This sermon was preached on August 18 & 19, 2018 at Trinity Lutheran Church in Connellsville, Pennsylvania, using the texts for Lectionary 20 of the RCL.
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It’s becoming more and more common to meet people who have
not ever been to church and are not familiar with the language we use, the flow
of the service, or the prayers and hymns that are second nature to us who have
been coming to worship our whole life. In contrast, we often find that our
bodies and mouths work on auto-pilot – standing and sitting at the appropriate
times, moving effortlessly through the service, reciting the confession and the
Creed and the Lord’s Prayer whether we’re on the right page of the bulletin or
not.
For many people, though, it’s all foreign. Should they be
convinced to come sit on a hard wooden bench for an hour when all their friends
are sleeping in or going to brunch, they might stumble over the words that are
not part of our every-day discourse – resurrection of the body? Hallowed be thy
name? Forgive our trespasses?
They might scratch their head when a gold plate with money
in it gets passed around, or when everyone starts wandering around shaking
hands with one another. They might wonder what’s up with all the white robes,
and who these people are who are depicted in the colored glass. Without knowing
it, they might wonder again and again that key question from the Small Catechism
– What does this mean?!
I am especially mindful of this disconnect around the
practice of communion – how do we explain what it means to invite people to eat
and drink the body and blood of Christ? It sounds awfully cannibalistic,
especially in the way Jesus talks about it in today’s Gospel reading. “Very
truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son-of-Man and drink his
blood, you have no life in you.” If we’re really listening, perhaps “What?!
Gross!” is a better response than “Amen!”
But of course communion is not cannibalism. Neither is it
just a symbol, some benign re-enactment of the Last Supper. What is it then? To
what do we invite one another to partake of each week at the pinnacle of the
worship service? It is a mystery - not a whodunnit mystery, but a thing that is beyond our understanding; outside the bounds of science; something that fills us with wonder and is for us an exercise in trust. Somehow, in some way, Jesus is really, truly
present in, with, and under this ordinary bread and ordinary wine that we buy
at the store. And, more important than the theological mechanics of this are the
promises that this bread and wine, this body and blood of Christ, hold for us. What
are these promises?
In the body and blood of Christ, God promises to be with us.
We abide in God and God abides in us. We are welcomed, included, incorporated,
joined together – body and soul, past and future, no matter what. When we abide
in God, we abide with one another. At the table we receive what we are – the
body of Christ.
In the body and blood of Christ, God promises to nourish us.
Just as we need food to power our bodies and minds as we move about in the
world, so too do we need this life-giving meal to power us, body, mind, and
soul. With Christ’s body and blood, we are strengthened and nourished and filled
so that we can deal with the joys and challenges, questions and struggles that
life brings.
In the body and blood of Christ, God promises to forgive our
sin. We don’t come to this table once we’re good enough, kind enough, or
accomplished enough. Instead, we come to this table just as we are. We each
hear the good news that brokenness doesn’t define us. Guilt and shame don’t
define us. God’s love defines us. This love transforms us and leads us to
wholeness and peace.
In the body and blood of Christ, God promises to fill us
with life that is abundant and eternal. When we think of eternal life, perhaps
our first instinct is to say, “Oh. That means I’ll go to heaven when I die.”
Yes. And, perhaps more importantly, it means that we are filled with life now.
This abundant and eternal life is life characterized by forgiveness and
reconciliation. It is life that finds joy in community and in walking alongside
one another. This life is not perfect, not without difficulty, or heartache, or
pain, but it is life with and in God, who promises to be with us always.
These promises are made to us in the waters of baptism and
we are reminded of them again and again each time we eat the bread and wine
that are Jesus’ body and blood. These promises are trustworthy and true even
when we don’t understand, even when we forget, even when we wish that God would
just leave us alone, already. Because God’s promises are the focus, and not our
understanding, we are delighted to gather at God’s table with even the very
youngest among us as well as those whose memory and understanding have failed them.
God’s promises bring us life. These promises do not depend
on us upholding our end of some bargain. They do not depend on our worthiness
or understanding. No, they are pure grace. So come. Eat and drink the meal that
binds us to God. It is for you. The “how” of this meal is a mystery, but the
promises are clear. This ordinary bread and wine, combined with the promises of
God, is the very presence of Christ, with us and for us. In this meal, you are welcomed, loved,
forgiven, nourished, and filled with life. Thanks be to God. Amen.
We had some great discussion following the sermon at our monthly dinner church with these questions:
If you were raised in the church, share about a time you were surprised by a question/comment about church from someone unchurched/unfamiliar with your tradition.
If you were not raised in the church, what were/are the most confusing or surprising aspects of Christian belief or worship?
Which of the promises given to us in the body and blood of Christ is most meaningful or important to you at this stage of your life?
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