One of the more important, if not entertaining, lessons parents teach their youngsters is the difference between eating food, and everything else they might be interested in putting into their mouths. In a world of antiseptic wipes, gels, and coughs that must now be stifled in the crux of one’s arm, we take great care to teach about and model for them everything we ingest.
We do so because what we take into our bodies can change everything.
Taking something into our bodies is the most profound way there is of accepting it. Not just in the kitchen, but in the bedroom. While the mind ascents and the soul becomes stirred, it is the body that gives us the most tangible expression of what we mean to say, do, and accept.
Accepting the reign of Christ is at the center of Sunday’s Gospel – when Jesus tells us about a landowner who rents out his vineyard to some hoodlums who refuse to accept his authority. They don’t recognize who’s boss and, as a result, pay the price.
Accepting Jesus’ authority has gotten no easier. We still want to have things our way, take all the credit, and ignore the landlord. This is why Christians go to great lengths to ascent to God’s reign, not just with mind and soul – but, through the Sacrament of bread and wine that Jesus commended – we accept God’s reign through our bodies as well.
So if we are what we eat, could Communion make us anything better?
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Reading
Not Your Parent’s Offering Plate – J Clif Christopher
Matthew – Donald Hagner
Living in the Village – Ryan C. Mack
Who Says So?
During the first week of my first position as a priest, a sweet,
innocent looking 13-year-old boy named Vinnie came to my office with a
question. Little did I know that Vinnie was the Dennis the Menace of
the parish when he took me to a nearby stairwell where, underneath,
sat an old decrepit safe. Vinnie said the safe used to be in the main
office but no one had the combination and he wanted to see what was
inside. So he asked my permission to open it. Envisioning Vinnie
would come prepared with white gloves, a stethoscope, and loads of
patience (he was such a clean cut boy after all), I gave him
permission.
That Sunday after services, as a crowd gathered for coffee in the
Fellowship Hall, few people paid attention to the muffled din of
hammering and banging emanating from the nearby stairwell until a
concerned parishioner came up to me and said, ‘Vinnie is tearing apart
that old church safe with a crowbar and hammer, he says you told him
it was OK.’
Questions of authority have been with the Church since the beginning.
Who gives us permission? How do we know where the buck stops? By what
authority do we say and do? This last question comes up in this
Sunday’s Gospel as Jesus is confronted by the religious establishment
of His day. These religious leaders were looking to answer
essentially the same question you and I have asked: how does God want
us to live? What code or guideline do we follow? Where does authority
lie?
For those in the Anglican tradition, we approach these questions of
authority seeking to be informed by three sources, Scripture,
Tradition and Reason. The ‘three-legged stool,’ if you will, upholds
our ethical conversations as we seek first to hear the Bible’s take,
then those of our fore bearers, then that of human intellect. Sure,
other Christians may align these differently, or even add a leg or
two, but when you and I are presented with difficult questions, the
Anglican tripos has served us well.
Not long ago the WWJD bracelet was all the rage and reminded us that
the mind of Christ comes to us nearly always through Scripture,
Tradition and Reason. So in the week ahead, as we run across
important questions regarding politics, war, economics, and even
personal issues child-rearing and medical challenges, let us engage in
a wider conversation of discernment through these ancient, yet
relevant partners.
Getting Serious About Religion
11 years ago traveling through airports was easier, meeting people of Arab decent was less cautionary, and more of us thought that everybody loved the United States.
9/11 changed all that. And now, as we mark its tenth anniversary, we reflect on how things have changed and must change for us to move farther along the road of healing, to avoid anything like that again, and to importantly, consider what God is up to in all of this.
Of course, we can’t stop twisted people from doing twisted things. We cannot change others, we can only change ourselves, and looking more closely at our own place in the world is a good place to start.
The fact that most Americans self-identify as Christians yet cannot name all four Gospels is well documented. North American Christianity is historically, and notoriously, an inch deep and a mile wide. Reacting, then to a religiously motivated act with shallow roots in our own religion, not surprisingly yields a less than satisfactory response – of which there have been many. The solution to bad religion then, is not more bad religion, or no religion, but good religion.
In this Sunday’s Gospel, we are reminded that ‘good religion’ is about forgiveness and reconciliation. It is about turning the other cheek and forgiving 7 times 70. It is about cherishing peace above retribution and humility over vengeance. Our world desperately needs ‘good religion’ – and we are all called to spread it. So may we mark this dark anniversary with a renewed pledge to reach for the light – to get more serious about our work of reconciliation, humility, and love. Ten years later there are still evil people planning evil things – so let the good people plan good things.
Reading
Rambam’s Ladder – Julie Soloman
At the Still Point – Sarah Arthur
The Thank You Economy – Gary Vanyerchuk
image by Noel Sikes, Conyers, GA
image by Noel Sikes, Conyers, GA
The Sacred Meal: It's Personal, It's Real
When Nora Gallagher, a talented writer and devout Episcopalian, decided to write about one of Christianity's most nourishing practices, I had to get the book. (Thankfully, the folks at Booksneeze were kind enough to offer one for free in exchange for this review.) What Nora brings to this project, as she does to most everything she writes, is an authentic voice that recounts her struggles, triumphs, questions, and mysteries. It's not so much a book as it is a coffee shop chat with a close friend about one of the most formative practices in her life.
One of the book's memorable quotes (especially for those of us who regularly receive the Sacrament) is that Communion is something we do over and over again but is never the same. Eucharist can surprise, inspire, open and reveal. How ironic that something that changes so little has the capacity change us so much.
Communion is mainly something we do together, which has ramifications of its own. When we do it successfully we don't dictate who comes, the Holy Spirit does. I've heard it said that the health of a congregation is signaled by the number of unlikely friendships it nourishes. And when Communion does what it should, it binds us in the love of Christ, wrapping us up in the warmth and joy of God.
When we participate in The Sacred Meal, then it binds us to God and to one another, reminding us about the pinnacle truth of human life: we will not be exalted for what we earn, what we own, or what we accomplish, but how much we love. And placing ourselves into a community where sacrificial love is at the center gives us a better shot at becoming who we want to be. "It helps us free ourselves from everything that keeps us from loving and being loved, from competition, constraint, self-pity, and self importance - all the things that stand between us and love."
Recommended for those who are new to the faith as well as for those who have been sitting in the pews a while.