Bread of Life! In my early years in Philadelphia I was asked to speak at a Christian College about the various positions on the Bread if Life in Holy Communion amongst the reformers of the 16th century. A scholarly topic! I felt honored, accepted the challenge and, upon diligently researching my books, experienced what almost every teacher knows: by preparing the lecture I was the one who learned and gained most. And what made me really happy was when someone told me afterwards: “I grew up Lutheran, went to confirmation class, but for the first time I really understand what our position is.” Then I wondered: is “understanding our position” something most people care about anymore? Well, maybe not, and maybe that’ not such a big deal. Positions are often lines that we draw in the sand. Maybe positions are not such a big deal. But let me tell you what is a big deal.
The question of how God meets us in the sacrament of Holy Communion was one of the triggers that caused the church to split and drift apart hundreds of years ago. Now that was a big deal and, even if you have no interest whatsoever in church history, think about it: what a tragedy, what an obvious manifestation of our spiritual inability! The sacrament of Holy Communion, which is supposed to call all Christians onto one table, unite us with Christ, heal us from sin, this sacrament ends up becoming a cause of separation. I tell you, the devil couldn’t come up with a better strategy! By the end of the 16th century, Catholics, Lutherans and Calvinists all had denounced each other’s positions in many matters, including this sacrament. They stayed in their own churches; they set up their own altars; they stuck to their own theologies; essentially, they each had their own Christ, their own Bread of Life!
For the record, the differences between the various traditions can be boiled down to this, just in case you never heard about it and wanted to know. The Catholic Church, following their great teacher Thomas Aquinas, claimed that bread and wine are miraculously, substantially changed in the act of consecration. If I understand it correctly, the elements take on a different substance with the sound of the priest’s bell. It’s called trans-substantiation. (Don’t worry, I won’t make you remember that term.) The reformed church, under the leadership of John Calvin, tried to take the magic out of it, teaching that bread and wine are symbols of God’s presence; they remind us of Jesus and his message, but he is not really “in it”. Martin Luther was afraid that Calvin went too far and said, “No, Jesus is present in Bread and in the Wine, we just can’t explain how.” Also for the record, I am very comfortable with the Lutheran position because it doesn’t pretend that we can explain the mystery. The Lutheran position is also called “Consubstantiation.” It’s terribly important for you to know that term…
I bet none of those sophisticated, well-meaning explanations of the Sacrament of Holy Communion impressed God; yet the thinkers of God, the theologians, found their positions impressive enough to tear Jesus’ body into pieces! So thorough was this divorce in the family of God that it prevails to this day. The people of St. Rose worship up the street, the people of St. Luke’s worship down the street, and plenty of people don’t worship at all. Can we just keep Jesus and his message in the sacrament and leave it there?
If this period of church history teaches us anything than it’s this: we usually can’t convince people who have developed their own positions with rational arguments. We all know that deep inside. Our own hyper-partisan climate proves it anew every week. And yet people keep trying to convince others with brainy fervor. The open secret is: we are really not as rational as we appear to be. Yes, we come to rational conclusions often by way of impressive arguments, but they are driven by motives deeper than mere thoughts: emotions, allegiances and memories that go way back, identity, fear, insecurity, pride, you name it. If we are wise, we pay attention to our hearts and search them diligently before we put too much confidence in our rationalizations.
Now, is there is anything good at all in this schism that happened many hundreds of years ago and continues to this day? And to my own surprise, I can actually see one possibility: the brokenness in the church reminds us of the brokenness that so often exists and prevails in our own families. The broken church is a mirror of the human imperfections we experience all the time: at work, at home, in the quiet recesses of our own hearts, in the hectic back and forth of the world. The church is not one iota better than the rest of the human family. The fact that we are still divided over the sacrament of unity should give us pause and keep us from lecturing others. We are as much as anyone dependent on God’s grace and forgiveness, the spiritual gifts offered to everyone in this sacrament.
So, maybe we need to be broken, lest we think we got it all together. The realization of our own vulnerabilities whenever it breaks into our consciousness, is a good thing. It keeps us humble. Of course, it keeps us humble only if we can admit to our less than perfect parts and face them. The old practice of confession in church is all about facing our own schisms, the inconsistencies in our own hearts. It’s not about making us feel bad. It’s about opening us up to face our inner selves and let them be greeted by God’s love and grace – in the sacrament of Holy Communion!
These gospel texts from John 6 which we have heard over the last few weeks remind us that Jesus simply said, “I am the Bread of Life.” – “I am the one who will nourish you when you go through the biggest non-sense in your life.” – “I am the one who will feed you when you feel that things are falling apart.” “I am your Bread and the Bread of all people.” What the church did through those relentless battles of arguments was not creating life. But Jesus said, “I am the Bread of Life.”
I heard about a person who left the church as an adolescent and never returned. He traced his disillusionment back to several incidents, including, he said, a memorable discussion about the Lord’s Supper in his confirmation class. He asked his teacher a provocative, intelligent question: how was the sacrament any different from the ritual cannibalism practiced in some tribes in which they eat the body of the departed leader in the belief that by doing so they will receive the leader’s powers? His teacher was agitated by the question and responded, “What a disgusting suggestion! It has nothing to do with cannibalism. We’re talking about a blessed sacrament, not some primitive ritual. It’s completely different.” And he refused to continue the discussion.
Well, what it boils down to is this: the teacher was simply afraid! If he had been a little bit more honest and vulnerable, open-minded and insightful, he would have been able to admit that there are indeed connections between our wonderful sacrament and the practices of other religions, even past and so-called “primitive” religions. Perhaps today, in the age of the global village, it’s easier for us to see that and it is a sign of much needed vulnerability to say: we can relate to people with different religious practices. We are not that different, and at the same time, with great care, conscious of our own sinfulness, we can invite all people to come to this broken table and be healed and nourished by the Bread of Life. Amen.