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“Close to the Heart of God”

Isaiah 55:1-5; Matthew 14:13-21

Rev. Dr. Marisa Laviola

 

Such a familiar picture.  The compassionate Jesus reaching out to the need of the people.   Jesus had just received terrible news.  We would read in previous verses that he had just heard that his cousin John the Baptist had been beheaded by Herod.  And even though he desired retreat in solitude to a deserted place, quiet moments to nurture his profound grief, the people were already there and filling that space of solitude.  And despite his need for quiet and restoration, the compassionate Jesus reached out.  In his sadness and grief, he healed and provided.  And he bid the disciples to provide alongside him.

This familiar story is the only miracle story that occurs in all four gospels. How significant this story must have been to each gospel writer of the 1^st century. The inclusive miraculous spiritual and physical provision of God.  The God-inspired experience of thousands of human beings selflessly sharing precious few loaves and fishes, some of which they may have brought with them to this deserted place.

And in the midst of the miracle, the profound juxtaposition of human brutality and human kindness:  Herod’s savage ravaging of John’s body and Jesus’ and the disciples’ nourishment of the masses.  The pain of God in the face of human greed and cruelty, and the wide blessing of God in the face of human selflessness and sharing. 

We come to this community gathering on this August Communion Sunday morning to ponder the relevance of this miracle story of 2000 years ago for our lives. 

What are we to make of Jesus’ deep pain for the brutality of one powerful human being murdering a powerless human being just because he can?  Like Jesus, we are aware of senseless violence and the injustice of dominating power. 

What are we to make of the disciples fearfully sharing their scarce provisions?  Like those disciples, we are aware of the seemingly sparse provisions in the world, a world of haves who desperately hold on to their scant resources; a world of have nots who desperately struggle to make it in this life.

What are we to make of just five loaves and two fishes becoming more than enough so that no one goes away hungry?  Like those 5000 people, we are aware that sometimes scarcity becomes enough when human beings share resources.   

It seems that everyday the headlines are filled with stories of brutality and violence, economic uncertainty and poverty, human misunderstandings and indifference--an experience of the human condition not much different than in Jesus’ day.  We live in a world of haves and have nots, with the haves clutching so closely to security, not so much out of greed but out of a desperate perception of scarcity and that there is not enough to go around. And with Jesus, at times we may want to retreat to a deserted place and hide our faces in bewilderment and grief.   Like the disciples, we may want to hold onto our loaves and fishes because we anxiously and desperately want to be in the have community.  Like the disciples, we may believe that there is just not enough to go around.  Not enough money, not enough peace, not enough justice, not enough compassion in our country or in other parts of the world. 

             And we may wonder.  Where is God in the midst of this hurting world of ours?  What of God’s promise in Isaiah 55 to provide abundantly and always for everyone?  Is God as present to us as when the loaves and fishes multiplied for everyone?   Is God as present to us as when Manna rained down from heaven to the Hebrews in the wilderness?  Is God still speaking, as we in the United Church of Christ fervently believe and extend such a message?  Or has God retreated into a place of solitude, in grief and sorrow, stifling tears or anger, throwing divine hands into the air in dismay?

Walter Brueggeman, professor emeritus of Hebrew Bible at Columbia Theological Seminary believes that God is very much present with us.  In his book, “Prayers for a Privileged People”, he writes that the first step to discovering God’s presence in this world is through prayer.  He suggests that as we are willing to come to God and pray deeply for the needs of this aching world, for those in Morrisville, for those in other communities in Vermont, for those in areas of our country and of our world, we begin to approach the very heart of God.  We can begin to acknowledge that as great as our needs are, there are others whose needs are even greater. 

We may find in that sacred heart space, a God who is in pain and who grieves for those who suffer from the effects of the ills of this world--and we may share that pain.  With such prayer we may grieve as Jesus grieved that human cruelty and indifference, violence and injustice in all forms can be brutal; that such can snuff out the very spirit of human life. 

We also may find that as we pray for the have nots all around us we become acutely aware that our security for now, the position of having enough, that for which we are indeed grateful, is but fleeting.  Such prayer can be difficult. Brueggemann suggests that as difficult as this kind of prayer may be, sharing this space of understandably anxious reality of our vulnerabilities as humans brings us closer to the heart of our God. 

And as we stay with God, in grief and in anxious reality, we can also discover a new hope and a renewed sense of purpose that even we, even we, can make a difference in our own lives and in the lives of others.  We can begin to realize, in the presence of our eternally giving God, just as Jesus’ disciples realized in the presence of the eternally giving Jesus, that what looks like scarcity is not scarcity at all.  There is more than enough loaves and fishes, economic security, justice and peace, for both the haves and the have nots, as long as the haves are willing to pray close to the heart of God and to lead in acts of peace, justice, and sharing of time and resources.  For God wills to provide for all God’s children, as long as those who have enough give of their blessings and of themselves and the blessings abound and multiply.  Giving inspires giving, and scarcity turns into adequate loaves and fishes for all. 

A recent article in the Washington Post described how despite economic hard times, volunteer work is on the increase.  In the article there is no explanation for this phenomenon.  From a God perspective, perhaps as folks realize the tentativeness of their own economic uncertainty they are more acutely aware of those who live every day of their lives with uncertainty.  On the Today show this past Thursday morning a 78 year old man in Florida with a fixed income was showcased.  From his home, he distributes food for the poor.  He has inspired churches to become involved.  He has inspired friends who drive him 60 miles round trip to gather food for his food bank.  His explanation?  He says he is so very grateful for what God has provided for him and wants everyone to know of God’s provision.  And his reward is the grateful tears of those who receive loaves of bread from his hands.

             In the 21^st century, God’s presence is not known to us as clearly as it was to our ancient ancestors.  God does not appear to us as God appeared to Abraham and Sarah or to Moses.  God does not speak to us through daily manna from heaven. We do not have the physical presence of Jesus to guide and to teach.  But God does speak to us.  God speaks to us as we discern the relevance of these ancient miracle stories for our lives and times.  God speaks through the deep meeting of our hearts with God’s Heart.  God speaks through heartfelt communion among ourselves.

And God’s active presence is very much alive in the 21^st century.  God acts through us.  God acts through all of us! 

Such action is foretold in the oracle in Isaiah 55.  Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant. See, you shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you shall run to you. 

Such action is foretold in Matthew when Jesus says to the disciples, "They need not go away; you give them something to eat." 

We hear of such action through the quiet life of a man on a fixed income in Florida. 

Jesus is giving us the same message he gave to his disciples. No one needs to go away empty.  All can be fed enough, cared for enough, as we share freely the provisions of God.

             Listening for God’s voice is not easy.  Praying close to the heart of the God who speaks to us with acute messages of the injustices in our world is not easy.  For as surely as we listen for God’s voice, we meet the heart of a pained and grieving God.  As surely as we dare to heed God’s voice that beckons us to act for justice, to give of our time, our gifts, and our resources freely, we certainly can experience caution and anxiety.  Heeding God’s call to look into the face of the have nots can help us to be grateful for what we have.  However, such looking also brings a keen realization that haves can become have nots in uncertain times, and we are all at risk.

But such prayer, alone with God, or with God and our brothers and sisters, can also bring healing to our retreating, weary souls.  Such prayer, alone with God, or together with others, can bring the courage to believe, as the disciples came to believe, that there is no scarcity of resources in this world.  There is enough so that all can be fed, all can know peace, all can know justice.  Such healing and courage speaks of Easter hope, as God’s people venture into the newness of God’s future where God truly is speaking and acting through God’s people.  Where God is inviting and beckoning each of us to join in abundance of life, faithful and loving community with all of God’s children, and faithful stewardship of resources for all of God’s children.

 

“True Food and Drink”

August 9, 2009

Rev. Dr. Marisa Laviola

 

`Let’s listen to the words from the sixth chapter of the gospel of John, verses 48 through 59.  In these verses we will hear words from Jesus that are unusual perhaps for our 21^st century sensibilities.  In these verses of John we read words that are not typical for the teacher, healer Jesus that we read in the gospels of Mark and Luke.  Jesus presents an image of himself that sets the disciples on edge and the religious community into a quandary.

³² Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. ³³For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.’ ³⁴They said to him, ‘Sir, give us this bread always.’ 35 Jesus said to them, ⁴⁸I am the bread of life. ⁴⁹Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. ⁵⁰This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. ⁵¹I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.’

52 The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, ‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat?’ ⁵³So Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. ⁵⁴Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; ⁵⁵for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. ⁵⁶Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. ⁵⁷Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. ⁵⁸This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live for ever.’ ⁵⁹He said these things while he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.

 

The lectionary for the entire month of August is curiously focused on Jesus as the bread of life presented in this sixth chapter of the Gospel of John.  Last week we focused upon Jesus’ offering more than enough bread to 5000 or more people.  This week and in the coming weeks, Jesus focuses on offering himself as true bread and drink.  If I chose, I could have preached sermons during the entire month of August sermons on this theme. 

As I began to ponder these shocking words of Jesus about eating his flesh and drinking his blood, I began to look back into the earlier verses of this chapter.  At the beginning of this chapter, Jesus sets the tone for discussing nourishment, and begins to weave an intricate picture of physical and spiritual hunger and nourishment in both the belly and the soul.  At the beginning of this chapter, just as we discussed in the gospel of Matthew last week, we find this gospel writer’s rendition of the miracle story of the feeding of the five thousand.  In this version, Jesus distributes the food himself without the help of the disciples.   

After this miraculous nourishment, Jesus tells the disciples something that may discourage them for a time.  He tells them that his giving of the loaves and fishes is just like God giving manna to the Hebrews in the wilderness after the Exodus. However, the loaves and fishes that he gives, just as the manna that God gave, miraculous as such a giving might be, only satisfies for a short time.  Such nourishment perishes, as does the body that eats it.  He tells them that if they partake of the true bread of heaven that God offers them, they will never be hungry again. 

The disciples understandably misinterpret Jesus’ intentions and eagerly ask for this bread, expecting, no doubt, actual physical food.  Jesus responds with confusing words, words that elude their grasp:  ⁵¹I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.’

By this time the religious community is listening.  They also misinterpret this metaphor and take Jesus literally.  They wonder, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”  But Jesus does not relent. He is attempting to get through to them a message that Jesus sees as essential to their understanding of God and their relationship with God.  He says, ⁵⁶Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. ⁵⁷Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. ⁵⁸This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live for ever.

What is Jesus saying here? What is his message? After all, these people are only human and it certainly sounds like he is speaking literally, doesn’t it?  Or does it?  This isn’t the first example of Jesus’ using a confusing metaphor, using literal words to signify spiritual truths.  Do you remember the story of Nicodemus?  He was a religious leader who so wanted to know how to get close to God.  Jesus told Nicodemus that he had to be born again, born of water and the spirit.  Nicodemus thought that when Jesus told him that he must be born again, Jesus meant that Nicodemus must enter again into his mother’s womb and be born a second time.  Do you remember the story of the woman at the well? Jesus offered her living water from which she would never thirst.  She thought he had actual physical water for her that would quench her physical thirst forever.  Nicodemus, the woman at the well, the disciples, all human beings just like us who ponder and scratch our heads at Jesus’ words here, the juxtaposition of hunger and thirst with an offer for complete satisfaction from that hunger and thirst.  “My flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.  Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them. . .and will live forever.”

Maybe Jesus knew something about people, the disciples, those religious leaders, Nicodemus, the woman at the well, or any of us--who are not always aware or just vaguely aware of the deep growling in our bellies, the growling that goes even deeper than our bellies.  The longing for nourishment, for a bread that sates, for a drink that quenches.  Gail O’Day, a theologian who wrote the commentary on the Gospel of John in the New Interpreter’s Bible suggests that Jesus’ emphasis here is not on what he gives such as food, but on himself as person, his relational presence.  Just as Jesus abides in the relationship with his parent in heaven, we humans abide with Jesus, as an extension of that relationship with God, as we take Jesus in totally and completely.

             As I pondered these verses even more deeply, I was brought back to the summer of 2006.  Part of training to become an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ is to spend a summer at a hospital developing one’s pastoral care skills; ministering to the sick, the dying, and their families.  I spent the summer of 2006 at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Brighton, Mass..  It was at that holy place, with those precious people, that these words of Jesus, the presence of Jesus speaking these words, took on precious meaning to me.  Assignments included the neo-natal and other intensive care units, the dialysis unit, and the emergency room.  I was blessed with the presence of Christ over and over again in the lives of so many people. I would like to tell you about sacred encounters with three of those people.  In each of these encounters, Christ was very present to us.  As they shared their spiritual and physical need and pain, we were nourished with food and drink in blessed moments of truly Holy Communion.

             I met Mary as she sat in a semi-inclined position, hooked up to a dialysis machine.  The clear tubing revealed her blood flowing to and from the machine, as it was being cleansed from impurities.  She told me she comes for dialysis every three days by public transportation.  When I first met Mary and asked the perfunctory “how are you today?” she replied with a heart gripping and very real “I’m dying.”  I had come to realize that dialysis patients do not always live very long and some decide that three- times-per-week trips to the hospital are too much to bear.  Sometimes they choose to stop their trips to the hospital.  Despite her heart wrenching reply, she smiled warmly at me with tears in her eyes and told me all about her small grandchildren with whom she lives.  As we prayed, her eyes brightened, and it was clear to me that her relationship with God sustains her in both gentle and formidable ways.  As I departed from Mary, I was deeply moved by the juxtaposition of machines that coursed her cleansed blood through her body, if only for awhile, and the everlasting presence of the incarnational and risen Christ that sustains her for eternity.  I experienced Christ’s presence, Christ’s body and blood in the presence of this dear woman. ⁵⁶Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. ⁵⁷Just as . . . I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me.

I met Jane in the respiratory intensive care unit.  She had flown up from Florida to keep vigil by her 46 year old son’s bedside as he lie comatose from liver failure.  He had suffered from alcoholism for many years, and even the day before when his sister insisted on his coming to the emergency room, he was denying his grave medical condition.  Jane looked up at me with sobs and almost unintelligible words as she asked me “how could God have allowed this to happen?”  I was silenced by the magnitude of her grief, her sense of abandonment and despondency that God had deserted her.  I felt at a loss to find words to comfort this woman as she sat watching her son die.  I found myself wanting to counter her claim, to re-assure her that God had not abandoned her, but I felt such words would set us apart rather than bring us closer.  Instead I knelt beside her and held her hand while she cried.  We spoke of how difficult it is to raise children and not always be able to be there when they make their choices—the heartbreak of motherhood.  We shared a relational moment that I would call nothing less than the presence of Christ that nourished us in the midst of the pain we shared.  Her pain for her dying son, my pain for her, and for anticipation of choices that my daughters will make that will bring me pain.  I also shared with her psalms that have sustained me when I have felt abandoned by God.  ⁵⁶Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. ⁵⁷Just as . . .I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me.

Jeannie was 6 weeks old when she died in the neo natal intensive care unit.  Her mom Tina asked if I would help her to make cremation arrangements, and to perform a memorial service on the unit, to share sacred space and time with those who had worked so tirelessly to care for Jeannie during her short earthly life.  I had not anticipated that my first service for a baby would be a funeral, but it was a truly sacred and spiritually nourishing moment for me. During the words of commendation, as I dedicated Jeannie to the loving arms of God, Tina wept the most intensely.  After the service as I spent time with Tina, I wondered with her if perhaps she was not prepared to be comforted by words that her daughter is in the everlasting Mothering arms, that she wanted her daughter in her own arms.  Tearfully, she nodded and said, “I’m not ready for Jeannie to be in God’s arms.  That will come in time, maybe. But I know she’s not in pain anymore.  She doesn’t hurt anymore. Maybe she’s even dancing.”  We shared a laugh, a sacred tearful laugh, an acknowledgment of the eternal life that is her daughter’s even though the medical community could not keep her blood pumping through her tiny body.  This mom was not ready to give up her mortal motherhood to the eternal motherhood, but she was ready to allow her daughter to dance for God.  And in this, and many other moments of Christ’s presence together, we shared life giving, nourishing time, even in the face of heart wrenching mortal death.

⁵⁶Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. ⁵⁷Just as . . . I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. 

There are those of us here this morning who have known the pain that comes with loss:  the loss of a family member or friend who has moved away, or becomes estranged because of harsh words or hard feelings; the loss of loved ones because of declining or progressive illness, or through death.  Perhaps we are experiencing our own declining physical or emotional health.  There are those of us who have witnessed poverty either in ourselves or in others: those who have not had adequate physical food, drink, shelter, or health care to sustain even the most basic needs. 

There are those of us who are more aware of our mortality than others and yet rejoice in the mortal lives we have to live, just like Mary in dialysis treatment.  There are those of us who at points in our lives have felt abandoned by God like Jane and ask “why does God allow such things to happen?”  Like Tina, there are those who have lost loved ones into the eternal arms, and are so not yet ready to release their loved ones from their own arms. Some of us wax philosophical as we attempt to answer difficult spiritual questions, too frightened to face the uncertainty in our own lives and in the lives of those all around us.   

As some point, each of us knows spiritual need and pain.  That’s all part of being human. Each of us knows the deep yearning in our bellies and our souls for a food and drink that sates and quenches: just like the Hebrews in the wilderness knew such yearning, just like Nicodemus knew such yearning, just like the woman at the well knew such yearning, just like the disciples knew such yearning, just like all the Marys, Janes, and Tinas in the world know such yearning.

             What is Jesus’ message for each one of us today in this scripture passage as he offers to us his body and his blood for food and drink? 

Could he be offering himself, his relational presence, a presence that is as everlasting, as sustaining and comforting as the relationship Jesus has with the heavenly parent, father and mother to us all, the one who truly nurtures and comforts, who truly fills us with the desires of our hearts and bellies?  

Could he be inviting us to take in all of him, as the taking in of Jesus’ presence and relationship, the whole person of Jesus, heals us of our deepest spiritual need, is our deepest spiritual food?

My friends, dare to consider, dare to ponder these words on your heart:  Jesus’ presence, the whole person of Jesus, is our deepest spiritual food.

Brothers and sisters, dare to pray these words in the depths of your spirit.  Dare to share these words with your family and your friends.  Jesus’ presence, the whole person of Jesus, is our deepest spiritual food.

Beloved of God, dare to listen to these words as God speaks them with a persistent nudge, a still small voice, a healing, relational presence.  Jesus’ presence, the whole person of Jesus, is our deepest spiritual food.

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