is  a religion: eating and drinking, celebrating, giving money  --  all with zeal and conscientious devotion  --  a living community, with common and uncommon stories, remembering and giving thanks.

 

 So, “Come, fill your glasses up”  --  and empty them  --   to Williams!  To life! To God!   

 

L’chaim! “Asalaamu alaikum!”  Shalom!  God Bless!    Amen!

 

 

Based on:

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

Philippians 4:1, 4-7