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next page »To the Table Spread ~ Isaiah 55:1-9
Well, I’m looking at the table and I see the communion dishes set up again, and I was filled with this kind of agitation, like didn’t we just do this two weeks ago? This communion thing?
Well, yes, we did. And we are going to do it again this morning - and by intinction. We will move towards the table to take a bit of bread and dip it in the juice. And once again, Clover and I will be poised at the railing to offer an anointment blessing.
When I was young and attending the New York Avenue Church, we did Communion only 4 times a year! And until 2 or 3 years ago when the “radicals” on the Ministry of Worship changed it - we were “doing it” no more than 7 times a year at Forest Hill.
And just to get you thinking, the Worship Ministry is even pondering recommending to the Session to “do it” on Easter Sunday. We have never done that before. Serving 500+ people makes me feel a little tense and agitated.
But Catholics and Episcopalians do it all the time and at the opening worship service of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, they served over 5,000 were served communion. And they heard a sermon and there were two anthems and it all happened within an hour and fifteen minutes. Now that is doing it decently and in order!
John Calvin - upon whose theology our Presbyterian Church is founded - believed that whenever the Word was preached the Sacrament should be served (so at least weekly).
Now Communion truthfully raises lots of questions and reactions. I remember many years ago when we began to serve the Lord’s Supper by intinction some one said: “This is soooo Catholic” and they didn’t mean that as a compliment. Of course, on the other hand, there are many among us who were raised in the Catholic church who say they just LOVE it!
Intinction has become the “norm” for us now. But I still hear the question, “What happened to the traditional way?” Meaning having 16 Elders come forward and get the elements and serve you in the pew with little white bread cubes and little glasses of grape juice. In some of the more formal churches the ushers actually wore morning coats to serve the elements. There was such a sense of formality.
I remember back in the 60’s when the hot question that the youth group raised to the youth minister was, “Why can’t hamburgers and Coke be served instead of bread and wine?”
And needless to say the whole body and blood thing is peculiar. Clover and I have seen children do a double take and really peer into the cup to make sure it is grape juice. And why grape juice and not wine? Of course some of the early skeptics about Christianity accused the church of cannibalism - and no wonder.
And if we do the sacrament so often, won’t it lose its specialness? Maybe, but you can say that about a whole lot of things - the Lord’s prayer for instance, or the sermon, or sex, or food. Too much of a good thing is bad for you, I guess.
And what is the difference in the titles: Lord’s Supper, Communion, Eucharist? And what is “transubstantiation” and “consubstantiation”? What do Presbyterians believe?
Well, let’s look at those titles. Remember - the Lord’s Supper is in memory of Jesus’ last supper in the upper room before his death. He was with his disciples and they were eating what was either a Passover meal or a pre-Passover meal - and Jesus re-interpreted this central liturgical act of Judaism and turned it into a new feast remembering his forthcoming sacrifice and death. He said, “Do this in remembrance of me.” St. Paul didn’t know much of the life of Jesus but he knew about Jesus’ word - the breaking of the bread was bedrock to the early church. This sacramental meal goes way back!
Communion - reminds us that we do this meal of Jesus in community - it isn’t a solo act. And what is really profound is that this community is not only located only in this particular time and space but that we are in communion with all those who have gone before throughout time and space and we enjoy a cosmic reunion - we are connected with the beloved community every time and every place. We are not alone.
Eucharist - comes from the Greek word eucharisteo, which means to “give thanks” emphasizing joy! We are not engaged in a memorial service or a funeral procession with glum, serious faces. Rather, this is the joyful foretaste of the kingdom feast (I just hope there is a little more food when we get there!) In our space and time we are creating a kingdom moment where all are welcomed. We come from the east and west and north and south to celebrate a presence and to both remember the past and re-member - bring the body together, bring the members of the body together again in a present moment so that we can move with confidence into a hopeful future.
Presbyterians believe that Jesus is really spiritually present - here. These are not mere symbols. Incarnated in the body of believers, Jesus offers himself to you, as you offer yourself to him.
In breaking bread and sharing the cup, and coming forward, we really are participating in an act of such radical significance.
For this table is open - this is not a club - it’s open to all who seek after Jesus, whatever that might mean to you.
You are invited to this table not because you have answers but you have questions and Jesus says: “Come and see.” You come forward not because you are fulfilled (although you might be) but because in your emptiness you stand in need of God’s assurance of love. You come forward not to express an opinion or theological stance, but to seek a presence and to pray for a spirit. You come just as you are, with doubt and certainty, with pain and joy - and no one will turn you away - where else do you get that?
At last, at last in a church, it isn’t about theology or politics - or having the “right answer” - it is about presence and trust. As Henri Nouwen once wrote: “in communion we remember the presence of the ONE (Jesus) who remembers us!” Jesus knows you.
And I love it when you come forward and if you are wearing a name tag so that Clover and I don’t have a brain freeze (for sometimes you just blank out on a name, even with someone you’ve known for 20 years!), we can greet you by name. We recognize you, just as Jesus recognizes you for who you are and accepts you as a beloved child. And I think we need to hear that often (I know I do.)
And we are reminded that we are part of a large community of hope - and that from this table so fed we move out into the world in joy, thankgiving - not in despair… for we are a kingdom people, and we trust that the kingdom will come and we can help create it now, and we might even catch glimmers of it in our homes, and at work and at school, and within our relationships. That the kingdom is coming and is here - so close, it is brushing by - and we look around and see every Tom, Dick and Harry and every Thelma and Louise and Margaret - and we see us - young and old, gay and straight, black and white - maybe we will “overcome one day” and “live in peace, one day,” and “walk hand in hand, one day.” Because we are making it happen now.
It is not a lot of words - just gentle ones: “The body of Christ broken for you. The blood of Christ shed for you. The cup of Salvation.”… and you bow your head and receive a blessing and you go forth and the music is lovely and the moment is quiet and it is as if the whole myriad of saints and martyrs and angles and arch- angles and all the company of heaven is present - we are not alone, isolated in a pew - we are caught up in a band of angles marching forward into life.
And I hear the words of the prophet Isaiah: “Ho, everyone who thirsts come.” “You with no money - you will be fed.” You, who are in exile from you homes, from your selves, just like the Jewish people were in Isaiah’s day - DELIGHT for a moment. Be present for a moment.
Listen carefully - “incline your ear” says the Lord, lean into me for I am leaning towards you. God is whispering “I haven’t forgotten you. The covenant I made with David is still good. I will show you… in time, in my time, and even in your time - you will see.”
Doesn’t that stir you just a little bit? That God knows YOU and hasn’t fogotten YOU and even if you feel the heavy weight of exile - it isn’t over…yet.
You and I come forward and dip the bread and we arrive at the thin spot - where heaven and earth touch, and God is leaning close, and the divine and human brush, and “the hopes and fears of all the years” are met - and there is no distinction between us anymore.
And so we leave this place having partaken of the feast - and we are agitated so to live - holding up the vision and living the dream where all God’s children are welcome - and we can make it happen through our hospitality. And you are called to offer your best for God’s highest service. And so we work for equity, and for sustainability, and for justice, for the children, for our communities - because we caught a glimpse of what it can be.
The Lord can be found here and now - so seek after him with all your might.
Call upon God - and hear your name called - and sometimes just recognition is enough, almost better than success - because what carries you through the failures, and the disappointments and the disasters - is knowing that somebody knows.
It is a time for trying again, for turning from temptation, moving away from wickedness, forsaking it in your life and in the world and saying: “I am going to try to do it differently starting now.”
Return to the Lord. Trust that God will abundantly pardon. We are invited to this mystical but practical reality. You and I are lifted into the heavens and the heavens brought close.
Now I don’t know if we will ever serve communion weekly here. At some level I don’t know if that is necessary. We serve communion once a month and then on Ash Wed. and Maundy Thursday and 9:00 a.m. on Easter morning and at reatreats and special gatherings.
But now, today, listen and delight and come forward and receive and know you are named and claimed and loved and empowered - take and eat, do this in remembrance of me!
AMEN
Repentance ~ Luke 13:31-35
Well, we’re a week and a half in - how’s Lent going for you? Did you resolve to give something up this year?…
My own Lenten resolution this time around was to take something on, in hopes that the discipline will develop into a habit that continues past the 40-days-plus-Sundays and become a part of my life. I knew at the outset that I would need to be gentle with myself for failure to follow through consistently, and indeed results are mixed thus far, but not a complete failure.
Here’s the resolution: pray in every encounter. Pause, for a least a moment, to ask God’s blessing on the sender of the email, the face behind the Facebook post, the voice on the phone line; the other bodies sweating at those exercise machines, the other drivers on the road, the other shovelers of snow, or the irritating non-shovelers, or the even more irritating ones who pile their snow on my sidewalk; the cashiers and shoppers, the humans behind the junk mail, the authors of articles and the human need represented in their subject matter. Even, though this is a particular challenge, the people espousing the ideas that it’s my job to contend against.
I freely admit that I can go for hours forgetting to do this, but then I get reminded and I add a prayer of confession, a prayer for - not strength exactly, but resolve, recommitment, and help to move forward. Lately in my life I have not cultivated a strong prayer practice, so this Lenten discipline has provided a valuable attentiveness tune-up - attentiveness both to what’s going on around me, and to God who is a part of every moment. Attentiveness to the connections among us all, for I do believe, with my whole heart, that every single one of us matters to God, who knows each of us intimately and yearns for our well-being, each one.
We’re just a week and a half in on Lenten journey, 2010; my experiment is in the early stages. And of course the journey of faith doesn’t end with Lent. Our Gospel lesson this morning comes on Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem but foreshadows the death that he already knows is waiting; he receives a warning, but is undeterred. Despite the threats, Jesus is focused on his ministry - preaching about the reign of God, casting out demons and performing cures to demonstrate God’s gracious rule, yet calling his listeners to account: God wants you to participate in what God is doing, but there are choices to make. Jesus’ lament for Jerusalem is a plaintive call for repentance that comes with an acknowledgment of what the people’s failure to repent will cost him. “Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”
What a tender image! Come, children of God, gather close so that I can embrace you, protect you, hold you in my presence! But notice - in order to come close to Jesus, we have to come close to one another as well. That mother hen can’t keep her chicks under her wings if they are fighting, shunning, or running away from each other.
I was struck by last week’s adult ed program, when Ken Jones talked about the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, one of the ways that nation set about recovering from the horrors of apartheid without resorting to wholesale revenge; where victims and survivors of violence and other abuses were allowed to tell their stories, and perpetrators could account for their actions and seek amnesty. Particularly intriguing is the African concept of ubuntu, as described by Archbishop Desmond Tutu:
“Ubuntu is the essence of being a person. It means that we are people through other people. We cannot be fully human alone. We are made for interdependence, we are made for family. When you have ubuntu, you embrace others. You are generous, compassionate. If the world had more ubuntu, we would not have war. We would not have this huge gap between the rich and the poor. You are rich so that you can make up what is lacking for others. You are powerful so that you can help the weak, just as a mother or father helps their children. This is God’s dream.
“Ubuntu embraces hospitality, caring about others, being able to go the extra mile for the sake of others. We believe that a person is a person through another person, that my humanity is caught up, bound up, inextricably, with yours.
“When I dehumanize you, I inexorably dehumanize myself. The solitary human being is a contradiction in terms and therefore you seek to work for the common good because your humanity comes into its own in belonging.”
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission gave concrete application to the realization that resentment, anger, hatred, are forces as destructive to those who harbor them as to those against whom they aimed, and completely destructive of community well-being. Seeking both truth and reconciliation, they witnessed the ability of victims to forgive their torturers-and of former torturers to transform their lives. Bishop Tutu calls it the greatest evidence of God’s power and love. Ubuntu: Listening, being attentive to one another, we begin to see the world from one another’s perspectives. The oppressed regain their human dignity in telling their stories and being heard; the oppressor’s humanity is restored by the power of forgiveness, with the awareness that all are part of the same human family regardless of circumstance. We all nurture the image of God in ourselves, and look for the image of God in the other.
South Africa under apartheid is an extreme example of evil I daresay - few of us have endured the state-sanctioned murder of our children, to name but one abuse, nor have we pulled the trigger - and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission is a remarkable witness. But we have our own less dramatic challenges to the recognition of our common humanity -insensitivity, mocking or cursing political opponents, using more than my share of the world’s resources, failure to see how my actions affect the whole, to name just a few that I must personally acknowledge. And here’s the thesis I want to advance this morning, a message in the somber tones of Lent as we make our own way to Jerusalem, but not only for Lent: in exchanges of wrongdoing, whether we are the victim or the perpetrator, if we would be gathered into Christ we need to repent. If we’re making our way through life relatively conflict-free, we need to repent. If we’re rather oblivious to it all, we need to repent. If we’re single-mindedly intense, we need to repent. By the power of Jesus, the human face of God, contemplating his own death and crying instead over the death of Jerusalem, we need to repent.
Now when I say we need to repent, my emphasis is not on figuring out everything we’ve done wrong, feeling rotten about it, apologizing and vowing to do better - although we could do worse than that. There’s a place for the searching and fearless moral inventory, and without it we might be carrying baggage that impedes our journey with Jesus; recognizing what’s weighing us down and letting that go will not diminish us, but will help to make us whole. Not a bad idea to get introspective and self-critical sometimes. But that’s not the whole story, not even the primary plot. Where some of us are more weighed down by self-righteousness and unwarranted self-satisfaction, in others the problem is self-hatred, and there are ways in which those are bound up together.
No, when I insist that we all need to repent regardless of how few or many sins we can count or ignore, the emphasis is on the word in Hebrew, shuv, which means ‘to turn,’ and in Greek, metanoia, which means ‘to change one’s mind.’ As Frederick Buechner puts it, “To repent is to come to your senses… True repentance spends less time looking at the past and saying, ‘I’m sorry,’ than to the future and saying ‘Wow!’” And friends, the future we look to in Christ is ubuntu: the future is in recognizing, honoring, celebrating our common humanity - that is to say, the image of God in one another - along with the other children gathered in Jesus’ caring embrace. Seeking the good even of those who would discount or harm us, knowing that our well-being is bound up together. Repentance means assuming our own share of the truth and reconciliation enterprise, both knowing our own belovedness and opening doors for the most cramped spirits to rediscover theirs as well. It’s not about guilt, it’s about restoring right relationship. And until we’re right with our sisters and brothers - that would be every other human being, folks - we cannot be wholly right with God.
Lent may be a time for sober reflection, but it doesn’t have to be somber. Turning to Christ, building community under his sheltering wings, isn’t always easy - but it is a re-orientation toward life, and joy. If you’re giving something up for Lent, do that so that you have more room in your life to take on what is satisfying and productive.
Ubuntu.
Amen.
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