A Sermon preached by the Rev. Michael Anderson Bullock
[1 Kings 19:4-8; Ephesians 4:25- 5:2; John 6:35, 41-51]
The Paris Olympics are nearing their completion. In fact, today is the last day. As usual the combination of high-level athletic competition on an international stage has provided some very compelling viewing. That Florence neighbor, Gabby Thomas, ran her way to a gold medal only proves the point. Yet, the “Games” began on a controversial note – specifically in some Christian circles. In particular, presented along the banks of the River Seine, one program in the “Opening Ceremonies” consisted of a live tableau of people, gathered around a rectangular feasting table, trans people dressed in exaggerated drag. At the center of the scene sat a large, bulbous, blue figure, wearing a striking headdress. With the other tableau characters placed on either side of this main figure, those familiar with Leonardo da Vinci’s painting, “The Last Supper”, saw in this hyperbolic expression a mocking of the “Maundy Thursday” representation of the “Lord’s Supper”.
Swiftly, the sense of offense erupted on the internet. I noticed it as outraged bishops and priests and members of the laity vehemently protested what they regarded as a grave and bigoted insult. Closer to home and as a local marker of the level of offense, a friend posted his outrage by proclaiming that, in spite of his love of the “Games”, he would not watch the Olympics, protesting the perceived slur.
As with so much of what passes for our modern mode of communication, the heat of the internet exchanges fed on itself, to the near exclusion of any discerning insight. Personally I was a bit confused by it all. On the one hand, if this tableau was, in fact, a malicious slap at the heart of the Christian experience, then I began to recognize in myself some gurgling protest rising within. Yet, any resentment that I might have self-righteously enjoyed was quickly dampened by my overriding sense that the tableau (and much of the entire Opening Ceremony presentation) was so incredibly tacky and so boring. I couldn’t help but wonder with amazement: Is this really the best the French could do to convey their distinct culture and life? If so, for help, send in the “Big Macs” for real culture!
With a bit of sleep and with the assistance of some sane and faithful judgment from others, I refocused to realize that if the tableau was meant to mock the Communion reality and life of the Church (by the way, the Director of the Opening Ceremonies denied that this was his intention, but nonetheless, the next day publicly apologized for what he called was the misunderstanding that spawned such offense) – nonetheless, if the tableau were a shot at the core Christian experience, then what did that indicate about the church’s place in the world? Moreover, why were ostensibly faithful followers of Jesus so deeply offended?
One Christian leader’s response was to post a two-page commentary that carried the telling title: “Come On Into the 21st Century”. His helpful remarks made two salient points.
The first was that by now he thought that everyone in the church realized that we were living in a thoroughly Post-modern, Post-Christian context. Like many of us, this author has spent the last fifteen years “shouting from the rooftops” (his words) that North America has moved out of the Modern Era (including the Age of Christianity) into a “Post-nearly-everything culture”. Yet, the reaction of some to the Olympics’ “Opening Ceremonies” would suggest that many still believe the world around us should think as we do because (in this nostalgic perspective) Christianity still stands at the center of American culture and influence. Make the Church Great Again! He summarized the issue this way: “…that kind of [cultural] prominence is hard to lay aside. Making the shift to a faith and a church that doesn’t enjoy the secondary gains of cultural affirmation is difficult …May God grant us all compassion for one another as we let go of a reality many preferred, moving [instead] to the next expression of God’s Church.”
Isn’t this what we here at St. Philip’s experience as we strive and at times struggle to be “church” in this new and challenging cultural time? Yet, as hard as our life can be, we do not seek to survive. With God’s help, we seek to foster new life.
The second insight and concern this commentator made had to do with the underlying and unrecognized issue of “discipleship”. He explained: “The extreme reactivity of many Christians, allowing a secular society to rattle and shake us, [to the point of] growing irate … all this suggests we aren’t as confident in our faith as we might hope. People react in ways just described when they feel threatened. [Yet,] [h]ow can our culture threaten us?...When we are secure in Christ, no one can separate us from the love of God …”
I for one am grateful to be reminded of this specific and faithful truth.
Along these same lines, another commentary raised this most poignant question: “…when we see these displays and our faith is made a mockery, we should ask ourselves, “What should our response be?” This commentator continued: “We can shake an angry fist at the Olympics, French culture, or secularism writ large. We can make this an indictment against humanists or leftists. We can call upon our inclinations toward cancel culture. We can even blame trans people by dehumanizing them and making them a pariah. Or we can ask how we might show an antagonistic culture the beauty of our faith more fully?”
In our prolonged attachment to the 1950’s bubble, we too easily forget the experience of the early church, which in the face of social and cultural hostility and physical persecution, responded by sharing acts of service and love. In this context of mockery, where our spiritual forebears were called “atheists” because they would not worship Caesar, the early church’s response was with humility, grace, and kind service. The point being made is this: If we copied our spiritual ancestors’ example, the world might just wonder and ask: “Who are these followers of Jesus who love us even when we mock their messiah?” “What do they know that we do not know?” This is the invitation to discipleship, where as students of Jesus we also teach others what we are learning and living. But you can’t give away what you don’t have.
With this sense of mockery and offense in mind (if not still bitterly on some of our tongues), we ironically find ourselves much in the same boat as those Israelites in today’s gospel who felt mocked and offended by Jesus and his statement: “I am the bread of life” and his teaching that this bread is his own “flesh”. Given Jesus’ shocking statement, one blunt question emerges among us: What is your experience and what is your understanding of the reality of Holy Communion? What are we doing in this central act of worship? What’s going on?
I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me with never thirst.
What about this? I have a few comments to offer in this regard that I hope will foster your own reflections on these questions. Perhaps as a community we might even gather together to assist one another in gaining more clarity and confidence in our own experience and understanding of Holy Communion. So, here are my few comments.
First, let me say again that the will of God is Communion. The Holy One desires for all to be in “union with” the Creator of heaven and earth and, therefore, with one another. That is God’s will.
Second, the fact that the Sacrament of the Altar has a number of referential titles (Holy Communion; the Eucharist; the Mass; the Lord’s Supper) indicates that its reality cannot be contained by any label or expressed understanding. This is so because Communion (as the will of God) creates a relationship of life and love. It is God’s desire and intent that in Christ we receive God’s own life and (as we heard in last week’s Epistle lesson) grow into “the full stature of Christ”. This is, therefore, to say that any attempt to limit the reality of Communion to the altar rail or to a rarified title (for instance) completely misses the point.
My third comment may step on some toes; but I risk doing so because on the subject of our experience and understanding of the Eucharist, we too often get stuck looking through the wrong end of the sacramental telescope, seeing what is meant to be clearer and closer in smaller and more distant ways.
So, generally speaking, discussion about the nature of Holy Communion bounces between two generic extremes. One extreme refers to the Sacrament in terms of “transubstantiation”: that is, the prayerfully offered bread and wine physically become Christ’s Body and Blood. This description, at least for me, does not call into question the reality of the Risen One’s specific presence in the ordinary, physical elements of bread and wine. But in most people’s minds so much of the discussion and propagation of the transubstantiation doctrine focuses on the “how” and “when” and “by whom” this transfiguration occurs. This is what happens when we look through the wrong end of the telescope. We find ourselves in the weeds to the exclusion of seeing ourselves as guests at God’s Table.
In radical reaction to this attempt to explain how Christ is present in the ordinary and in the physical, there is the stance that regards the “Lord’s Supper” as a remembrance of what occurred on that first Maundy Thursday. It is a recollection of the events that includes our Lord’s passion, death, and resurrection. And yes, remembering the Paschal Mystery is a good and necessary thing, but to what extent is this remembering different or more profound than remembering fondly and warmly last Christmas’s vacation with family and friends? Is Holy Communion simply a matter of an uplifting metaphor or a lofty recollection? No.
In the case of both extreme positions, what is lacking and in many cases what is avoided is the life-changing intimacy of Communion, which of course is the intimacy of life with God. To what extent is our experience of the Sacrament of the Altar shaped and defined (and often limited) by our sense of intimacy with God and the God-life? The truth is that in Communion a taste of God’s intimacy to us and to all of creation is (on this side of heaven) more than we can take. This, I think, is the real reason the Celebrant pours some water in the wine before its consecration. We humbly and faithfully cannot take God’s life-blood full strength. But by God’s grace, there will come such a time when we will. It is a matter of God’s will for us to do so.
My last comment could be construed as provincial crowing, and I am cognizant of that temptation. Yet, the Anglican tradition’s position on the Eucharist and its nature has been described in terms of “Real Presence”; and our Prayer Book makes the point clearly and succinctly. You and I encounter what “Real Presence” entails every time we gather at the sacred table; and the understanding we are given to believe emerges in the prayer of consecration. Over the bread and wine the Celebrant prays: “Sanctify them (that is, make them holy) by your Holy Spirit to be for your people the Body and Blood of your Son, the holy food and drink of new and unending life in him.”
The telling and key point in this prayer of consecration is that the “Real Presence” of Christ is acknowledged and proclaimed, but how this happens is left to the mystery and wonder of God. The language of the consecration prayer says that by the Holy Spirit the bread and wine may be for God’s people the Body and Blood of Jesus. And, therefore, as a result of such a gift, those of us who are given the Sacrament may “faithfully receive” it as the “Real Presence” of God’s Christ. Proclamation. Reminder. Invitation. Not explanation.
If, as the saying goes, “we are what we eat”, what are the implications of participating in Holy Communion? Could the entire point of what Jesus offers and teaches about his presence among us and in us be a matter of our lives being transformed into being his living sacraments: that in our discipleship (that is, in our experience of being Jesus’ “student teachers”) Christ’s presence may be reflected in our own lives and given to the world for its life and salvation?
At this point, the sacramental telescope is used as it is meant to be used: looking through the small end to see God’s big picture.
I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
1. Mark Tidsworth, Pinnacle Founder and Team Leader: author’s facebook page
2. Jason Wellman. Facebook posting
3. John 6:35
4. Ephesians 4:13
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