Sermon: "God, alone, fills us" Preached on March 24th, 2019 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture:Isaiah 55:1-9 Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Free food, free drink, free luxury chocolate! Free Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, free coffee, free pastries, free wine, free beer! What kind of a way is this to begin a Lenten reading? Many Christians are just two weeks into our annual Lenten fast. They have given up coffee, chocolate, alcohol, or some other luxury item. For those who are fasting, this is about the time when we discover, after that initial resolve, how much of a hold that particular “vice” has on us. In this part of the world, we are surrounded by food almost all the time. We have access to every type of rich food and drink. The bakeries, restaurants, and coffee shops pay no attention to the Lenten fast. The grocery stores had chocolate eggs and other Easter goodies on display before Lent even began. We have to make a special commitment to fast in order to find out what it means to miss those things. And so the surprising passage we read today from the book of Isaiah presents us with some questions: What does faith have to do with bodily hunger and desires? What does our access to food have to do with our faith? And if it hunger and thirst are connected with faith, how might Isaiah’s message of luxury food in abundance apply to us today? The biblical book of Isaiah book spans three different eras. It is generally understood as prophetic writings from these times, written in the tradition of the prophet Isaiah. The text we heard today comes at the end of the second of those eras, known as “Isaiah of Babylon”. The prophet is writing to the people of Israel who lived some 600 years before Christ and were forcibly deported from Jerusalem to Babylon. The language is tender and comforting, it’s quite different from the exhortations of the part written in the period before the exile. As we have noted before, prophets are often called to afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted. For some 50 years, the exiled children of Israel lived in a foreign land, separated from their beloved one-God who could not be named. They believed their Lord, to be literally resident in the temple in Jerusalem. They were separated from Jerusalem and so they were separated from God. To which members of the community is Isaiah speaking, in this free food/free drink poetry? Is it to the ones who have assimilated and made good in this new strange land? Is it the ones who sent their kids to college in Babylon and have taken up positions in government, artfully adapting their skills for the “new reality”? Or, perhaps, on the other hand, Isaiah is speaking to - the ones who have never been able to grasp the language and have never been able to make a home in Babylon? - the ones who live with their meager belongings still bundled up from the forced relocation? Perhaps he is speaking to the ones who cannot bring their hearts to this place, because they buried their spouse or their child back in Jerusalem? Or to the ones who had little to offer to the Babylonian culture, other than cleaning the bathrooms, and nursing the infants, of this imposed new ruling class? How must Isaiah’s “words of comfort” seem to these homesick people? What is meaning of the finest bread, milk, and wine, without price? Don’t these words sound insane, given their poverty of the hearers? And yet, perhaps they might also sound hope-filled. Perhaps they also serve to remind the exiles that their God has not forgotten them. Perhaps they assure them that God will fulfill God’s covenant with them in God’s own way. They encourage them to hang in there, that deliverance will come and Jerusalem with be restored along with all the good things they hunger for. The book “Take this Bread”, by Sara Miles, focuses on themes of hunger and food and the connection with the sacrament of Holy Communion. Miles was raised in an intellectual atheistic household, but her story tells of her ‘radical conversion’ to Christianity as an adult. She says: “One early, cloudy morning when I was 46, I walked into church, ate a piece of bread, took a sip of wine. A routine activity for tens of millions of Americans - except that up until that moment I’d led a thoroughly secular life … This was my first communion. It changed everything.” [1] Faith, for Sara Miles, isn’t an argument, a creed, or a philosophical ‘proof’ “it is a lens, a way of experiencing life and a willingness to act.” [2] The book “Take this Bread” borrows a verse from Psalm 34, inviting the reader to tasteandseethat the LORD is good! From the moment Sara Miles received communion at St Gregory’s of Nyssa in San Francisco, she knew she wanted to become a Christian. Sara heard the gospel stories in church with the fresh ears of a convert. And soon she noticed that something wasn’t quite right. There was a conflict between the lovely communion services she was attending, with wealthy educated people at St. Gregory’s, and Jesus’ command to feed the hungry. She says, “The Christianity that called to me, through the stories I read in the Bible, scattered the proud and rebuked the powerful … It was an upside-down world … in which the hungry were filled with good things and the rich sent out empty.” [3] Prior to coming to San Francisco, Sara Miles spent a period living among the poor in El Salvador, as a journalist. In that community food was scarce, and what food there was, was of a very poor quality. When Miles moved to San Francisco, she could not help but notice the stark contrast between the educated and affluent “foodies” and the poor of the city. She was primed to do something. Miles began a food ministry out of St Gregory’s, collecting the abundant supplies of fresh produce that would otherwise go to waste and redistributing them to the poor. In time this ministry grew into a wonderful meal service. She recruited helpers from the food pantry clientele to cook and serve. Meanwhile, communion and worship at St. Gregory of Nyssa fed a hunger in Sara of which she had been unaware. Over time Sara Miles’ ministry to the poor and hungry of San Francisco developed into what she describes as a service, modeled on the liturgy of the Eucharist, or communion. When St Gregory’s kitchen served meals, they imparted the love of God. Miles met with the Bishop of California to talk about her ministry, and he told her “there’s a hunger beyond food, that’s expressed in food … and that’s why feeding is always a kind of miracle. It speaks to a bigger desire.” [4] There’s a hunger beyond food, that’s expressed in food. Sometimes I celebrate communion with a group of people who are experiencing an exile of their own. They are the Christian residents of the eldercare facilities that I visit. Most of these elders are afflicted with some combination of dementia, blindness, deafness and other serious challenges. They are exiled from the places they called home due to their need for residential care, or they are dislocated by the loss of their memories, and other faculties. I have preached sermons, sung hymns and said prayers with these little congregations. And I have learned that a thoughtful sermon, or a meaningful prayer may or may not touch their souls. The hymns and songs will engage them depending on their recognition or mood. But, these elders always come ready and hungry for communion, even if it can only be a drop of juice on the tip of their tongue, even if is can only be the touch of the blessing on their head or arm. A hunger beyond food, that’s expressed in food. What was the hunger you brought to here to church today, the hunger of which you were unaware? - Was it the hunger for true friends who understand you – rather than empty friendships: the superficial, the temporary? - Or was it a hunger for a more meaningful relationship with God and with your loved ones? Was it a hunger for an honest relationship with your spouse, or your sweet heart? Was it a hunger for a relationship that will honor the reflection of God you meet in that person? - Or was it a hunger to be true to yourself, and so true to God? Was it a hunger to put down the pretenses of “doing fine” and being “put together”? Was it a hunger to admit, that you, like those marginalized Israelite exiles, don’t feel quite comfortable in this changing social landscape of ours? Do you keep the treasure of your heart in bundles, still unable to find the right place to put them down? During the season of Lent, whether we fast from food, drink or other distractions, we discover the holes and hungers in ourselves that our addictions, our indulgences, our treats, were filling. Because, as Sara Miles says, there’s a hunger beyond food that’s expressed in food. Today, during our music for reflection, I am inviting you to come and receive a sacramental chunk of fresh baked bread to fill that space. And in receiving that bread, may we remember that “God, alone, fills us.” Amen. [1]Miles Sara, Take this Bread: The Spiritual Memoir of a Twenty-first Century Christian, (New York: Ballantine Books, 2007), xi [2]Ibid, xvi [3]Ibid, 68 [4]Ibid, 175
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