Take and Eat, This is My Body Preached to Wollaston Congregational Church by Zoom On March 29th, 2020 Scripture: Mark 14:12-26 It was the first day of Unleavened Bread --- the Passover festival. And it was the fifth day of the week. You will remember, I’m sure, the first day, when Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. And the second, when he entered the temple courts and overturned the vendors’ tables. On the third day he responded to tricky questions from the Pharisees and Herodians. And on the day we remembered last week, the fourth day, he dined in Bethany and a woman anointed him with costly nard. Today, the fifth day, we finally come to the event that is the reason Jesus and his disciples came to Jerusalem. It is the great celebration of the liberation of the Jewish people who were enslaved in Egypt. On this night over a celebratory meal, they remember the foods their people ate that night long ago. When the Israelites made a break for freedom in the great Exodus, they could not risk slowing themselves down. Leavened bread would have taken too long to rise. They were to sacrifice a lamb and use its blood to give a sign over their doors. They were to eat the whole lamb, roasted with bitter herbs, as sustenance for the journey. This was their last hearty meal before the 40 years spent wandering the wilderness. This was the meal that was remembered many years later by Jesus and his disciples in Jerusalem. And it is a meal that is still remembered in more elaborate Seders by our Jewish siblings to this day. This is all to say … Jesus and his friends and followers already know the significance of the meal. They understand the reason they eat each item of food shared at the table. This is a meal that they have eaten with family and close friends since they were old enough to chew and swallow. Even when they were too young to grasp the words of the Exodus story, they had ingested the meaning of it. And so, Jesus seizes this moment to share with them the meaning of his life and his sacrifice. They have not been listening, of course. The message that the Son of Man must suffer, die and on the third day rise again … still has not sunk in. In just a few hours their world is going to be turned upside down. They will see their Lord, their beloved, taken away to be crucified. They will feel bereft, broken and powerless. In the days ahead, the trauma of the violence of the cross will blot out Jesus’ words. But the sight of Jesus’ hands raised in prayer for the blessing, the sound of the wine poured into the goblet. The crisp unleavened bread, and the rich red wine. Jesus offering each one a sizeable chunk of bread and a deep satisfying swig. These are things that will stay with them when the dust has settled, these are the ways they will remember him. Some years ago, I was going to serve as an intern in a local church. But, right before I came on board the pastor of the church, who had once been so full of life and spirit, was cut down by cancer. Pastor Jess was beloved of the congregation, she was beloved of the small youth group. The youth felt her absence most keenly. Now there was no settled pastor for me to report to. But the interim minister asked me if I would go ahead with the internship anyway. I felt called by God, and I was supported by a wonderful mentor, so I decided to go to be with this church. I discovered that my responsibilities would include pastoral leadership for the youth group. The group was despondent. Their beloved pastor was gone – the one they trusted to teach them, laugh with them and guide them through the minefield of their teenage years. They felt betrayed by God and by those who had taught them their childhood faith. Some of them had simply left. A decimated little group remained, disappointed in this new “student pastor” leader. Their attitude bounced between normal teen silliness and despondency. They communicated their worries over Pastor Jess, and other events in their lives, via prayer requests written on little slips of paper. Mostly they couldn’t bring themselves to talk out loud about it with me. I realized that my time with this group would be spent ministering to their loss. I’d need to prepare them for what would be the greater loss when either Pastor Jess or one of their family members died. This required the youth making the quantum leap from the faith of childhood to the faith of mature adulthood. This is something few adults achieve. And they would need to do all this in the midst of trauma. I was to be their guide. But … how? Then I learned that the group was responsible for leading the Good Friday worship service for the church. This would be exactly one year after Pastor Jess had been diagnosed. The traumatic memory of the event would be resonating through the whole congregation. And so I began to work with the youth on a dramatization of the Passion narrative. We had the familiar scenes: -the accusations, -Peter’s denial, -Judas’s betrayal -Jesus making his sad and lonely way to the cross. And then the crucifixion. How would we show Jesus body, broken in that violent way, in the midst of our own feelings of loss? How would we express, with respect and devotion, Jesus blood poured out in this great act of love for the world? Of course, there was a 12 year old who was willing to play the gore-y role. But that just didn’t seem right, even to the youths themselves. In the end the story of that Last Supper on that fifth night provided the answer. When the moment came one solitary girl in somber dress came forward in front of the scene of “Jesus” who draped his arms around a wooden cross. She was carrying a beautiful loaf of fresh baked bread on a platter which she placed on a pedestal for all to see. Music played “Bread for the world in mercy broken.” The girl broke the loaf, clean in two. The song continued “Have mercy, have mercy, have mercy, on us.” She processed out carrying the platter. The youth group members followed silently behind. The congregation left the sanctuary in silence each taking a piece of bread as they went. The teens had already gathered in the fellowship hall, excited for an overnight “lock in”. In this moment, I listened to God for what to do next … then I knew … I carried the remaining loaf into the hall and asked the youth to “circle up”. They stood around, itching to be on their way. Yet, I could tell they had been moved by the drama they had just portrayed. I tore off chunks of bread … this is Christ’s body broken for you ---- we ate, hungrily. Then we prayed, “…thank you Jesus for being present with us in worship, be with us as we wait for Sunday and the resurrection morning.” Then they were off. The breaking, the chewing, the swallowing of the fresh baked bread was a memory, stashed away for when they would need it. Friends, in these times we are a bereft body of Christ. We are already broken, in advance of holy week, unable to gather physically in our sacred space. We feel impotent in the face of rapidly changing directives and guidelines. First we were told to wash our hands and avoid touching one another. Then we were told to make physical distance – 6 feet – between one another. Now we are to limit all contact. This is profoundly difficult for everyone. Human social contact is necessary for our wellbeing. It is most difficult for those who live alone. We may also experience the fear and anxiety of the possibility of becoming ill. Nurses, doctors, chaplains, and other healthcare providers have to balance their own wellbeing (and the wellbeing of their families) against the need to care for others. Other essential workers also face risks and have to learn to do their work very differently. And then there are those whose work has been deemed unessential and they have been laid off. Financial worries add to their anxieties. It is so difficult for people of faith to be unable to gather in these times. This is especially true to for those who hold dear our communion services, our remembrances of the Lord’s Supper. Still, we do have this medium … the internet and I hope to utilize it to the best of our ability. On April 9th at 7pm we will observe Maundy Thursday with another Zoom service, to which you are all invited. Holy Thursday is a time when the celebration of communion is most poignant. If you join us, you are invited to bring your own bread and your own cup to the service. You may not have bread or grape juice in the house. That is OK. Bring whatever you have … crackers, cookies, juice, coffee, tea, water etc. We will pray over those elements in front of each of us. We will break our “bread” whatever shape it takes … and we’ll chew and swallow. It will stay with us, fortifying us over the coming days and weeks. When the disciples were no longer able to be with Jesus, to hug him, to look into his eyes, to hear him speak, they had the bread and the cup. They were be physically separated, but spiritually connected. When the temple was destroyed, and their sacred space was gone Followers of Jesus would gather in homes for their communion meal. Even as we remain in our own homes, connected by the invisible link of the internet or telephone, may Jesus become every more present to us, in each morsel of bread, each gulp of the fruit of the vine. May all God’s people say, Amen
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