Pentecost 13, 2024
Proverbs 9:1-6
Psalm 34:9-14
Ephesians 5:15-20
John 6:51-58
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Finally we get a gospel text about bread! I’m kidding of course. But we are almost at the end of our five-week run of bread readings. You may think I’ve run out of things to say about bread, but fear not. Preachers never run out of things to say. Especially when it comes to the bread of heaven. But let’s start here . . .
In case I haven’t told you a million times by now, I grew up in the Lutheran Church. In fact, I grew up in the Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod. For those of you attuned to the flavors of Lutheranism, you’ll now understand why I’m so conservative and reserved.
Like many denominations, most Lutherans require that a person be confirmed before coming to the communion table. In fact, in the Missouri Synod, the person must also be a member of that specific church body, a practice called “closed communion.” You and I could not take communion in a Missouri Synod parish.
The requirement for confirmation in some churches is intended as a way to ensure that young people fully understand exactly what is happening in communion. (Just like the rest of us, am I right?) And the requirement of church membership is to ensure that every single person believes exactly the same thing when they approach the altar. These are admittedly lofty goals, to be sure.
By contrast, in the Episcopal Church we are bound together by worship, as opposed to belief (broadly speaking), so our only requirement is that someone taking communion is baptized. Certainly makes things easier for the priest, I have to say.
But I want to come back to that idea of shared belief for a minute. The starting point for putting barriers to communion in some denominations is that it really is for your own benefit. As Paul writes to the Corinthians, “Those who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves.” In the best construction, closed communion is an effort to save you from damnation. Only when the pastor is convinced that you fully discern and understand can they know that you are not eating and drinking in judgement against yourself. Point being, the starting point for them does make sense on some level.
Now, different denominations have different understandings of what is actually happening at the altar. Some say it’s just a memorial reenactment to remind us of what Jesus endured; and at the other end, some say the bread and wine actually become the body and blood of Jesus. True to form, in the Episcopal Church, we allow for the full spectrum of belief. We do not tell you what it is you’re receiving. And, thanks to the Elizabethan Compromise, the rubrics allow the priest to pick and choose things as we go, to emphasize certain understandings. Our liturgical flow comes with an implied message: Be ye warned! Rubrics are theology!
Since I personally lean toward the “real presence” understanding of the sacrament—that is, Jesus is truly present in the bread and wine—I intentionally choose a certain set of options throughout the service. A specific example of this is that I always stop after saying, “The gifts of God for the people of God,” since the optional add-on sentence of “feed on him in your hearts by faith” is added for those who don’t believe Jesus’ body and blood are truly present in the sacrament.
Wow. You’d never guess that my main point is to steer us away from doctrine, would you? I promise, we’ll get there.
Okay, so different expressions within the Church have different understandings of what is happening in the Lord’s Supper. And different denominations have different barriers to the table. The Episcopal Church still officially holds the minimum requirement of baptism in order to partake. And so that is where we stand, here at St. Timothy’s. All baptized Christians are welcome to this meal. Always. You don’t have to be confirmed, and you don’t have to confirm our theology. All baptized Christians are always welcome. And with all that wandering around out of the way, let’s finally go back and look at the text we have before us . . .
Jesus says, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day.” Rather than talk about what he does say here, let’s look at what he does not say. There is nothing in this text about prerequisites. Nothing about requirements. Nothing about barriers. No mention of belief, or membership, or understanding. It’s just a flat-out claim that the people who eat and drink will have eternal life.
You want more? Jesus says, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” When you eat stuff—as I mentioned in last week’s biology lesson—it isn’t just fuel for your body. The food you eat replaces your cells over time. You really do become what you eat. “For my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.”
If we take Jesus at his word, he seems to be saying quite clearly that eating his body and drinking his blood gives us eternal life. And that doing so means he abides in us . . . lives within us. Now let’s circle back and look at that first quote I used from today’s Gospel.
“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day.” Nothing suggesting a right understanding, a sound doctrine, or even any belief at all. Based on this text, you don’t need to understand, or believe, or make some special effort at being worthy, or have a contrite heart, or anything. Sure, our Outline of the Faith says, “we should examine our lives, repent of our sins, and be in love and charity with all people,” and the Episcopal Church does hold out the requirement of baptism as a pre-condition. And there are very good reasons for that, given our understanding that baptism is the entry point into the Church.
But notice that it is not the belief or understanding or doctrine or anything else that seals the deal. It is not our words, but rather it is the words of Jesus. It’s a simple factual statement from him: “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day.” No conditions. No exceptions.
Of course, we are always free to say no. We are always allowed to stop ourselves from accepting a gift. Always permitted to say, “That food is not for me.” You don’t have to stretch out your hands and receive the body and blood of Jesus. You are always given all the time you need. There is no pressure, no deadline, and the invitation is always there.
The church of my childhood would keep you and me from this altar. As would many other churches all around the world. We would be closed off from the Sacrament because we are not members, or because we don’t share some common belief in a set of principles. But Jesus gives no such restrictions. Do you want life? Do you want Jesus to abide in you? Do you want to be raised up on the last day?
If the answer is, “YES,” then I invite you to come forward this morning, and I ask you to believe the words of Jesus. “The one who eats this bread will live forever." Come to the altar today. Come and receive the free gift of life: the bread of heaven, and the cup of salvation.
Amen.
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