Sermon for Pentecost X
Last Sunday I was having brunch with old friends. Our table bustled with the joyful noise of family: Cousins poking each other, sisters laughing, a mom and dad overseeing the whole display, brimming with glee. I was privileged to be part of this gathering, not being related in any technical way with the group. But there I was, invited into this family, through love. At the end of the meal, my friend Mark reaches over and, with a piece of toast, sops up my leftover egg. In some circles this may be considered crass or rude, but it wasn’t. No this was an act of love. An intimate act of familiarity between good friends. No worries about social mores, of what others may think---just one person being drawn to something the other has. This wasn’t a hostile acquisition. This man, whom I love like a brother, reached across in the familiarity of old friends and absorbed what I had left. It was one of the most intimate and loving acts I have ever witnessed. We laughed about it remarking, “he just couldn’t stand seeing that leftover yolk sitting there, he had to eat it.” Mark was drawn to what I had and, in our mutual love, he felt comfortable enough to take it. And I felt comfortable enough to give it.
While much grander than any egg yolk on a breakfast plate, God’s love also pulls, beckoning us to partake.
The German theologian, Karl Rahner describes this attraction, this pull, this being drawn toward as fundamental to our human nature. As Rahner sees it, the Holy Mystery which is God, indescribable, unidentifiable, difficult to grasp, is so attractive to us that if we just stop trying to explain, quantify and tame it allowing ourselves to be taken in to be drawn, we will find rest in the loving embrace of God.
The problem is, according to Rahner, while this draw toward the Holy Mystery is part of our human nature, within our DNA, so is our desire for definition, prescription and certainty. We may feel a tug toward God but before giving into that pull we want to dissect, inspect and diagnose it.
That’s what was happening in today’s Gospel , smack dab in the middle of what is known as John’s “Bread of Life Discourse.” Jesus is explaining that he isn’t just some itinerant preacher from the backwater of Galilee, son of Mary and Joseph….no he is God’s Son, God in the flesh sent to us by our creator who is so drawn to us, so wants to reach us that he came to walk among us, to bring us home.
It’s easy as we hear these gospel excerpts to get caught up in the earthly image the words depict: Jesus’ flesh is the Bread of Life, a bread we must partake of to enter into eternal life with God. Not an easy image—it never has been. The early church was often accused of cannibalism—I think it’s easy to understand why. To this day it’s a popular way for detractors to condemn Christianity in general and our own Anglican belief in the Real Presence at Eucharist in particular, but to get caught up in that minutiae is to miss the point.
As Biblical Scholar Ray Brown states: The Jesus of John used language of this world to refer to the realities of the world from which he came.” (pg378 Intro to New Testament).
Jesus is using language we are familiar with to try and explain God. To try and explain a mystery so incomprehensible, so impossible to describe that whenever humans have tried to put words to it, we’ve failed. Speak to anyone who has had a near death experience----they try to explain a bright light, a peacefulness beyond anything they’ve ever known…but in the end they admit--words fail them. The ancient Jews knew the inexplicableness of God so well so they would never attempt to speak the name of God... They knew then, as we know now, that comprehending God’s full nature is beyond us. God’s love is so immense and so all encompassing we cannot tame it, we cannot hold it and we cannot describe it.
And therein lies the tension so clearly described in today’s Gospel reading.
Jesus is talking about all things heavenly, but he is heard with ears firmly encased in all things earthly. Jesus states that he is the Bread of Life. Not the bread of Moses, not the bread of bakers, or the bread of grocery aisles, but the bread of God, the bread of eternal light, the bread of a love so great, so immense, so massive it defies description, breaking free of the constraints of language, it knows no bounds.
Yes, Jesus is the Bread of Life but to receive this bread, to eat of it always we must embrace God in the person of Jesus Christ, allowing ourselves to be caught up in God’s mutual draw: our draw toward God and God’s reaching out toward us. To be caught up in this love means we must empty ourselves of our inhibitions, our worries, our doubts and come to the altar of God to be fed--fed with a love which we don’t earn, a love we needn’t understand and a love we can’t define….a love which, when we let go, will wash over us, a love we can sop up with the toast of our souls, a love which. when we’re open to receiving it, is a never ending meal of sacrifice and thanksgiving nourishing us as nothing else can.
In a few moments we’ll break bread together, presenting ourselves at this altar full of failings, full of questions and full of fear. Leave those here and walk away filled with the Bread of Life. A Bread which, while incomprehensible to each and every one of us, nourishes us in ways we cannot imagine yet so desperately crave.
Amen+
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