St. Paul in Greece. After traveling though the streets of Athens, Paul climbed halfway up the Acropolis and in the shadow of the Parthenon, Paul spoke to the learned Athenians. The Greeks called that outcrop of rock, Areopagus, or Rock of Ares, the Greek God of War. The Romans called that outcrop, Mars Hill. Mars is their God of War. In that militant setting, Paul spoke to the Athenians about Jesus. Jesus is God's Prince of Peace.

I get a lot of information in e-mails. I get even more mis-information and dis-information in e-mails. But what I get most are jokes - mostly jokes that have to do with bulletin bloopers and funny things kids say about God. There is one joke I have received over and again. Perhaps one of you sent it to me. More likely, thirty-five or forty of you sent it to me. A little boy in the church narthex says to his father, "What's that plaque on the wall?" "Son, those are the names of the men and women of our church who died in the service." "Died in which service? 8:30 or 11:00?"

Context is everything. If you've just gotten home on a Sunday morning, having sung some un-singable hymns, or having survived a long, boring, sermon, you're likely to chuckle at the boy's innocence, "Died in which service? 8:30 or 11:00?" However, you're less likely to chuckle about death in the service after reading last Thursday that seven American soldiers were killed in Afghanistan, as our country muddles forward in an un-winnable war. Context is everything. If you've lost a father, son, daughter or friend at Normandy, Pork Chop Hill, Khe Sanh, Fallujah, Kabul - you might not think the punch line is at all humorous "Died in which service? 8:30 or 11:00?" And certainly there are no chuckles as our country observes another three-day weekend - I mean, Memorial Day.

Even as we remember those who gave their lives for our country, we pray for that day when swords will be turned into plowshares and there will be no more war. No more war means no further names added to those who died during the service. Maybe it's only a pipe dream - but still, even pipe dreams are worth our prayers.

Memorial Day. It's too bad we need it - but we are thankful we have it. For the three-day weekend and the Indy 500 and the start of summer sales and the beginning of summer itself. We are happy about the family gatherings and the barbecues. But most of all we are thankful for Memorial Day and its reminder to remember. Those extraneous extras are nice ... as long as we remember to remember - those who have given lives for this land.

I think there's merit in the point of view that suggests each Sunday is a Memorial Day as we hear the words of Jesus, "This is my Body. This is my Blood. As often as you eat and drink, remember me." With that in mind, maybe I've overstated the case in recent sermons as I prattled on about the importance of our sense of community at Grace. If our outreach and fellowship and learning and parties ever begin to overshadow the essence of what it means to be "church," then Houston, we have a problem. Those ministries and this community are important to our identity as Grace, provided we remember to remember the words of Jesus, "As often as you eat and drink, remember me."

One of my favorite hits of Broadway, both the story and the music, is Camelot. A magical story of a mythical place, highlighting the exploits of King Arthur, whose base was a place called Camelot. He built a strong castle. His knights met at a Round Table. They carried out acts of chivalry, rescuing damsels in distress. Camelot was so idyllic that even this law was passed: July and August cannot be too hot.

But like all Utopias, Camelot was doomed to failure and in the last scene of the musical, King Arthur is alone on the stage - and he begs the audience to remember: "Ask ev'ry person if they've heard the story, And tell it strong and clear if they have not, That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory - Called Camelot." And he ends with the poignant words, "Don't let it be forgot that once there was a spot; For one brief, shining moment ... that was known as Camelot."

Barbara Lundblad, a Lutheran pastor now teaching at Union Seminary in Manhattan sums up those closing lines this way: "Keep the story going begs King Arthur. Pass it on to your children and your children's children; and in the very remembering, you will keep the dream alive. In the midst of the despair around you, recall this time, this special place. And, perhaps-who knows-perhaps this one brief, shining moment will come again."

Lundblad continues, "We're tempted to hear Jesus singing Arthur's song as he gathers with his disciples for the last time. Jesus knew he would soon be betrayed by one of his closest followers - betrayed, arrested, and finally killed. Here at the Passover table, Jesus spins out his last words to his closest friends. We can well imagine Jesus calling them to remember the wondrous wisp of glory they had shared, when light had come into the darkness of the world. With such a song the disciples could go on, sustained by the memory of this one great life, waiting and hoping Jesus would soon return."

The season of Easter is almost over. The butterflies will be grounded for another year. As a pastor - I have memories of Easter Sunday: the quiet dawn of our upper parking light as about forty of us gossiped together the early news that Christ was risen from the dead." And then the crowded sanctuary for two more liturgies, the instrumentalists and our wonderful choirs and the echoing alleluias. "Christ is Risen," I proclaimed. And you responded, "He is Risen indeed." It is the memory of Easter that sustains the inner pastor in me. Especially this day as our choir is reduced to a soloist, and many in our congregation are busy with the emphasis on a three day weekend! Oh yes - It is the memory of Easter Day that sustains the inner pastor in me.

The fictional Arthur had his round table and his knights in shining armor, and the plea not to forget Camelot. Jesus had this Last Supper and his disciples. "When you eat this bread," he said; "When you drink this wine," he said. "Remember!" And unlike Arthur, Jesus promises to be with us - always, "even unto the end of the age."

If enough of we three billion Christians in the world take these words of Jesus to heart, there will come a day when there shall be no more battles. If Christians remember Jesus, striving to live as he lived and love as he loved, there need be no more Memorial Days and war is but a distant memory. A pipe dream? Utopia? Pie-in-the-sky? Under the authority of Arthur and all earthly kings - surely impossible. But never forget: with God all things are possible! Especially for those of us who remember Jesus. Mars may be the God of War - but we pray for peace on earth.