PROPER 16, YEAR B

Sunday 25 August 2024

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

Joshua 24:1-2a, 14-18

John 6:56-69

 

Today’s readings highlight the importance of telling the story of what God has done in our life together—and then responding appropriately!

 

The episode in today’s Old Testament reading takes place near the end of the life of Joshua. Having led the Children of Israel across the River Jordan to take possession of the Promised Land, Joshua summons all Israel to Shechem—a town in the north of Israel which functioned in the early days as the central gathering place of the Twelve Tribes.

 

Here, Joshua challenges the people to put away the gods that their ancestors served in Mesopotamia and Egypt, to serve only the Lord. The people respond by reciting the great deeds that God has done for them: “It is the Lord our God who brought us and our ancestors up from the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, and who did those great signs in our sight. He protected us along all the way that we went, and among all the peoples through whom we passed…”

 

Some Old Testament scholars have speculated that what’s being described here is a periodically repeated liturgical ceremony renewing God’s Covenant with the people on Mount Sinai. And the key point is that the best means of recalling people to faithfulness is to tell the story, over and over, of the great deeds that God has done for them. In a similar way, the Church’s first task is again and again to proclaim the good news of what God has done for us in Christ.

 

In today’s Gospel, Jesus proclaims the good news of what God is doing in and through him. During the month of August, the Gospel readings have been taken from the sixth chapter of Saint John, where Jesus announces that he is the true bread which came down from heaven, not such as the fathers ate and died, for those who eat his flesh and drink his blood will live forever.

 

The inconvenient reality, however, is that those who hear the good news are free to respond (or not) as they will. Joshua is clearly aware of this problem as he addresses the Tribes of Israel. While he passionately exhorts them to serve the Lord, he also respects their freedom not to do so. There’s nothing authoritarian in his speech: no commands, no bullying, no threats. Instead of “You’d better serve the Lord or else,” he says simply: “Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve … but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

 

Similarly, in today’s Gospel, when many of the disciples fall away in disgust at his words about eating his flesh and drinking his blood, Jesus also respects their freedom. He simply asks the Twelve: “Do you also wish to go away?” No commands, no threats, nothing coercive or authoritarian: just a gentle challenge to make the choice.

 

Both Joshua and Jesus know how difficult it may be to respond affirmatively to what they’re asking. Joshua understands the powerful appeal of the ancestral gods and goddesses. He won’t be at all surprised if the people backslide and forsake the one true God—especially now that they’re living alongside peoples who still worship those same old pagan deities. The subsequent history recounted in the Old Testament proves Joshua right. Again and again, large segments of the people fall away, with only a faithful remnant keeping the Covenant and continuing in the service of Israel’s God, right down to the present day.

 

Again, Jesus is unsurprised when large numbers of disciples draw back and fall away, murmuring amongst themselves: “This is a hard saying; Who can listen to it?” Knowing what’s in their hearts, he simply remarks: “It is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is of no avail … This is why I told you that no-one can come to me unless it is granted him by the Father.”

 

Both these scriptural episodes are particularly instructive for us, in a time and place where so many people seem to be turning their backs on the Church and its faith and worship. This trend may sadden us, but it shouldn’t surprise us. It’s nothing that we haven’t dealt with before at multiple times in Church history. The good news, now as then, is that we’re here—a faithful remnant choosing to follow the Lord even when it means swimming against the cultural tide.

 

So, we stand today with those who answered Joshua, “Far be it from us that we should forsake the Lord to serve other gods … Therefore we also will serve the Lord, for he is our God.” We likewise stand with Peter, who answers the Lord’s question by saying: “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.”

 

Commenting on this passage sometime in the early fifth century, Saint Cyril of Alexandria wrote: “It is not the number of worshipers but those who excel in the right faith, though they are few, that are precious in the sight of God.” In other words, Jesus is content to continue working with only twelve disciples after the multitudes fall away because he knows that these twelve (minus Judas) are the ones who have the potential ultimately to be sent out to bear witness to his resurrection to the ends of the earth.

 

A few years ago, Pope Benedict XVI offered some thought-provoking reflections on the Church’s decline in Western Europe and North America. A smaller and leaner Church, he said, is not necessarily a weaker Church. As it loses social privilege and cultural approval, it must simplify its life and concentrate on what’s truly important. Those who persevere in attending worship and participating in the Church’s life will be those with the strongest faith, or at least the deepest knowledge of their need for God. The Church’s losses in the quantity of numbers may be outweighed by gains in the quality of discipleship as it responds to God’s call to engage in mission to a broken and hurting world.

 

In this time of parish transition, it pays to reflect on the challenges posed by both Joshua and Jesus in today’s readings: “Choose this day whom you will serve,” and “Do you also wish to go away?” By God’s grace, in the power of the Holy Spirit, we’re able to respond, along with the tribes of Israel, “We also will serve the Lord, for he is our God,” and again with Peter, “We have come to believe and know that [Jesus is] the Holy One of God.”

PROPER 15, YEAR B

Sunday 18 August 2024

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

Proverbs 9:1-6

John 6:51-58

 

The Gospel Readings for the past three Sundays have been taken from the Living Bread Discourse in the sixth chapter of Saint John’s Gospel. Jesus identifies the bread that he shall give for the life of the world as his flesh, and he proclaims that those who eat his flesh and drink his blood shall live forever.

 

In the seven verses of today’s Gospel, Our Lord uses the verb “eat” or “ate” nine times; the word “bread” five times; the word “flesh” six times; the words “drink” and “blood” four times each; and the words “life,” “live,” or “living” nine times. So we see the basic pattern: eat, drink, bread, flesh, blood, live!

 

In much of the ancient world, bread was so basic a staple of human life that Scripture often uses it to mean food itself: as in the Lord’s Prayer, when Jesus teaches us to pray “give us this day our daily bread.” Here the word “food” could be substituted for “bread” without unduly distorting the text’s meaning.

 

At the literal biological level, the connection between bread and life is clear. As food for our bodies, bread sustains our physical life. And Scripture is clear that such bread is a gift of God; even if human hands do the planting, harvesting, mixing, and baking, God sends the rain and makes the wheat and barley grow that yield the grain from which the bread is made.

 

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is speaking during the Jewish festival of Passover. So, when he speaks of bread from heaven, he’s alluding in the first instance to the manna in the wilderness: the mysterious flaky substance that appeared on the surface of the ground every morning, which the Hebrews gathered and used to bake bread, and so were saved from starvation after their deliverance from bondage in Egypt.

 

By New Testament times, the manna had also come to symbolize God’s gift of the Law, which the Israelites also received following the Exodus from Egypt. Just as God provided physical food for the Hebrews in the wilderness, so he had provided food for their hearts, minds, and wills in the teachings of Torah. Thus, in the Book of Deuteronomy, Moses explains to the Israelites: “God humbled you by letting you hunger, then by feeding you with manna … to make you understand that one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.”

 

For this reason, several Old Testament texts liken listening to God’s word to feasting on good food and wine. For example: Isaiah 55:2, “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourself in rich food.” And again, today’s reading from Proverbs, in which the Word of God personified as Lady Wisdom beckons: “Come, eat of my bread, and drink of the wine that I have mixed.”

 

By New Testament times, the images of eating bread and drinking wine had also become associated with hope for the future life of God’s kingdom. The Gospel of Luke records one of those who sat at table with Jesus saying, “Blessed is anyone who shall eat bread in the kingdom of God.” And at the Last Supper, Jesus utters the mysterious statement “I shall not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”

 

In the Living Bread discourse in John 6, Jesus draws together all these associations of bread and wine—and goes way beyond them. Just as God once fed the people of Israel in the desert with the gift of his Law, so now God is about to feed the whole world with the gift of his Son. Just as the Hebrews received physical life by eating manna in the wilderness, so now believers in Christ will receive eternal life by eating his flesh and drinking his blood.

 

In other words, God is doing something new. In the past, God gave his people life in this world by manna in the wilderness and the gift of his Law. But now, God offers all people eternal life by the incarnation, death, and resurrection of his Son.

 

The appointed place of encounter with the crucified and risen Lord is none other than here, at the Holy Eucharist. Here God feeds us in both biblical senses of the word. In the first part of the liturgy, God feeds us with his Word in the Holy Scriptures. Then, in the second part of the liturgy, the Holy Communion, the Lord gives us himself under the forms of bread and wine, which become his Body and Blood, to be our spiritual food and drink.

 

Where earthly bread and wine nourish our bodies with the sustenance of physical life, the living bread and wine of the Eucharist nourish our bodies and souls to eternal life. Just as Christ shares in his Father’s divine life by nature, so we share in Christ’s divine life by adoption as members of his Body, the Church, in Holy Baptism; and thereafter our vital union with Christ is sustained and strengthened by the heavenly food and drink of his Body and Blood.

 

Here, then, we receive a foretaste of the heavenly banquet that awaits us in Gods kingdom. We do well to reflect often on this great mystery, offered us every Sunday, in the Holy Eucharist. Here’s the real reason to come to church: not the music, not the fellowship, not the ministries of service, not even the preaching – good and worthwhile as all those things undoubtedly are. No, the real reason to come to church is that here Jesus gives us his own Body and Blood as food and drink for eternal life. If people really knew that truth and took it to heart, then our churches would be packed, every Sunday.

PROPER 14, YEAR B

Sunday 11 August 2024

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R.I.

 

I Kings 19:4-8

Psalm 34:1-8

Ephesians 4:25-5:2

John 6:35, 41-51

 

The image or theme running through today’s readings is encapsulated by the phrase food for the journey.

 

In the Old Testament reading from the First Book of the Kings, Elijah’s journey into the wilderness follows the pattern of the Israelites coming out of Egypt centuries before. The parallels are remarkable. Just as the Children of Israel fled to escape death at the hands of Pharaoh, so Elijah flees to escape death at the hands of the wicked Queen Jezebel. Just as the Israelites murmured against Moses and Aaron, saying that it would have been better to have died in Egypt than of starvation and thirst in this wilderness, so Elijah falls into despair and asks God to take his life. Then, just as God gave the Israelites water from the rock and rained down manna from heaven, so an angel of the Lord appears to Elijah by night and gives him a cake baked on hot stones to eat and a jar of water to drink.

 

And finally, perhaps the most direct parallel of all, just as the bread from heaven enabled the Israelites to continue their journey to Mount Sinai, so in the strength of that food Elijah travels forty days and forty nights to Horeb the Mount of God—traditionally identified as one and the same place as Mount Sinai. And there, just as the Israelites received God’s Law at Sinai, beginning their new life as the People of the Covenant, so at Horeb Elijah will hear the still small voice, making clear that his mission as a prophet has not ended but is only just beginning.

 

The good news in the juxtaposition of these two stories is that God never asks us to undertake any journey in his Name without providing us everything necessary to complete it. He gives us food for the journey. So, as we think about the various journeys on which we find ourselves, both individually and collectively, the challenge is to examine how far we really trust God’s providence to supply us with all we need to see us through.

 

The interim period between rectors in a parish is also a kind of a journey. God has asked us to undertake the journey of this transition process together, with all its steps, tasks, meetings, and other items to be checked off. Just as the Israelites grumbled in the wilderness, so perhaps we’ve all done a bit of grumbling of our own. Why does this process have to take so long? We’ve never had to do it this way before! In each of the three parishes where I’ve served as an Interim Priest, I’ve heard many such comments, and I sympathize.

 

Nonetheless, we’re being asked to trust God to lead us through what is for many of us unfamiliar terrain, provide us with what need on the way, and bring us safely to our destination. As Psalm 34 puts it: “The angel of the Lord encompasses those who fear him, and he will deliver them; taste and see that the Lord is good, happy are they that trust in him.”

 

Moreover, we have one another as traveling companions. We’re all in this together. In the reading from the Epistle to the Ephesians, Saint Paul gives us good advice on how to conduct ourselves on the way: “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

 

That reference to Christ offering himself as a sacrifice reminds us that for this journey, and for all our journeys, he has provided the most precious food and drink imaginable. The Fathers of the early Church understood the manna in the wilderness as an anticipatory sign or foretaste of the Holy Eucharist.

 

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the people, “Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. … Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

 

These words of our Lord are fulfilled here and now, and every Sunday and Holy Day, when we gather to break the Bread and offer the Cup in his Name. In the late fourth century, in a sermon to his congregation, Saint Ambrose of Milan said this: 

You ask me why God does not rain down manna as he did on our ancestors … If you reflect, you will realize that he does, even daily, rain down manna upon his servants … How much more excellent this is than what went before! Those who ate that manna, or bread, are dead, but he who eats this bread will live forever …

 

The consecrated bread and wine of the Holy Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Christ, are food and drink not only for the journeys that God asks us to undertake in this life, but also for the greatest journey that awaits us all. In the Church’s Last Rites, it’s no accident that the Communion of the dying is called Viaticum, which means “food for the journey.”

 

The manna in the wilderness strengthened the Israelites for their journey to Mount Sinai and then on to the Promised Land. The bread and water provided by the angel strengthened Elijah for his forty-day journey to Mount Horeb. But Horeb, Sinai, and the Promised Land can all be read as symbolic figures of heaven itself. And in the Holy Eucharist, Jesus gives us himself as food and drink for our journey through the wilderness of this world to our final goal and destination in the next.

 

 

PROPER 13, YEAR B

Sunday 4 August 2024

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15

Psalm 78:23-29

John 6:24-35

 

The dominant image in today’s readings is bread from heaven. In the reading from Exodus, the Israelites murmur against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness. Despite their liberation from bondage and the gift of freedom, they complain that it would have been better to have died in Egypt, where they sat by the fleshpots and ate bread to the full, than to have been brought out into the desert to die of hunger.

 

The real crisis is not one of hunger, however, but of faith. The people’s grumbling bespeaks a lack of trust that the Lord who delivered them will continue to provide for them.

 

In response, God rains down from heaven a fine, flake-like substance that distills on the ground from the early morning dew. The word “manna” means “What is it?”—to which Moses replies, “It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat.”

 

The miracle’s real purpose goes beyond satisfying the people’s hunger to building their faith in God’s power and loving care. As God explains to Moses, he’s providing this bread from heaven so that “you shall know that I am the Lord your God.”

 

Ever after, the children of Israel remembered the manna in the wilderness as a sign of God’s goodness and mercy. As Psalm 78 joyfully sings, “He rained down manna upon them to eat and gave them grain from heaven. So mortals ate the bread of angels; he provided for them food enough.”

 

The manna ceased after 40 years when the Tribes of Israel crossed the River Jordan into the Promised Land. Nonetheless, a belief grew up in later centuries that one of the signs of the coming of the Messiah, and the dawning of God’s kingdom on earth, would be a resumption of the manna, the bread from heaven. This belief just may lie in the background of today’s Gospel, where the crowd challenges Jesus: “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’”

 

What we then encounter in this reading is one of those wonderful dialogues of double meaning, so typical of John’s Gospel, where people focus on a word or image’s literal meaning, while our Lord plays on its spiritual meaning instead.

 

After the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand in the wilderness by the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, the people have followed Jesus back to Capernaum. Remarking that they seek him because they ate their fill of the loaves, and are perhaps hoping for more free meals, Jesus admonishes them: “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life …”

 

Commenting on this verse around the end of the fourth century, Saint Augustine of Hippo says this:

 

It is as if he said to them, “You seek me to satisfy the flesh, not the spirit.” How many seek Jesus for no other objective that to get some kind of temporal benefit! One has a business that has run into problems, and he seeks the intercession of the clergy; another is oppressed by someone more powerful than himself, and he flies to the church. Another desires intervention with someone over whom he has little influence. One person wants this, and another person wants that. The church is filled with these kinds of people! Jesus is scarcely sought after for his own sake … Here too he says, you seek me for something else; seek me for my own sake. He insinuates the truth that he himself is that food … “that endures to eternal life.”

 

Then, in response to the crowd’s request for a never-ending supply of this true bread that comes down from heaven, Jesus declares: “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

 

Reflecting on this bold statement down through the centuries, the Church has discerned two ways in which Jesus is the Bread of Life: by Word and by Sacrament.

 

First, in his Word. Elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus quotes the Book of Deuteronomy: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” But Jesus is himself the Word-made-flesh, and we feed on his Word whenever we hear, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest the Holy Scriptures.

 

In addition to feeding us with his Word, Jesus gives us his sacramental Body and Blood as food and drink for eternal life. Just as ordinary bread and wine sustain and nourish us for the life of this world, so the Body and Blood of Christ sustain and nourish us for the life of the world to come.

 

So, Jesus admonishes us, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life …” Now, does that mean that it’s wrong to ask God for things in this life that fall short of God himself? Despite what Augustine says in the passage that I just read, the answer is: Not necessarily.

 

In another commentary on today’s Gospel, Augustine’s near-contemporary Saint Ephrem of Syria offers another take on the question. He says this:

 

Our Lord made bread in plenty from just a little bread in the desert and changed water into wine at Cana. He first sought to accustom their mouths to his bread and his wine until the time would come for him to give them his blood as well as his body. He allowed them to taste a superabundance of transitory bread and wine, so that he might excite them to a superabundance of his living body and blood … He gave us lesser things to entice us to come and receive this supreme [gift] … These lesser realities of bread and wine … were pleasing to the mouth, whereas that of his body and blood is of benefit to the spirit. He enticed us with … things that are pleasing to the palate to attract us to that which vivifies the soul.

 

I find that image that image too lovely for words: the Lord entices us by means of lesser gifts to desire the greater gifts! Many writers on the Christian spiritual life down through the centuries, such as St. John of the Cross, have also suggested that when God seems to be withdrawing the lesser gifts, such as the joys of the beginner’s life of prayer, it’s not because he’s punishing us but because he wants to draw us in deeper. Like the crowd in today’s Gospel, we want an unending supply of temporal loaves and fishes, but he wants to give us infinitely more, indeed, nothing less than himself—for he is the Bread of Life, and we who come to him shall not hunger, and we who believe in him shall never thirst.