SUNDAY SERMON
August 17, 2003
Proper 15, Year B
Church of the Holy Communion
The Rev. Gary D. Jones
Gospel: John 6:53-59
A number of men from our parish are attending the Annual Men's Conference at Dubose this weekend, and a friend of mine, Tom Ehrich, is one of the speakers. Tom writes a daily meditation that goes out to thousands via e-mail, and he always includes some brief vignette from his own day-to-day life.
Recently, he told about inviting a friend of his to go for a ride in his new sports car. Apparently, Tom had bought a new toy - some sort of powerful new Porsche or something - and this car is one of those amazing machines that is capable or truly extraordinary performance, well beyond anything most of us will ever know about from driving our own automobiles.
Anyway, he walked with his friend to the parking lot where his car was parked, put the key in the ignition, turned the starter, and … nothing. It was out of gas. What he discovered was that "Empty" on this new car of his actually occurred halfway between the one quarter mark and "E".
Tom's friend then drove him to purchase a gas can and gasoline. The car then started: "With fuel in the tank, it goes from being a sleek pile of metal and plastic to purring at 4,000 RPM."
The ultimate point of his meditation was the observation that the Episcopal Church, of which he is a priest, is a powerful community and institution that is capable of extraordinary things - far beyond anything many other organizations might be able to accomplish. But it has to have fuel. And filling it with rancor and debate will not get that machine running. It needs real fuel. And the question facing many of us, then, is "What is that fuel?" What takes this beautiful and extraordinary thing we call the Episcopal Church, with all of you lovely people, … what makes this powerful institution purr at 4,000 RPM?
In this morning's Gospel lesson, we have a similar theme that raises similar questions. Jesus said, "…unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you." And the question I'd like for each of us to ask ourselves here this morning is this: what gives you life?
What is it that gives you life, real life? I know good diet and exercise help us to feel good and increase the quality of life. But what fills you with real life, with abundant life, as Jesus put it?
Surely one of the foundational teachings of Christianity is that each person here is an extraordinary creation. You are created in the image of God, and as such, you are created with phenomenal power and potential.
So what is it that will take the amazing creation you are, created in God's image, what will take that image and bring it fully alive, … like the sleek pile of metal sitting in the parking lot, capable of being transformed into an invigorated, purring power, if only it had fuel?
I've asked a few people that question this week - "What gives you life, real life?" And I've asked people a corollary question, "What drains you of life - what takes life out of you?" and you can imagine the kinds of answers I got. Think about how you would answer: What gives you life? … And what drains you of life?
Many will say that it's loving relationships that give real life - even just sitting quietly with someone who knows everything, even the dirt, and can't imagine being happier with anyone else - this brings one fully alive, while being in the company of people who tend to criticize is what drains life away.
Receiving and offering forgiveness often makes the top of the list - the feeling of living a life of resurrection, out of a life of darkness and shame and secrecy and into a new life of light and joy and openness - this is as life-giving as it gets for some, while having to keep secrets from people we love, hiding our shame by drinking too much or staying at the office too much, or finding some other way to hide and avoid the truth - this is what drains life away.
Jesus said, "I am the Bread of life." Whoever eats this bread and drinks my blood has life. He came to give abundant life, he said. Because what Jesus found all around him were religious people who had become more and more eloquent about God, religious people who were increasingly and dogmatically clear about right and wrong, and religious people who were virtual experts at following the letter of the law. But they had no life in them.
There was a rigidity about religious people in Jesus' day, a standoffish quality, much like the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son. The older brother who had been so good and so religious for so long. But when they started to throw a party for his brother, the obvious sinner, the older brother completely lost sight of the tremendous ways he had been blessed - all he could see was a party being thrown for someone who squandered and flaunted all that was good and sacred, so the older brother stood outside with arms folded and refused to go in.
"If this is the way they're going to behave, I'm outa here. Is nothing sacred anymore?"
It was a rigidity and a coldness of heart that caused the religious people of Jesus' day to gossip and complain about all the ways in which Jesus was relaxing moral standards, from calling known sinners into his inner circle, to allowing prostitutes to touch him with affection. It was a rigidity that kept them from being able to love, and the result, in Jesus' words was, they had no life in them.
Was it perhaps questions like these that moved St. Paul to say so clearly, "If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. … And if I understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and have everything just right but have not love, I am nothing."
One of the pastors of the evangelical Willow Creek Community Church wrote in an article in Christianity Today:
It is a dangerous thing on questions of truth and significance to be wrong. But there may be a more dangerous thing: to be right and to know it.
The ironic result of the rigid concern about orthodoxy among the religious establishment in Jesus' day was that they became unable to love - they did not want people healed on the Sabbath, they didn't want an adulterer to be forgiven, and they didn't want sinners mixing with the righteous.
The drive to get everything right has a way of pushing aside or even running rough shod over the real task of Christian discipleship.
"Everyone will know you are my disciples," Jesus said, "if you love one another."
We all have our own personal struggles, situations in our lives that are life-draining. Many are struggling with their marriages; some are fighting life-threatening illness. Some are so stressed by their work that they don't even notice they are drinking more than they should - they're gaining weight, they're more tired and have less energy than they used to have. Some are living with anxiety about their children - something has gone wrong, a child has made a terrible mistake, but how can I speak about that when people are so prone to gossip and judgment? … The list of our life-draining struggles goes on and on.
These are the ones to whom Jesus offers abundant life, that is, to you and to me. Taking the flesh and blood of Jesus into our own lives, this is not about achieving greater moral judgment and precision, it is about learning to love and forgive as Jesus did.
"I wish the church would stand for something," I sometimes hear. I believe it is this love of Jesus we stand for. But more important than standing for something is the importance of kneeling for something - not taking ourselves too seriously, but taking God's call to humility and kindness and gentleness seriously. Because when we worship together here and get down on our knees together here, with all of our personal struggles, we might not always be more orthodox or morally enlightened when we get up off our knees, but over time, pray God, we will become increasingly humble and full of the mysterious love of God. And what we discover is that this mysterious love, love divine all loves excelling, is the source of true life. This is the fuel that will take our flesh and blood and transform us into life-giving instruments of God's Grace.