August 19, 2012
PREACHER: Pastor Carrie B. Smith
John 6:51-58
This changes everything.
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
I have really great neighbors.
Our little block is populated by two policemen, one fireman, a judge, an addiction counselor, a retired professor, several teachers, and (of course), two pastors. We like to claim it as the safest block in all of Crystal Lake!
But one of our neighbors, in particular, became a fast friend when he moved next door to us this spring. Chris is from Texas, and we were extremely excited to discover that he’s a master meat griller and smoker. Our neighbor Chris owns a state of the art barbeque grill with multiple levels, a burner on the side for sauces, a bottle opener, and quite possibly the ability to achieve a Mars landing, if you know how to work it. Chris…is awesome.
His wife and son are pretty nice, too.
At some point this summer, Chris mentioned to us how he really missed using Texas mesquite for smoking and grilling meat. Robert and I recalled this conversation when we were visiting family down south this July—and you can bet we found a way to smuggle three huge bags of mesquite wood from Lubbock to Crystal Lake, with visions of brisket and chops making our mouths water all the way home.
A day or so after returning home, we saw Chris and Kellie out on their back porch, so we proudly marched over toting the three bags of mesquite to present as a gift. Chris came down off the porch to meet us.
In retrospect, we did notice a funny look on his face when he saw what we were hauling. Robert announced loudly, “Check it out! We brought you some mesquite!”
To which Chris replied, “Oh, man, you’re not going to believe it, but we went vegan last week.”
Without even blinking, my dear spouse kept on walking toward the grill, saying, “Yeah, right. That’s a funny one! When’s the next party? We’ll provide the pool, you provide the beef!”
It was when I looked at Chris’s wife’s face that I knew this vegan thing was no joke. Our neighbors--our meat-loving, backyard grilling, Texas foodie friends--had decided to become vegans while we were away on vacation.
No more chops! No more brisket! No more burgers or ribs! I’m sure our growling stomachs spoke as loudly as our disappointed faces.
But then, it’s not all about us, is it? So Robert and I exclaimed, “Oh, that’s great! Wow! What prompted this change?” And Chris and Kellie outlined for us the radical shift they were making, in response to a change in values and priorities, transforming their entire relationship to food and to the dinner table. As good neighbors and friends, we offered our wholehearted support for their new lifestyle choice and promised to hold a backyard pool party soon.
Chris and Kellie promised to bring some grilled veggies.
Walking back home, it struck me how sometimes food is more than food. Sometimes eating is more than just dinner. Sometimes, the dinner table itself becomes a place of transformation, changing the way we relate to our neighbors and to the world.
For several weeks now, our Gospel lessons have been focused on the table as a place of transformation. The Gospel writer, John, has been taking us in circles, expounding on Jesus as the bread of life, Jesus as the bread from heaven, Jesus as the true bread, Jesus as the bread that removes our hunger forever.
But in today’s Gospel lesson there’s one word in particular that stands out, and that is: “eat.”
• Whoever eats of this bread will live forever
• “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”
• Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.
• Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life
• Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.
• Whoever eats me will live because of me
• Your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever
Eight times, in just eight verses, Jesus tells us that eating changes everything. Other food is just food, but there is bread we can eat which gives eternal life. There is bread that means life is worth living here and now. There is bread that has the power to transform the world, and that bread is Jesus’ own body.
Communion is such a part of what Christians do on Sunday morning that perhaps its transformative, counter-cultural, subversive nature is lost to us. And yet, when we hear the words, “This is my body, given for you” and place the bread in our mouths, this isn’t a symbol or a reenactment. Instead, as Lutherans we proclaim that Jesus, beyond all understanding and in spite of our unbelief, is present in, with, and under this bread and wine.
And that means that in eating and drinking we become one with a body that touched lepers, consorted with prostitutes, ate with tax collectors, challenged authorities, preached truth to power, suffered next to criminals in a public execution, and defeated the power of death. When we eat the bread and drink the cup, we are ingesting, digesting, and confessing the body of Jesus, who gave his life for the sake of the world.
This is much more than dinner! This is so much more than food. This is transformative eating. this changes everything. Jesus Christ, present for us at this table, in bread and wine, transforms the way we relate to our neighbors and the world by giving us his own body.
On a regular day, dinner is hardly ever transformative.
Martin Luther King, Jr., once said, “It is appalling that the most segregated hour of Christian America is 11 o’clock on Sunday morning.” Sadly, this remains largely true. But coming in at a close second today must be the dinner hour.
Without even discussing the demise of the home-cooked family dinner, it’s easy to see how we are divided by race, age, economics, class, and even politics at the dinner hour.
Children sit at the kids’ table or are left at home with the sitter. The over 65 crowd eats at the buffet or at a completely different hour than the rest of us. Foodies and locavores choose the hippest new local dive. Suburbanites flock to Applebee’s and Chili’s while city dwellers avoid them like the plague. Urban Spoon helps us choose a spot with two dollar signs or four, and offers reviews to help us avoid “sketchy” neighborhoods. Even fast food separates us. Do you buy your coffee at Starbucks or Conscious Cup? Do you go to Chick-Fil-A or Wendy’s? And what will your choice say about you?
And that’s just it: above all else, the dinner hour is segregated by choice. Look around the restaurant or even your dining table and you’re likely to see someone who looks just like you, spends money like you, votes like you. Dinner companions are chosen for maximum comfort and compatibility. On a typical day, we eat the bread of segregation and drink the wine of convenience. There’s nothing transformative about this menu.
But then, on Sunday, we come to the Lord’s table, where Jesus has invited everybody. All y’all come, as my Texas family would say!
While it’s true that our churches still don’t reflect the full beauty and diversity of the kingdom, look around you today and you’ll see that you’re probably sitting next to someone in a different age bracket. When you come to the table, you will likely be standing next to someone with much more—or much less—education than you possess. When you reach out, open-handed, you will receive the same bread as that one church member you need to forgive—and will drink the same wine as the one you hope will forgive you.
This is Jesus’ body, given for you…and for you…and for you…and for you. No matter who you are. No matter how you vote. No matter what you can pay. No matter what you did before you showed up here.
This is the radical, subversive nature of eating the bread that is Jesus. The bread we eat is the flesh Jesus gave for the life of the world—the whole world!—and with this bread and this cup we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.
Eating this bread changes everything. Eating this bread means we become a body that unites, not divides. Eating this bread means we become a body that lives for others, not for ourselves. Eating this bread means we go out from this place transformed into a people that sees the world with new eyes.
At this table, for this one moment, we catch a glimpse of what it will be like to dine in the kingdom of heaven. How then, can we ever be the same? How will Jesus, true food and true drink, transform you this week?
Let’s sing together:
Be present at our table Lord. Be here and everywhere adored. These mercies bless and grant that we, may strengthened for your service be. Amen.
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