RCL Proper 21B
23 August 2015
Saint Faith’s
Anglican Church
Vancouver BC
Click here to listen to the Sermon as preached at the 10.00 a.m. Eucharist on Sunday the 23rd.
Click here to listen to the Sermon as preached at the 10.00 a.m. Eucharist on Sunday the 23rd.
One of
the obligations of earning a Ph.D. and then taking an academic appointment is
that of helping other emerging scholars earn their post-baccalaureate
credentials. During the years I served
on the faculty of Vancouver School of Theology I had the privilege of working
directly with six students and serving on the examination committees of three
others.
Two of
the theses I directed are permanently fixed in my mind. The first was a master’s thesis on indigenous
forms of music used by aboriginal Taiwanese Presbyterians. The second was also a master’s thesis on why
Anglo-Catholic spirituality was accepted more readily by Melanesian Christians
than Evangelical spirituality. Both
theses explored their topics from perspectives that were truly unique.
It turns
out that some indigenous Taiwanese Christian music was based on melodies and
patterns used during head-hunting rituals in the pre-Christian times. This tradition had deep roots in the culture
and were more meaningful than the European tradition brought by the
missionaries. Melanesian Christians came
from a culture in which ritual cannibalism was practiced and they found the
image of eating and drinking the body and blood of Christ quite meaningful.
What has
this to do with today’s Gospel? More
than one might immediately think. Over
the past five weeks our gospel readings have all been taken from the sixth
chapter of the Gospel according to John.
This is one of the more difficult chapters in all of the New
Testament. In it Jesus makes constant
reference to offering his body and blood to his believers who, when they eat
and drink, will come to share in eternal life.
His words are so offensive to his listeners that both his opponents and
some of his earliest followers find new reasons to question Jesus’ sanity and
faithfulness to the God of Israel.
We’re
all familiar with the saying, ‘We are what we eat.’ Melanesians ate their enemies as an act of
honouring their courage and hoped that by eating some of their flesh they would
share in that courage. Aboriginal
Taiwanese hoped that by taking the head of an enemy they would also share in
that enemy’s character and strength. So
when Jesus, in the sixth chapter of John, links the eating of the bread and the
drinking of the wine with his body and blood, he asks his listeners and us this
question: ‘Do you want to share in the
mission and ministry God has entrusted to me?’
For Jesus sharing in this mission and ministry is not an abstract
commitment; it is committing all of one’s heart, soul, mind and strength. It is to become one with Jesus and to
participate in the fullness of life Jesus shares with God.
I think
that there are no more important words in all of the New Testament than Peter’s
answer to Jesus’ question at the end of today’s gospel: “So Jesus asked the twelve, ‘Do you also wish
to go away?’ Simon Peter answered him, ‘Lord,
to whom can we go? You have the words of
eternal life. We have come to believe
and know that you are the Holy One of God.’” (John 6.67-69) And so, today, I want to offer you some
reflections on why, after sixty-two years of being a baptized Christian, I
still choose to identify myself with Christ, to eat the bread and to drink the
wine to share in the body and blood of Christ and to acknowledge that I have no
where else to go for only here to I find the words of eternal life.
First,
it is within this community of faith that I have learned that all that is, seen
and unseen, is not an accident but the result of a choice made by a personal
God. While I respect the insights of
modern science into how the universe came to be and how life emerged on this
earth, these insights cannot answer the most important human question, “Why
does anything exist?” Pure materialism
has no answer to this question and finds its spirituality in the exploration of
the ‘how’ of the universe. But I am not
satisfied with only the ‘how’; it is the ‘why’ that intrigues me as well.
Second,
it is within this community of faith that I have learned there is a pattern to
all that is, seen and unseen, that is counter-intuitive. This pattern is one of sacrificial
self-giving: When we are willing to give
all that we have, we actually receive more than we can ask or imagine. We give all we can to our children and to our
community and, in doing so, we reap a harvest of new life as well as form
communities that care for young and old, rich and poor, women and men, wise and
foolish, weak and strong. One of the
tragedies of human misuse of creation is that we are destroying many
communities that sustain not only the life of other creatures but our own as
well. Selfishness is ultimately
self-destructive.
Most
importantly, it is within this community of faith that I have learned that the
pattern to all that is, seen and unseen, can be found in the life, death and
resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, a real human being who lived in a real place
during a real time. To hear the story of
Jesus told in the midst of his disciples is to come into the presence of the
living God, the One who gave life to this universe and who continues that
self-giving eternally to all who choose to follow that same path of
self-giving. To share in the bread and
wine of the eucharist is a concrete sign of one’s commitment to following this
way. Each time I share in the eucharist
I offer myself, all that I am and all that I have, to this great work begun by
God at the very beginning of creation.
It is
within this community that I have learned that all things, seen and unseen, are
guided by a wisdom that shuns conquest, coercion and fear. The wisdom that guides the universe rewards
cooperation, chooses persuasion and engenders hope. One of the tragedies of our times is the
growth in religious movements fuelled by conquest, coercion and fear; no
religious tradition in the world is immune from this deadly virus. A consequence of this tragedy is that
reasonable people, compassionate people, hopeful people often turn away from
religious faith because the voices of our demons seem louder than those of our
better angels.
But
here, my friends, in this small community we hear the words of eternal life and
share in the feast that unites us with the Holy One who brought forth all
things, seen and unseen, in love. Where
else should we go? Where else shall we
learn about the pattern and wisdom that shapes the universe? Where else shall we find communities who are
committed to a path of sacrificial self-giving for the true life of the world?
And so
we stay. Not because of inertia or
custom or habit. Here we gather around
word and table for strength and for renewal so that we may be one body, one
spirit in Christ, in order to serve the universe God has made. Not a bad choice to make, I think.
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