13 Pentecost B/Proper 16/ Ordinary 22 August 23, 2015
Luther Memorial Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie G. Hutson
Joshua 24: 1-2a, 14-18 + Psalm 34: 15-22 + Ephesians 6: 10-20
John 6: 56-69
Be known to us, you who are our daily bread, in the word we hear and receive. May the gifts you have given to all people be shown forth in our listening and in our living. Amen.
In 1971 the Bee Gees released a hit single entitled “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?” Does anyone remember it? As I’ve been preparing for the sermon this week and letting the readings assigned for this day settle into my mind and spirit, I kept coming back to the Psalmists lyric: The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those whose spirits are crushed. Unfortunately, the song tune that absolutely stuck in my head this week was this one from the Bee Gees! So I decided to Google the lyrics and I just typed in “song lyrics: broken heart.” Do you know how many song lyrics contain those words? Apparently if there were not broken hearts and broken down pick up trucks the entire country western music genre would cease to exist!
But the truth is, there are many days and times when it is to these words of the Psalmist we turn and we cling. The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those whose spirits are crushed.
There are so many of us whose hearts are breaking or have broken in one way or another sitting in these pews today, or standing in this pulpit, or sharing a cup of coffee together after church. Our hearts have been broken by betrayal and disappointment in others and in ourselves. Our hearts have been broken by friends and family members who are wiling to sacrifice relationships for politics. Our hearts break for others – for the families of those three young firefighters killed in Eastern Washington this week; for the families whose lives have been torn apart by gun violence in places like Charleston, Newtown, Columbine, and countless others. Our hearts break for leaders unwilling to be courageous enough to insist that this senseless violence end. Our hearts break for the families who sleep in their cars in this neighborhood and others like it. Our hearts break for those who come to our window because they don’t have enough to eat. Our hearts break when we wake up in the morning and remember that our loved ones are not with us.
The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those whose spirits are crushed.
I wonder if Jesus held these words in his own heart in our Gospel reading today? He would have grown up hearing this Psalm sung in the temple. As we read today’s Gospel reading from the sixth chapter of John, Jesus and many of his disciples, those who had been following him, are in the synagogue at Capernaum. Jesus is teaching, and his teaching throughout this chapter of John has been focused on how he is the Bread of Life, given for the world.
And in today’s reading many of his disciples finally throw up their hands and give up. “This teaching is difficult,” they cry “who can accept it?” And when it boils down to it, at the end of the reading many of his disciples turn away and leave him.
How heartbreaking must it have been for him to watch them go? We get some idea of his disappointment, when with his next breath, Jesus turns to the 12 and asks “Do you also wish to go away?”
Truth is, many of Jesus’ teachings, maybe even most of them, are difficult. The last will be first. Turn the other cheek. Love your enemies. Pray for your persecutors. Sell all you have and follow me. Lose your life in order to gain it.
On any given day, this Jesus way of living in the world is hard to accept. We live in a world that tells us to work to get to the top; to exact revenge on our enemies; to seek an eye for an eye; to amass our possessions and safeguard them in storage units when they overflow from our homes. And above all, to preserve life as we know it at all costs.
This teaching of Jesus is hard, who can accept it? Who can blame the others from walking away? After all, if we can’t accept it, what then?
Simon Peter answers Jesus’ question to the disciples with words that we sing as we greet the Gospel reading. “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
After worship this morning I will have the great privilege and pleasure of meeting with two of our youngest disciples: Maya Bloom and Daniel Lingappiah. Maya and Daniel are pre-schoolers. But here’s what I’ve learned from them in the time I’ve known them. Some days life can be so hard that when we come to the altar we need to hold hands with someone who loves us. And some days we can feel so full of joy when we come here that we run up the aisle and up the steps just to get to Jesus. And some days we don’t want to look anyone else in the eye, but we can kneel here and let them look at us.
And what I’ve observed in Daniel and Maya is that they have come to know that whatever is happening here at the table of the Lord when the bread and the cup go by….they are ready to be there. The people they know and trust and come to this table with are eating the living bread from heaven and they want to do the same.
When I was growing up, back in the days of the Bee Gees, we were told we had to be of a certain age and a certain measure of understanding before we could come to the communion table. But even Jesus disciples threw their hands up, said it was all too hard to understand, and walked away.
Sisters and brothers, it is not how we understand Jesus as bread of life that matters. What matters is that we are called by God to a feast and a meal that does not end…to receive bread and wine and to believe that Christ is here with us….in all that we are and in all that he is.
Understanding is not what Jesus called us to do. He simply called us to come to the table and take and eat…..body of Christ, bread of heaven. Take and drink….blood of Christ….cup of salvation. Jesus did not say “Pull out your credentials of understanding. Show that you passed the test. “ Jesus said Come to the table….eat, drink, remember.
This is what I have said to Maya and Daniel’s parents and it is what I say to you, about coming to the Eucharistic table. On some days, our understanding feels full…it feels girded up by our faith practices and by our life’s circumstances. We feel confident and complete when we come to the table. In some way, we feel that we ‘get it’. But on other days, we need to hold the hand of someone else in order to get ourselves here. We may not be able to meet the eyes of another because our brokenness feels too fresh, too much to bear. Our understanding evolves and unfolds in new and different ways as we come to recognize the table of the Lord as a place of consistent succor, where God’s mercy and grace are poured out for us in flesh and blood.
A couple of years ago, a woman I had never seen before, and have not seen since, came into Sunday worship. She wept as she sat in the pews, which is not uncommon. As the assembly began to move up the aisle for communion, I saw her shake her head “no” at the usher’s invitation to the table. Some conversation between them ensued, and finally I saw her face soften just a bit as she slid out of her pew and took her place in the line of people coming forward. Later the usher told me what she had asked. She asked “Is that where Jesus is?” And assured that it was she moved into the line, allowing those gathered with her….those gathered with varied understandings and experiences….with certainty and doubt; with sorrow and joy; with broken hearts and hearts that were mended…..she allowed you to bear her burdens as community formed at this table.
Some days the teachings of Jesus are hard enough to make us gather up our broken hearts and turn to walk away; then we remember the words of Simon Peter….”Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
Thanks be to God. Amen.