1 Corinthians 11:17-34; Mark 14:12-25
Earlier I gave each of you a sparkler, which is based on a design of handheld fireworks dating back to 1850 and originating in Germany. If you’re like me you probably don’t care about that, and you are instead remembering some time in childhood when you twirled a stick of fire around, and maybe spelled your name. Maybe you remember the smell of the sulfur or hear the voices of family members...trying to keep you from setting off the rest of the fireworks...no? Just me?Fireworks fascinate us and do weird things to our brains. Studies have been made over the years to try to figure out what they do to our brains and why they fascinate us so much. Some studies have shown neuron patterns that fire off in the exact same shape as the clouds of colored lights we see. Some suggest that even talking about them creates similar patterns that can create a similar sense of euphoria just by recalling the memory of them.
Other studies focus on the way that these controlled explosions set off endorphins related to a fight or flight response that makes us feel a primal sense of control over things that threaten us. Of course, for those who have suffered under the fog of war, these blasts can take the person back in time not only in memory but emotionally as they relive the terrors they have faced.
For those who have endured such trauma and who continue to suffer from it, we must do our best to be mindful of their needs in our neighborhoods and homes; and we must advocate for their care medically, psychologically, and spiritually; and we must remember that they fought in the hope that, one day, all wars may cease.
My hope is that the sparkler you hold will be something you can use to celebrate not only our freedom and those who fought for it, but also the hope that we can become more like the Kingdom of God together. When I say we, I don’t mean just the USA. I mean all of us, regardless of nation or heritage. In fact, I would say that our Book of Confessions compels us to let go of the illusion that our nation is the means by which God will save the world, and instead embrace the idea that God’s Kingdom is about nothing less than our common union through Christ.
“Although nations may serve God‘s purposes in history, the church which identifies the sovereignty of any one nation or any one way of life with the cause of God denies the Lordship of Christ and betrays its calling” (The Confession of 1967)
I realize that may sound critical to those who have been raised with the idea of manifest destiny and the expectation that even though we are imperfect, we have the best thing going in the good old US of A. Personally, I’m glad to live here and be apart of the experiment in democracy that has become our nation, but that does not mean that we are above reproach. All who say they are without sin deceive themselves, amen?
Even so, I believe that the point of the Confession is not to say that we are horrible people or that the USA is godless and barren. Instead, the point is the same as our opening hymn, “This is My Song,” which is to say that sometimes we forget that there are other people in the world under the same blue skies whose hearts beat and faith compels them to follow in the way of Jesus. Sometimes we forget that there are asylum seekers who are baptized Christians just like us. Sometimes we forget that there are Palestinian Christians whose congregations have been meeting since before the Gospels were written. Sometimes we forget that every nation has its own sovereignty as a nation (or national interests) as its primary objective.
The good news in all of this is that God has acted and continues to act in ways that transcend and permeate our national priorities. That’s what we celebrate around this table. We come to this table at God’s invitation to be reminded that life is not like a cooking show where contestants redeem themselves by cooking a perfect flan after having left out the secret ingredient in the last round of the competition!
No, we do not and cannot redeem ourselves, nor do we come to this table because we have earned the right to be here. That’s why Paul chastised the church in Corinth for treating the Lord’s supper like an all-you-can-eat buffet. Not only that, but those who were without means to provide for themselves were treated the same in the church as they were outside the church – yet God’s grace is not about our ability to provide for ourselves; otherwise we would not need God, and we would not need each other. Otherwise, coming to the table would be about our good pleasure to come instead of God’s good pleasure to invite us.
I don’t really know when, but within a century or two after the death and resurrection of Christ the practice of a sacred common meal – which was literally designed to be sure everyone got their daily bread – became more of a ritual connected to salvation. From the start, it was connected to the Passover meal, as we know from Mark’s Gospel, and so the bread has always been understood to be the broken body of Christ that comes to us in our brokenness. Likewise, the cup has always been the new covenant of forgiveness sealed in the blood of Christ.
There are, of course, those who believe that the elements become the actual body and blood of Jesus, and while Reformers have for years argued that the fullness of God cannot be contained in a wafer or a cup, it’s important to acknowledge why there are those who believe that. They believe that in communion they are not simply consuming Christ but rather taking in the very presence of God so that they may be transformed by God to become more in line with God’s will and purpose.
On that last point, we receive the presence of God to become more in line with God’s purpose, I would not disagree. The only real difference is that we believe, in the Reformed tradition, that the bread and the juice cannot contain the fullness of God, and neither can we. At the same time, these elements are common things used for a sacred purpose, and so are we.
For when we come together around this table, we believe God to be present in our lives in a special way. God is the host. God is the banquet. God is the assurance that we have been redeemed from whatever has been done to us and whatever we have done that is not in keeping with the will of God!
Now, with all that in mind, I want to draw your attention to what Paul had to say to the church in 1 Corinthians 11:27, “Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord.” As Richard pointed out earlier, the big issue for the church was division – not just disagreement, but really more like a pecking order.
This is one of those places that it is easy to judge those silly Corinthians, and it’s also a verse that has been used ever since then to judge others and deny them from the table of Christ. I know that sounds terrible, but the reason for doing so is that the text says that those who partake unworthily are “answerable for the body and blood of the Lord.” When my Roman Catholic brothers keep me from Christ’s table it’s because they don’t want me to be condemned by it. I don’t agree with their concerns, but I love them for it!
We could debate that until Jesus returns, and some will, but what matters here is that we recognize what makes our taking of the Lord’s Supper good and right according to scripture. According to the word of Paul, we have to root out the division in our midst. “What division?”, you say.
After all, don’t we have a statement of inclusion on our website that says, "We are committed to openness and representation in our leadership and full participation throughout our denomination. Come. Worship. Be loved. Regardless of color or sexual orientation, all are welcome here."?
Yes. We do, and I believe that within these four walls we are an example of the beloved community of God. There is, however, much division outside of these walls, and so long as we remain a relatively homogenous community of Jesus followers; and so long as we remain tight-lipped about the issues of the day that do not impact our lives but cause others to suffer; so long as we come to the table to feel better about who we are rather than to be transformed by God’s grace into the people God would have us become, then we might want to think about what we are doing during the sacrament of communion. Here’s the good news in all of this. Mark 14:20 reminds us that even Judas was welcome to the table of Christ. I suppose that means that I am, too. In fact, a little over 11 years ago I remember worshiping at New Providence Presbyterian Church in Maryville, TN. The church I had served in Savannah had eliminated my position as the Associate Pastor, and I had been through three rounds of interviews with congregations across the southeast. Each chose me as one of their final candidates, and each rejected me.
It was a communion Sunday, and I remember a distinct feeling of unworthiness when the invitation to the table was given. It was a level of anxiety that can hardly describe. As the liturgy continued something in me calmed, and the thought occurred to me that it was never about my worthiness. It was only ever about God’s willingness to suffer with me, to demonstrate love for me, and to move me toward a more common union with God and others.
About that time I got a call from a friend, Clint Mitchell, who was moderating the Session of this quirky little congregation in South Louisiana. The rest, as they say, is history. Part of that history, though, was some supply preaching along the way. One of those congregations was an African American congregation in Savannah, GA, and they sang the hymn we are about to sing with a fervor I’ve never heard before or since.
This hymn, Lift Every Voice, started as a poem by Booker T Washington delivered on Lincoln’s birthday in 1900, and some refer to it today as the “Black National Anthem.” One thing I want you to think about as you sing this hymn since we are a mostly white congregation, is what these words say about the collective experience of people of color in our nation, especially those who are black and who are our siblings in Christ. Beyond that, I want to suggest to you that this hymn would make for a great conversation starter with someone who is a believer and who is African American if you can ever see yourself having such conversations. It might be as simple as saying, “Hey, we sang this hymn in church on Sunday, and I want to know what you think about it.” Then just listen and let them know that you’ve heard and understood what they have to say.
The thing is, we all have these fireworks in our hands right now. They can be used for good or for ill or not at all. You get to choose that, but you must know, as followers of Jesus, that our choices are all in response to the one choice of God to demonstrate love and mercy in a way that calls for justice and reconciliation for all of us – for all y’all. It starts at the table of Christ and it calls us back to the table of Christ – not just for our good pleasure in receiving, but for God’s good pleasure to invite us, to redeem us, and to offer grace and mercy through us as the Body of Christ, broken for the world – all to God’s glory. Now and always, amen.
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