Introduction
This is the homily I prepared for Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, based upon the Gospel.
Readings
1 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 34:1-8
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6:35-51
Prayer
Let us pray…
“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s] be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)
Homily
One of the trends I’ve noticed recently
in some prime-time television dramas
is a new and creative effect
that makes the words of the credits
or the time and location notes
appear to move and to rest
among the objects in the scene.
It’s harder to describe it
than it is to recognize it
when you see it in action.
But the effect is to make the words
appear to be a part
of the texture of the show,
rather than to be a label
placed in front of the images.
In some way, these words
entwined with the show
appear to be more embodied, more solid,
than the old style of labeling.
It’s a big leap from TV show credits
to Jesus Christ and his words
in this evening’s gospel,
but I think we can make it,
even if we have to take several steps.
And when we do, it will help us
to embrace Jesus’ message for us.
Those TV credits are words we can read,
but when they glide and slide
amid the walls of buildings
and the trees in parks,
casting shadows along the way,
they become somehow more tangible,
more like objects we can imagine
touching with our fingers
and holding in our hands.
St. Augustine, the great Church Father
wrote extensively about the Church,
drafting one of his most famous phrases
to describe what happens
when God comes to us
through something tangible, something we can touch:
“The Word comes to the element; and so there is a sacrament, that is, a sort of visible word.” (Augustine, In Johannem, 80, 3, in Visible Words, Robert W. Jenson, Fortress Press, Philadelphia, 1978, p. 3)
It helps to remember that phrase,
visible word,
when we reflect on the sacraments,
Baptism and Communion.
In both of them, God comes to us,
binding himself in the Word
to some common element we can touch,
promising to give himself to us
in that union of Word and element,
in the sacraments, or the visible words.
In Baptism,
as the Catechism reminds us,
it is not water alone that washes away our sins,
but the water together with God’s word of promise
that cleanses us and gives us life.
And in Communion,
we encounter God
in the bread and the wine we offer to him,
in the loaf and cup he blesses,
that we break and pour out,
and that we share with one another.
Like the credits in the TV shows
—only infinitely more so—
God’s Word, his Son Jesus Christ,
is entwined and enmeshed and enfleshed
in the things of this life,
the water and the bread and the wine,
so that he can be splashed and touched,
tasted and swallowed.
In the Meal of Holy Communion,
we trust that God comes to us,
that he forgives our sins,
that he heals the broken parts of our lives,
that he strengthens our faith,
that he binds us together in one community,
that he nourishes us for eternal life,
that he gives us a glimpse of the fellowship of heaven.
This is why Jesus says to the crowd gathered around him,
“I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (John 6:51, NRSV)
The people in the crowd are puzzled, conflicted, confused.
They wonder how a man they know,
whose parents they know,
could possibly make any sense
by claiming to have “come down from heaven.”
We, at least, have the benefit
of listening to this gospel
from the vantage of the cross and the resurrection.
We know that Christ is more than the rabbi from Galilee.
We know he is the Word for the World,
the one who died for all,
or as St. John writes in his gospel,
that Christ was lifted up, glorified,
and then raised from the dead.
So for us, the questions don’t come from wondering
whether that man who was the son of Joseph and Mary
could possibly be the bread of heaven.
The questions come to us from wondering
whether this Meal we share
really gives us what God promises.
Is it just a good community-building practice?
Is it just a bite of bread and a sip of wine?
If we feel closer to one another, and maybe to God,
isn’t that enough?
What if it’s all just some superstition, some empty tradition?
Questions like these may plague us
and work their way into our hearts.
And these doubts depend upon us
seeing just the bread and the wine,
but missing the words of promise
that bind themselves to the bread and wine
and make of the Meal a visible, tangible, digestible Word.
In the Gospel, Jesus says,
“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” (John 6:35, NRV)
And he also says,
“I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (John 6:51, NRSV)
The words and the elements and the actions
are all intertwined one with another.
Jesus invites us to come to him, to believe in him, to eat, to drink.
And when we do, he promises
—as only one who cannot have promises broken by his own death,
because his death is behind him—
he promises that he is the living bread,
that we who eat this bread will live forever,
so we will never be hungry or thirsty.
It helps us when we think of the equals sign from math class.
When we write statements that are true,
whatever we write on one side of the equals sign
is the same as what we write on the other side.
And in this Gospel,
Jesus uses an equals sign.
He is, or equals, the bread of life.
Coming to him is, or equals, believing in him.
Eating the bread is, or equals, coming and believing.
Eternal life is, or equals, never being hungry or thirsty.
These are the gifts of God for the people of God.
These are the ways that Jesus Christ gives himself to us.
And so, in just a few minutes,
we will come to the Table,
invited by the Father,
embraced by the Son,
and inspired by the Spirit
to encounter this bread of life and cup of salvation,
this visible word,
this sacrament.
And then, by God’s grace,
we will see and hear,
touch and taste,
the gifts of God given for us,
as the Psalmist sings:
“O taste and see that the LORD is good;
happy are those who take refuge in him.” (Psalm 34:8, NRSV)
Amen.