12th Sunday after Pentecost, Year B

Donna G. Joy

1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58

While I was on holiday a family member of David's was getting married in Saskatoon so David and I were able to carve out some time to attend the wedding. One of the other guests was Auntie Joan from Sudbury; the last time we had seen her was a few summers ago when members of David's family on his dad's side gathered in in her home town of Sudbury.

Seeing her this summer reminded me of that summer visit a few summers before.

David's uncle Menno (Auntie Joan's husband) had died the previous winter and after his body was cremated the family decided to postpone the interring of his ashes until the summer in the hope that the widespread family could attend. So during that summer, we came from as far away as London, England; California; Manitoba; New Brunswick; Saskatchewan; and various parts of Ontario.

On the first night when we gathered we were, for the most part strangers. Uncle Menno, the last remaining uncle on David's dad's side was the glue that remained connected to the various branches of the family, so while each of us was connected to him, we weren't until that gathering terribly connected to each other. But Auntie Joan was prepared for this four day gathering. She was clearly thrilled that so many people made the effort to come, and wanted to make it abundantly clear that she loves us and longs for us to connect with her and each other.

And she expressed all of this primarily by feeding us. One night it was oven baked ribs with fresh corn on the cob and beans straight out of the garden; the next night it was a barbeque with everything you could possibly imagine and more (all homemade and mostly homegrown); lunch one day was fresh fish and chips on the dock in Killarney as was Menno's favourite, (auntie Joan's treat) – and the feast continued throughout our entire stay.

As we shared these meals we connected with each other. Auntie Joan's dining room is not large, but we made space and the warmth was palpable. There is something deeply significant about a meal, prepared with love, and shared with others. This is often the tie that binds.

And it is this simple truth that the God we worship adopted ever since the beginning of time.

God compares himself to the head of a household, feeding and nourishing the people of God.

23rd Psalm: "He prepares a table – especially for me..."

Our first reading, taken from The Book of Proverbs, speaks of Wisdom as a woman who invites people to attend and enjoy her banquet or feast.  As with so much within Proverbs, Christians believe that this passage points toward the coming of Jesus who will invite those who follow him to attend the feast: begun with the Last Supper.

This text is urging the reader to recognize that just as ordinary food is necessary for physical life, the gift of Wisdom (and embodied in Jesus) is necessary for fullness of life and relationship with God. And, participating in the banquet (for us, the Eucharist) is the way to fullness of life.

The Hebrew word for proverb can also mean 'comparison'. So this is the model upon which Jesus' parables were founded: Jesus would say, for example, "The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed..." – this model of teaching finds its origins in the Book of Proverbs. This passage this morning is comparing the nourishment of food for the body with the nourishment of Wisdom (which is for us, Jesus) for the soul. In other words, the nourishment of God can be likened to the way in which the head of a household nourishes those who attend her banquet.

"Wisdom has built her house, she has hewn her seven pillars. She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has also set her table...... Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight."

So, Lady Wisdom, builds a house, prepares a feast, and issues an open invitation. This Wisdom is the sustenance of the soul.

Well, as I've already mentioned, in keeping with much of Proverbs, this passage points the way to Jesus in whom the very Wisdom of God is embodied. And, who is the very food that sustains those who answer the call to follow him. As we are reminded in this morning's Gospel from John, Jesus said,

"I am the living bread (or in this morning's translation: 'the life-bearing bread') that came down from heaven. If and when anyone eats this bread, he/she will come to know just what it is to live forever. This bread that I will be giving is my own flesh, offered for the life of the world."

According to some noteworthy N.T. scholars, the common translation, "I am the living bread" could be seen as problematic, because when you translate the Greek into certain languages it comes to mean something like, "... bread that has some living objects in it."

These same scholars would lean towards a translation more in keeping with what we heard this morning, "I am the life-bearing bread" – that is, the bread which gives birth to life; bread which gives/causes life. This translation sheds particular light on the idea that each time we receive this Sacrament new life is born within us.

But still, sometimes I worry that the enormity of this message gets lost through the familiarity of the words. Because the message here is so huge, it is impossible to fully grasp.

In "Letters to Malcolm" C.S. Lewis said that he feels quite inadequate when it comes to talking or writing about Holy Communion. He said, "The command, after all, was Take, eat: not Take, and understand." And, for me, this rings true. At the centre of our faith we believe in a God who entered this world in the person of Jesus and became the very food that gives birth to new life within us; transforms us; feeds our soul for the rest of time.

Some of you may have seen any one of a number of shows on T.V. that tell the story of an "extreme makeover" – well John's gospel asserts that through consumption and participation in this meal we are renovated: made new, or restored to life -- we are renovated at the table, where we meet Jesus, and take his presence into ourselves. The effects of that renovation are not magical, nor do they necessarily produce any alteration in our outward appearance.

But the Bread of Life, making us like new, also makes us one. Again, it is the tie that binds.

It is in our renovated state, after the makeover is done at Christ's table, that we can live fully in the unity the Apostle Paul describes as the Body of Christ. After consuming the Sacrament we become what we have consumed; that is, the Body of Christ. This is why we, as Christians, are called to make room for the living Christ to bind us together, particularly in the midst of our differences.

Thomas Merton took this to heart. In his book 'The Living Bread' he says:

"Christianity is more than a doctrine. It is Christ Himself, living in those whom He has united to Himself in one Mystical Body. It is the mystery by which the Incarnation of the Word of God continues and extends itself throughout the history of the world, reaching into the souls and lives of all people, until the final completion of God's plan. Christianity is the re-establishment of all things in Christ.

Now Christ lives and acts in people by faith and by the sacraments of faith. The greatest of all the sacraments, the crown of the whole Christian life on earth, is the Blessed Eucharist, in which Christ not only gives us grace but actually gives us Himself. For in this most Holy Sacrament Jesus Christ Himself is truly and substantially present, and remains present as long as the consecrated species of bread and wine continue in existence. The Blessed Eucharist is therefore the very heart of Christianity since it contains Christ Himself, and since it is the chief means by which Christ mystically unites the faithful to Himself in one Body."

Here is where it is important to remember how Eucharistic theology differs among Roman Catholic and Protestant and Anglican traditions. The Roman Catholic church believes that with the prayer of Consecration the bread and wine actually become the body and blood of Christ. This would be defined as the real presence of Christ. Protestants believe that the bread and wine is symbolic; that is symbolizes the sacrifice that Christ has made for us.

Anglicans however, believe that with the prayer of Consecration Christ becomes truly present – Anglicans leave room for the great mystery of it all. This particular Eucharistic theology argues that Christ is genuinely present in these elements, but it is a spiritual presence, rather than a physical presence. That is, it is not a question of molecules of bread becoming molecules of human flesh. Instead, it is Christ coming to dwell within us, as he promised.

However, where most would agree is that this sacred meal is a critical way in which the living Christ feeds our souls. He loves us with a breadth and depth that is impossible to fully understand. And this signifies relationship, abiding in God as God abides in us – a new way of living.

I have spent most of my adult life exploring the meaning of the gift of this Sacred Meal and its significance for every day, ordinary Christians like you and me. It is a rich experience, too rich for words, but we may gain a broader sense of what it is about if we explore the various ways in which the church defines it. We actually speak of it by many names, each shedding light on a different aspect of this Sacred Meal.

We call it the Lord's Supper, which reminds us of that primal experience of table fellowship which was enjoyed by Jesus and his disciples and continued in the church. It is a supper in which Jesus is both the host and the nourishment.We call it Holy Communion, reminding ourselves that in this eating and drinking together we are in the very presence of Christ and our brothers and sisters in Christ. Taking Jesus into our bodies, digesting him, as it were, creates a mystical union with him, with God and with each other: so the sacrament of Lord's supper truly is communion.We call it the Eucharist which means 'to give thanks.' This reminds us that the Lord's Supper is an act of joy and thankfulness for the work of God in Jesus Christ.This meal in some circles is also referred to as the Mass. In the Mass, Christians receive the nourishment and sustenance they need in order to go out into the world to do the work that they are enjoined to do.

Like the different facets of a brilliant diamond, each of these names – The Lord's Supper, Holy Communion, Eucharist, the Mass – helps us to see some aspect of this meal in a new light.

Our experience that summer with Auntie Joan offered David and me a taste of what the living Christ has done and continues to do for us. She put a lot of thought and work and love into gathering a widely dispersed and perhaps fractured family, longed for them to connect with her and each other, and nourished each one of us with great banquets at every opportunity.

Well, the God we worship longs for us to be connected to the Godhead and to each other, so he sent His Son to make this happen. And each time we gather together for this meal, he continues to nourish us in ways that exceed our wildest imagination. Christ is both the host and the nourishment of this Sacred meal that feeds our souls, binds us together and transforms and empowers us to care for others as Christ cares for us.

Taste and see that the Lord is good. Happy are they who trust in Him.

 Among the resources used for this sermon: Raymond Brown; Johannes P. Louw; Eugene A. Nida; David Friesen's translation