Ordinary 18 Year A

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be always acceptable in your sight, O God our Strength and our Redeemer.

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Imagine the scene – a rambling crowd of thousands who had followed Jesus out to ‘a deserted place’ after he’d gone out seeking solitude.

But the needs of the people drove them to find him and Jesus, full of compassion, set his solitude aside and spent the day among the crowds, thousands of people, people in need of healing and blessing. And by the end of the day, they were people in need of food also, hungry people….

And we know how the story goes….

Taking the five loaves and two fish the disciples brought to him, Jesus looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples…  And all ate and were filled, with plenty left over.

Those words connect the story right into our present, because the words and the pattern of the action are so well known to us: he took the bread, gave thanks, blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples… we hear those words and participate in those actions together, week in and week out in our liturgy, in this sacred setting of sterling silver and dignified vestments.

But these words are lifted out of a very different setting and a very different experience: the desert, the stony wilderness, a ‘lonely place’; a place filled with really hungry people, desperate people.

For us these words have become the centerpiece of something holy, dignified, comfortable, and fairly personal. But as with our other sacraments there is a seed of memory and meaning buried deep in the layers of what we’ve come to call the eucharist or holy communion. A seed in the form of real action, real experience, something visceral and basic and transformative. Hunger is the seed at the heart of this ritual – hunger and the sharing of bread.

This a story, and an experience, that has informed the sacramental action and theology of the church in the eucharist for almost 2000 years. An essay I read years ago joined the dots for me (I’ll print the reference in the newsletter):
“Bread, the biblical ‘food,’ is at the same time the most material, most bodily and most spiritual thing in Christian spirituality. The Eucharist, the mystery of faith, is bread. For this reason the sacrament is also a sign of our social nature, of the search for and the giving of bread … and [it is the] sign of the most primordial forms of justice and of gift.”1 (x2)

Having touched on our gospel reading this morning, I’d like to offer some broader comments about why we worship the way we do, as an introduction to our commentary series which will flow through this month.

Anglican worship is part of the wider worship of the whole Church, received and handed on through the generations. At the heart of that worship is the Eucharist: the shared meal of bread and wine in which Christians give thanks, hear the scriptures, pray for the world, and are drawn again into the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

The Eucharist begins with Jesus himself. In the gospels, on the night before he died, Jesus took bread and wine, gave thanks, shared them with his disciples, and said, “Do this in remembrance of me.” In words and actions, he gave his followers a way of remembering him that is more than simply calling him to mind. In the Eucharist, the Church is given a way of meeting Christ, receiving his life, and being formed as his body in the world.

From the earliest generations of the Church, the breaking of bread, the reading of scripture, prayer, thanksgiving, and care for those in need belonged together. We see this pattern already in the New Testament: in Acts, the first Christians devote themselves to ‘the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers’; in 1 Corinthians, Paul speaks of the bread and cup as a participation in Christ, and passes on the tradition of the Lord’s Supper.

By the second century, Justin Martyr (martyred 165CE) gives us a fuller description of Christian worship (printed in the front of your service booklets).

Justin Martyr describes the community gathering on Sunday, hearing readings from scripture, receiving teaching from the one presiding, sharing prayers, bringing bread, wine, and water, and offering a great prayer of thanksgiving. The consecrated gifts are then shared with all, and a collection is taken so that widows, orphans, strangers, the sick, the poor, and others in need may be helped.

Across Christian history, Eucharistic practice has varied. At different times and in different places, Christians have gathered for the Eucharist more or less frequently; the language, music, ceremonial, and customs have also changed. Yet the basic pattern remains recognisable: the people gather, the scriptures are proclaimed, prayers are offered, bread and wine are taken, thanks is given, the gifts are shared, and the Church is sent out to live the life it has received.

The word Eucharist comes from a Greek word meaning “thanksgiving.” This act of worship is not only something we do, but something that shapes who we are. In the Eucharist we give thanks for God’s creation, Christ’s saving work, and the gift of the Holy Spirit; we receive what we cannot do for ourselves. We are gathered, forgiven, fed, and sent.

So yes, we worship this way because it is our Anglican tradition. But more deeply, we worship this way because this is the pattern Christians have received from the beginning: to gather around word and sacrament, to give thanks, to share in Christ’s life, and to become, by grace, what we receive.

To return to today’s gospel – one of many stories which are part of the layers of theology that sit under the eucharist.

Having truly sufficient bread to eat means more than simply having enough food. It also means having a place to belong, and having one’s humanity and dignity restored and protected. It means having others to share food with. Remember that quote I shared earlier that told us that the eucharist [is the] sign of the most primordial forms of justice and of gift…

So then how does this sacrament – this theology-in-action – shape us?

Call us to act?

Help us to see our world more clearly?

We can continue to support the City Mission, through our contributions of groceries. We can let the eucharist teach us about hospitality here in this community, so that every stranger can come and find a home here at this table, and a place to belong. These are small actions that can make a huge difference.

And as important as anything in an election year, we can educate ourselves, because hunger is always a political and social issue. This could be as simple as spending an hour on the website of the Child Poverty Action Group, or checking out the social policy analysis of the Salvation Army. This will enable us to use our voices, use our votes, and use our advocacy wisely.

We call ourselves a eucharistic people. We often define ourselves by this action of sharing bread and wine – ‘the gifts of God for the people of God’. In it we become the body of Christ. As we live in this world that Christ loves, may we indeed become what we receive.

Amen.