Mr. Speaker, I ask for the House's attention today to recognize the 40th anniversary of the Kopper Kettle explosion in downtown Auburn, Alabama. Below is the 1978 sermon by Rev. Rod Sinclair at the Episcopal College Center after the…
Mr. Speaker, I ask for the House's attention today to recognize the 40th anniversary of the Kopper Kettle explosion in downtown Auburn, Alabama.
Below is the 1978 sermon by Rev. Rod Sinclair at the Episcopal College Center after the explosion occurred:
The explosion at the Kopper Kettle has consumed the time
and attention of many of us this week, especially Sunday when
it occurred Monday and Tuesday when we were fixing ourselves
up and getting heat back into the building and into the
Steven's House. There have been many expressions of
gratefulness that no one in town was injured or killed and we
have all told each other where we were when we hear of or
felt the blast. We have even told each other about other
explosions, other calamities and what our reaction was to
them. And some of us have gone off into the world of metaphor
and analogy and compared the explosion at the Kopper Kettle
to what happens to a human being who gets poison in his or
her system, poison from unacknowledged anger or poison from
unexpressed resentment, and how the pressure can build up an
explosion.
The another type of explosion occurred to me, as it should,
being the preacher, which I like to look at this morning. It
is the explosion of the spirit and it can be more devastating
than what happened last Sunday at Magnolia and Gay.
The explosion of the spirit is what happens when all the
things we thought we believed in collapses, when the world of
meaning collapses, when the truths that we always thought
were true seem untrue, when doubt attacks every item of faith
and prevails, and faith seems counterfeit, and trust wanders
aimlessly hunting for a place to rest, and when other
people's piety bring charges of hypocrisy to our lips. The
explosion of the spirit can hit with the force of last
Sunday's blast or it can strike in a slow-motion version.
Decay is an explosion developing slowly. We can rebuild
stores and replace smashed windows, but persons who are
smashed by an earthquake under their house of faith have no
certainty that they can pick up the pieces, nor may they want
to, for their structure no longer has meaning. All that was
dear and cherished is splintered and smoking. Their faith is
gone, their dreams are smashed, and they have no basis for
hope.
What do you do if the explosion of the spirit strikes you?
First, I believe you must go to your most trusted friend, not
to talk, but to sit in silence--in the presence of the
other--in the presence of another human being. And the truth
of the presence may be the only truth that is verifiable.
Next, you must allow your friend to care for you. This is
more difficult than silence. Nor can it come too quickly.
This requires that you give permission to the other to enter
your shattered world. And with the entry may come judgment
(but surely not!) and may come abject embarrassment (Yes,
possibly that) or the painful admission that you are lost in
the woods and do not know the way home. (Yes, that too!) Your
trusted friend is there to listen, is not therapist,
counselor or father confessor (at least not then) and listens
to you talk, listens to the starkness of your confession that
your religious house of cards proved to be just that, listens
to the pain of your isolation--for you are in an empty, flat
land by yourself with not so much as four pegs to pitch a
tent for shelter. He listens to the description of your
futureless future. And the echo of the question ``What is
there now?'' continues to sound in your empty room.
But your friend does not answer your questions; eventually
you do. Yet no one can tell you when the eventuality will
happen. First, there may be nothing more than the
establishing of a routine; but even routine requires a degree
of faith. Later, there may be divine word, certainly not
acknowledged then as such. From deep within, from the center
of your center, may come the word: ``Life shall go on.'' And
you know the words are true and your house of meaning
receives another plank.
If and when the house is completed, that is, if and when
there is a day when you can say: ``I believe that the
following truths gives me meaning, and makes sense out of
existence, and are the grounds on which I will stake my
life,'' if there is a day when this can be said again, after
an explosion of the spirit my hope is that your statement of
what you believe would include the following:
First, a trust in God, trust in God as personal and loving,
God who loves you, who understands and who cares for you.
Believing that God understands and loves us is the life force
that prevents us from dying.
Secondly, a realization that Jesus of Nazareth reveals God
to us. We are not blocked or stumped in our search for the
knowledge of God. Jesus' love and forgiveness is the
indicator of God's love and forgiveness. Believing that Jesus
reveals God to us is the life force that guards our spirits
from collapsing.
Thirdly, a trust that God is present with and in us, and
that his spirit, his power, and his love are with us and in
us, his people. We are not left derelict or abandoned,
wondering if we shall ever be called for. Believing that
God's presence is with us and in us is the life force that
builds us up as a community of people seeking to be faithful
and prevents us from despairing.
To be able to base your life on those three assertions and
know they are true is to return from the land of shadow and
mist into the sunlight of a new day.
The person who experiences the bankruptcy of spirit that we
have spoken of and who later reclaims and rebuilds, who
begins again and whose faith grows from infancy to maturity,
has a lot to tell us. My guess is that such a person would
share with us such thoughts as:
No one else can say what's true for you. All truth is self-
validating.
Much truth, that is not yet perceived as truth, can remain
on the shelf: it may be claimed later on.
Having swallowed too much once before and exploded, it's
best not to bite off more than you can chew.
Courage to rebuild is an act of faith.
The process of discovering meaning is an element of meaning
itself.
My further guess is that as we met such a person, who had
believed again after being crushed by doubt, we could say
such words to him or her as:
When you speak, your words are genuine and true. We feel
accepted and respected by you.
Your faith is clearly shown in your behavior.
You will be a threat to those whose houses of faith are
held together by tape and wire and string and who pretend to
believe and who make a great show, but who on the inside are
full of emptiness and staleness, brittle-ness and dust.
You will cause a light to shine on sham religion and there
will be some who will be vindictive.
The explosion at the corner last Sunday can cause us to
look at the explosion that can come at tour centers, the
collapsing of our spirit, if we have carelessly claimed to
believe, or mimicked the belief of others, and have no faith
that is our own. The admission of our doubt, painful though
it is, can be the first step to regaining a life of faith and
can return us to authentic living in God's presence. God's
love is real and his commandments are sure and the community
of persons seeking to know what it is to be fruitful is a
rich place to set yourself. May He shed his grace on each one
of us as we seek truth and walk in faith. Amen.
Mr. Speaker, please join me in recognizing the 40th anniversary of the Kopper Kettle explosion in Auburn.