Gospel: John 6:51-58
When I was young, my brother and I used to spend a lot of time together – playing with our Star Wars action figures or using entire Saturdays to explore the woods on the 200-acre dairy farm where we lived for a few years (just a few miles from here). In those days our interests were somewhat similar, and for the most part we enjoyed doing many of the same things. However, as we got older things began to change and we grew in different directions. Our interests diverged and we found ourselves disagreeing on things on which we used to find common ground. I have vivid memories of an exasperated yell of “You’re not playing right!” when old, easily-met expectations fell by the wayside.
Times change; children grow into adults; views change. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t miss the days when the worst thing was disagreeing about a game. Instead, we all must deal with the challenges of the adult world of today. Rather than arguing over the outcome of a game or a childhood adventure, we instead see disputes growing out of an unwillingness to accept the differences that make people unique.
Instead of not liking how someone plays, there are those who don’t like how someone prays … or votes … or expresses their opinions on a variety of issues. Rather than accepting differences, rather than embracing them and learning from them, we instead see disputes arise. Anger or mistrust develop because it’s hard to live up to the expectations of others.
At varying levels depending on the day of the week, I’m hooked into social media and see first-hand how quickly emotions rise and passions become inflamed. Because of the instant nature of it, responses are posted faster than we can sometimes keep ahead of them – and anger can rise with the speed of a wildfire in a parched field. Thoughtful dialogue is often replaced by heated exchanges, and sadly in some instances with insults and the denigration of one another.
Something I’ve seen on more than one occasion is a variation of this statement: if you don’t agree with me, you can’t be my friend.
If you don’t agree with me, you can’t be my friend.
Rather than embracing differences, the default for many these days is to deflect them. This saddens me – and for those who would ask “I wonder if God cries,” my answer to them would be that God does cry … and I am sure that among others, God cries for this very reason.
In this world of division and discontent, a world where we often see people turn from rather than embrace one another, it’s often hard to find common ground. Some would ask where we can come together … what place we can find where differences are cast aside. I’m here this morning to tell that for us as Christians, there is a place where we can turn, a place where all divisions may cease.
It’s this table – and I’d say this: to fully understand this table you must understand that it’s unlike any other table – and that it’s exactly like every other table.[1] It’s at this table that we gather not just as Christians, not just as worshippers, but as a family, just as any other family gathers at a table for a meal.
But it’s a table that’s far different and far more significant. It’s the table we approach in our brokenness to accept the body and blood of the broken Christ. In the brokenness of our Savior, we move closer to being made whole. And this meal is far different: it’s the meal instituted by Christ, the meal during which we eat the flesh and drink the blood Christ offers us, as we heard in the reading from the Gospel of John.
The sacrament of the Eucharist is not something that God simply drops on us. It’s something that already is us, something that unites God’s work with our own. The elements of bread and wine are a combination of what God provides and what we as humans bring back – the grain and the grapes provided by God that we harvest, convert, and bring back to this table.[2]
Many times in my life I’ve heard people refer to coming on Sunday mornings as the act of gathering as a church family. I would suggest dropping the word “church” and simply acknowledging that by blood and by bond, we are family – nothing more, nothing less. We’re family simply because we’re all the children of God. We’re a family unified by gathering at this table and accepting the body and blood of Jesus.
Several years ago I found this quote posted on the Twitter feed of the theologian Jürgen Moltmann. Amid the chaos of social media, Moltmann shared this gem on social media:
When we discern the suffering his passion for us endured, and endures still, then we are disarmed. We become freed of our tense self-endorsement. We become receptive for other people. Prejudices fall like scales from our eyes. We become attentive, interested, enter into others and give ourselves. Other people no longer make us feel insecure, because we no longer need to affirm ourselves.[3]
I pray we always allow the unity we share at this table to filter into the world beyond this place. I pray we allow the unity we share at this table to overcome any differences and any divisions we encounter in our lives and the lives of others. I pray the love and respect we share at this table as brothers and sisters be modeled in the love and respect we’re called to show for every human being. I pray the sacrifice of Christ that we’re reminded of each time we gather at this table be reflected in the sacrifices we make for those around us.
Amen.
[1] Lecture by The Rev. James Farwell, Virginia Theological Seminary, September 21, 2016.
[2] Ibid.
[3] https://twitter.com/moltmannjuergen/status/746987902949822464