Proper 15 year B
August 19, 2018
I remember the first time I walked into an Episcopal church. I was probably about 22 years old, and still in the Navy. I had grown up in the Roman Catholic church. My parents didn’t go, but I would go with a friend of mine and her family usually on Saturday nights. What I liked about Saturday night church is that you could dress a little more casually, and so, I chose to wear my silver glitter marshmallow shoes. If you don’t know what those are, just google it. They were very popular in the 70’s and I loved mine. They were at Saturday evening mass every Saturday that I went…
Anyway, when my dad died, I stopped going to church… I had tried to go back at various times when I was in the Navy, but for lots of reasons that aren’t important, it just didn’t seem to stick. When I got sober, I knew that I needed church in order for my recovery to succeed. That may not be true for everyone, but it’s true for me. I went to different churches back then; it was an eye opening experience because where I grew up you were either Catholic or Jewish; I didn’t know anything else existed until I was an adult. Anyway, I found out about the Episcopal church while attending a class on European history. We were learning about the Reformation, and talked briefly about what that looked like in England, and how the Church of England was the mother church of the Episcopal Church here in the US. Then my teacher made some off handed comment about “Catholic but no Pope” and my ears were suddenly interested. I went home that night, and looked in the phone book and discovered that I lived near the Cathedral in San Diego. So, I went to church that Sunday. I walked in, and suddenly, I realized I was home… I realized as I looked at the service bulletin, the stained glass, the kneelers, and of course, the altar, I realized that I had come home. As communion started, I realized what I had been missing in all those churches I had visited. There was something about seeing a priest at an altar, taking bread, blessing it, breaking it and giving it, that spoke to me deeply. As I lifted my hands to receive, I knew somehow that there was more to what I was receiving than mere bread. Somehow, I knew that Jesus was there, and that I was taking in his presence; I knew I was changed, and I know that I am changed each time I receive communion.
Communion, or Eucharist, which comes from the greek word for Thanksgiving, is, I think, the single most important thing that you and I do together. The church does many things; and most of those things are very good! But many of those things can be done in other places, with other people… but it is only when we gather as the church, not necessarily in the church but as the church, and we say the ancient prayers which turn bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ… that is when we are truly doing what the church does; it is our primary calling to be fed with the flesh and blood of eternal life that only Jesus gives… and when we are fed, it is then that we can engage in the work Jesus has asked us to do…
And the thing is, we don’t have to come in some sort of state of readiness; because honestly, who is ready? Who is worthy? Who truly understands? Jesus asks us simply to come… and he takes care of the rest…
I brought a favorite Icon with me today. It’s called the beloved disciple, who tradition tells us is John, the writer of the gospel that bears his name. There are several things I love about this image. First, the beloved disciple comes to Jesus, hands outstretched, knowing that Jesus is the bread of life that came down from heaven. His face is not looking directly at Jesus perhaps because he cannot bring himself to believe he is loved enough to be in the Lord’s presence. Jesus, enfolds the disciple in an embrace while also blessing the bread and wine that he will share with the disciple. Both the disciple and Jesus show expressions of great love, and Jesus looks beyond the disciple in a way that invites us all to participate with them. At the bottom, the icon says, “My heart and my flesh cry out, O God, O living God”.
The disciple’s heart and flesh cry out for the living bread that comes down from heaven… his cry, his desire, is our desire. We come to this table as our hearts cry out for the flesh of the living God, which gives us the gift of eternal life, but perhaps even more importantly, makes us one with Jesus, not just in the next life, but in this one right here and now… Jesus joins us when we are broken and makes us whole; he joins us when we are ripped apart by our fear and anger, and gives us peace; he joins us in our sorrow and gives us joy… he joins us in our death and gives us life.
I have seen many hands extended just as the disciples’ hands are extended in the Icon. The disciple brings all that he is to the Christ who gives him everything… I sometimes get a glimpse of what the hands I see bring to the tables I have served… just a glimpse… the woman who was dying of cancer who had lost her hair; the family that traveled to another country to adopt the son they had wanted for so long; the beautiful hands of children who know exactly how to be thankful; hands of friends, hands of those who didn’t care if I was there at all; hands of those whose faith was a struggle; hands of the wealthy, the poor… all of them hands outstretched knowing somehow that Jesus is the bread that comes down from heaven, seeking healing, seeking wholeness, seeking… always seeking…
Today our hearts and our very flesh cry out to God… may we all find wholeness at this table. May we find peace… may we find life. If we come, I know that we shall.
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