“And the angel said to me, "Write this:
Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the
Lamb." Revelation 19:9
In the home where I grew up back in Maryland
The theory is that if you want to
stay warm on a bitter November day, you need something good in your belly. Of course, the theory doesn’t give so much
help with the other big challenge of deer hunting, which is staying awake on a
bitter November day, and all those cups of coffee tend to create their own
problems.
But really the point of the breakfast is for
all of us to be together. There are a
few scouting tips shared, and some teasing, often a few old stories as
well. We are a fairly sentimental lot,
the men in my family, and if someone has died and isn’t with us that year,
there will be a little speech, maybe a few tears even. Everybody who will go out on the ridge that
morning usually comes by, and sometimes a few of the old timers as well, who
will probably just spend the rest of the day sitting in the truck. Hunting has always been important in my
family, more than just a matter of guns and meat and camouflage. It ties us to the land that has been ours for
several generations. It’s something that
brings us all together. I think that
maybe you have to be from a hunting family to understand just how it
works.
But that breakfast is an important
part of it all. In some ways, it’s the
most important part. It marks us out as people who belong to each
other and to this common pursuit. We
don’t hunt the same way. We’re not all good shots, some of us are more alert
than others, our stands are scattered at better and worse places on the
mountainside. As outdoor pursuits go,
deer hunting is a pretty solitary business.
But we are together in it, and that’s what the meal is for.
When I think about the place of the
Eucharist in the Christian life, for me, it always begins with those big family
meals. The Eucharist is much more than that, but I think that starting with the
table’s fellowship and stories and joy certainly sets you off in the right
direction. Jesus was a man who knew how to
keep company. It’s true that there were
times of silence and fellowship with God in his life, but generally, he seems
to have been the life of the party. “A
glutton and a winebibber,” the Pharisees branded him, a man who knew and loved
the life of the table.
He dined most days at a table for
thirteen, at least, but there were others lingering about his presence. The Gospels frequently recount times when he
pulled the disciples apart for some special teaching, to explain one of his
elusive parables. Surely, those must
have been gatherings around the table.
In the Book of Revelation he is almost never alone, always in the
company of angels and saints, the body gathered around the head. They are there in this morning’s Epistle
Lesson, a great multitude, singing praise, and sharing together in a meal, the
great marriage supper that knows no end.
And so, it would have been no
surprise to anyone that knew Him well that as Jesus prepared to go to the Cross,
to complete the Father’s will and to enter into His glory, He created a
meal. “Do this,” he told his
disciples. Wherever you go, break the
bread, and drink from the cup. Use these
words. Call Me into your midst. And I will be with you. The love that we have shared around the
table, the joy in each other’s presence, and the strength and passion that
comes of knowing God and doing His will, all that will be there as well.
Of course, this is a different kind
of meal than those He shared with His followers. Because He has died for us, and because He
rose again in glory, this meal has become the means of imparting the deep
spiritual realities that those joyful Palestinian feasts were only hinting
at. Then Jesus was the host, but now He
is host and fare. He was the life of
party, but in this meal he becomes the life of the soul as well, the source of
grace, joy and peace. As He says in our
Gospel lesson, “He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in
him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who
eats me will live because of me[1].” True life, abundant life, comes through this
meal.
“Unless you eat the flesh of the Son
of man and drink his blood,” Jesus told his disciples, “you have no life in you[2].” The feast we celebrate today, the Day of
Thanksgiving for Christ’s Body and Blood, it goes back to the thirteenth
century. And those who designed it made
a very wise choice, I think, when they put it here in the Church Calendar, just
after the Day of Pentecost and the Feast of the Blessed Trinity. After today, we are plunged into what the
calendar calls “ordinary time.” The great festivals of the Church year end, and
we begin a long spell of listening, week by week to Jesus’ teaching and
thinking about how we can grow in our faithfulness to Him.
To live for Him, Pentecost reminds
us, we must welcome the work of His Spirit, use the gifts He has placed within
us. To really grow, Trinity Sunday
reminds us, we must know the truth about God and confess it boldly. But the Spirit and true doctrine are not
enough to live for Christ. We must also
feed on His Flesh and Blood, we must participate in the sacramental life with
all his beloved sons and daughters. That’s
why this feast, on this day, is so important.
It’s easy for us to think that we can receive the Spirit all on our own,
and correct doctrine, too is often a solitary matter: pondering and studying
our way to the truth. But there is no
such thing as a lonesome sacrament.
Jesus knew that to live for Him, we need to be together, to gather
around the table with each other. The
Christian life is a deeply communal reality: that’s how Christ designed
it.
Today, I am with you because our son will make
his first communion. He has learned the
good news about Jesus who came to share God’s love and to die for our
sins. He knows now that the Holy
Communion is a very special meal, and that he needs to prepare himself to
receive it with faith and thankfulness.
And he is very excited to share in this feast that is spread every
Sunday here at Zion Saint John’s. His
mother and I pray that he will receive it faithfully, week by week for the rest
of his life.
In a few years, I expect a crisp
November morning will come when our son takes his place around the table in my
mother’s kitchen for breakfast on the first Sunday of deer season. He’ll need to learn to sit still first, and
to be a great deal more careful with dangerous machines. But in time, he will learn, and I will be
proud to have him beside me that day. That
day, and the meal that celebrates it will mark him out as a member of his
family, the Michaels, in a special way.
But to me, this meal is the one that
really matters, and this family, it’s the only one that lasts forever. Today our son takes his place, in a deeper
way, within the company of all God’s faithful people: the saints who gather
here on earth around the Altar, and in heaven around the victorious Lamb. Today, he will share in Christ’s life even
more deeply than he has in hearing the Word and saying his prayers. Today, like all of us, he will be filled with
grace, united with Christ, and bound together in this blessed life we share
around the table.
No comments:
Post a Comment