sweet to me to reconnect with folks last weekend - and share the South African Freedom Mass - that I eagerly anticipate being in worship again this week. Those who have visited this site before - and have shared my journey - know that I regularly return to reflections on the Feast of God. For the next 6 weeks I will be seeing where this new year takes me in the context of our faith community. I trust something insightful will emerge. So, if you are around, please join us at 10:30 am.Today I am going to ask you to join me on a six-week journey into one of the most neglected – but essential – truths about following Jesus and living as a disciple in the 21st century: feasting with God.
• Feasting with God means living fully alive: awake and sensual – alert and attentive – to beauty and justice, body and soul, head and heart.
• It is a spirituality that trains us to live sacramentally – in the presence of God’s holy mystery while fully engaged in our ordinary or quotidian existence – from the word sacrament meaning “sacred feast.”
And feasting with God nourishes us with grace so that we become companions of compassion with friends, strangers and even our enemies. Remember how Psalm 23 puts it?
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou
art… with me, right? (companions, yes?)
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. (AND…) thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies… and anointest my head with oil; so that my cup over flows. Surely (as a companion of compassion) goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life… (so that WHAT?) I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
Think about those two words – companions and compassion – for just a moment because this is crucial:
• Companion comes from two Latin words: “cum, meaning “with,” and panis, meaning bread. So our companions are those with whom we share meals… and break bread.” Holly Whitcomb, Feasting with God, p. 1
• Compassion has its root in two 14th century French words – com, which means together, and pati which means to suffer – combined they become compassion – to share a companion’s pain or suffering. And isn’t that how we traditionally talk about Jesus – as one who shares our pain – as one who lives within and among us as a companion in compassion? Hebrews 12 in the New Testament puts it like this:
Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him by God, endured the pain of the cross, disregarding its shame and has now taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God in glory.
Feasting with God, you see, is a vital albeit neglected way of raising up disciples for Christ. It is undervalued, often mocked and usually considered inferior
to the higher paths of intellectual theology or dogma. But I have to tell you not only did Jesus spend more time opening up hearts by feasting with God, he also asked us to go and do likewise.
• What do we say during Holy Communion? He took bread – and after giving thanks to God – he blessed it and broke and shared it with his disciples saying, “Take and eat, this is my body broken for you… Do this… (WHAT?)… as often as you gather in remembrance of me?
• Or how did the scripture that I read at the start of worship put it: Luke 24?
They came to the edge of the village… and Jesus acted as if he were going on but they pressed him: "Stay and have supper with us. Break bread with us for its nearly evening and the day is done." So he went in with them. And here is what happened: Jesus sat down at the table with them. And taking the bread, he blessed and broke and gave it to them. And in that moment, open-eyed, wide-eyed a
nd awakened, they recognized him… And they said, "Didn't we feel on fire as he conversed with us on the road and opened up the Scriptures for us?"
Feasting with God is a time-tested, Christ-inspired way for training disciples that I sense is essential to recover in our generation. To my way of thinking, it is one of the ways God sets before us the path of life or death. Like Moses on his death bed, crying out to Israel before they crossed over the Jordan River into the Promised Land, the spirituality of the feast says to you and me:
I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the LORD your God, obeying him and holding fast to him. For this means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the LORD swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.
Am I making any sense here? For the next six weeks I want explore the spirituality of God’s feast with you so that we might become more lively, authentic and joy-filled disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because let’s be honest: being a disciple in the way of Jesus Christ is tough.
In this morning’s text he told the crowd: Following me into the grace of God is NOT a walk in the park… Anyone who comes to me but refuses to let go of father, mother, spouse, children, brothers, sisters—yes, even one's own self!—can't be my disciple. Same goes for anyone who won'
t shoulder his or her own cross and follow behind me: they can't be my disciples either! (Luke 14: 25-27)
• Biblical scholars are divided about what is really being said here: some suggest that Jesus is telling us that unless we make a bold and conscious choice to leave everything behind – our wounds, our history, our ego and our possessions – we are choosing to follow other gods. Call them idols or addictions, one camp insists that discipleship means a very literal reading of this and related texts.
• Others – and I am more closely allied with this group – think that Jesus is actually telling us that choosing to be his disciple is actually impossible for us to do all by ourselves. As Peterson puts our text: Simply put, if you're not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can't be my disciple. (Luke 14: 33)
Do you appreciate this distinction? One way teaches a discipleship based on self-denial and discipline – this is a spirituality of rules – while the other says that only God’s grace can make us disciples. And here’s where it gets really interesting for me because this second path – this radical trust of God’s grace – tells us that while certain things – including discipleship – may be impossible for us, with God ALL things a
re now very possible and in the present tense, too.
• “An old couple and a virgin,” writes preacher Brian Stoffregen “give birth to sons.” Tax collectors give away half their wealth.
• When John the Baptist worried whether Jesus was the one he was waiting for – the Messiah – Jesus told him to just look at what was taking place: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor hear the good news of God’s justice.
And let’s not forget that at the end of the story the one who was crucified was raised also up to new life and opened the eyes of confused and grieving disciples with the breaking of bread. Because – what is impossible for mortals is always possible for the Lord – amen?
And this is precisely what a spirituality of the feast lets us experience and explore inwardly and outwardly: the radical, healing and transformative grace of God in action. The other night, when I was wide awake for some unknown reason at 1:45 in the morning, after rummaging through magazines and books that held no interest for me, I picked up this slim volume by M. Craig Barnes and read these words:
It is significant that Jesus does not hear God’s deep and eternal affirmation – “you are my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased” – until after he has identified with the human condition in baptism. This identification was so total and complete that we, too, must hear God saying these same words about us: we, too, are t
he beloved of God… and NOT because we have finally found a way to get our lives cleaned up, but because that is simply who we are to God: The beloved who belong to God… the lost who in Christ have been found.
Now listen carefully because this is important; Barnes goes on to say that this is the most important truth in all human life: “Until we hear this voice from heaven claiming that we are cherished by a God who is well-pleased with us, we will never be able to truly cherish anyone or believe that we are their beloved as well. We have to receive love in order to give it.”
And this doesn’t happen, dear people, through rules – or jumping through hoops – or memorizing intellectual doctrine or theology. It just doesn’t – and we all have our own lists of addictions and history with therapies and lovers and broken hearts and quitting jobs and superstitions to prove it. What’s more, we can’t create justice and peace in the world – or hope and integrity in our family – through rules and lists or guilt and shame either: it just doesn’t work. As they used to say, “You can’t give what you ain’t got.” And what we ain’t got all by ourselves is the inner awareness that we truly the beloved of God. This comes not by striving, but as a gift. A gift from the one who keeps inviting us with the words: “come unto me all ye who are tired and heavy laden and I will give you rest.”
• NOT pay attention and work hard and you will earn a rest.
• Nor pray every day, quit your cursing and get to church every Sunday and you will be rewarded with a rest.
No, just come to the feast and receive – take and eat – becau
se the rest Jesus promises is a gift and only those who know they are tired, hungry and empty seem ready to receive. You see, “from the beginning, we have been created to be receivers, not achievers – and nothing is more countercultural to contemporary Americans” (Barnes, p. 95) than receiving.
• We believe that if we just work hard enough things will be ok – and then we have an economic recession like this one – and all bets are off.
• We are certain that if we just try hard enough – with good technology and sincere effort and lots of money – the world can be changed for the good – and then we bump up against the war in Afghanistan and Iraq, where winning to saying nothing of peace remain elusive at best – and we sense something is terribly wrong but we don’t know exactly what.
• Feasting with God means living fully alive: awake and sensual – alert and attentive – to beauty and justice, body and soul, head and heart.
• It is a spirituality that trains us to live sacramentally – in the presence of God’s holy mystery while fully engaged in our ordinary or quotidian existence – from the word sacrament meaning “sacred feast.”
And feasting with God nourishes us with grace so that we become companions of compassion with friends, strangers and even our enemies. Remember how Psalm 23 puts it?
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou
art… with me, right? (companions, yes?)Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. (AND…) thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies… and anointest my head with oil; so that my cup over flows. Surely (as a companion of compassion) goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life… (so that WHAT?) I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
Think about those two words – companions and compassion – for just a moment because this is crucial:
• Companion comes from two Latin words: “cum, meaning “with,” and panis, meaning bread. So our companions are those with whom we share meals… and break bread.” Holly Whitcomb, Feasting with God, p. 1
• Compassion has its root in two 14th century French words – com, which means together, and pati which means to suffer – combined they become compassion – to share a companion’s pain or suffering. And isn’t that how we traditionally talk about Jesus – as one who shares our pain – as one who lives within and among us as a companion in compassion? Hebrews 12 in the New Testament puts it like this:
Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him by God, endured the pain of the cross, disregarding its shame and has now taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God in glory.
Feasting with God, you see, is a vital albeit neglected way of raising up disciples for Christ. It is undervalued, often mocked and usually considered inferior
to the higher paths of intellectual theology or dogma. But I have to tell you not only did Jesus spend more time opening up hearts by feasting with God, he also asked us to go and do likewise.• What do we say during Holy Communion? He took bread – and after giving thanks to God – he blessed it and broke and shared it with his disciples saying, “Take and eat, this is my body broken for you… Do this… (WHAT?)… as often as you gather in remembrance of me?
• Or how did the scripture that I read at the start of worship put it: Luke 24?
They came to the edge of the village… and Jesus acted as if he were going on but they pressed him: "Stay and have supper with us. Break bread with us for its nearly evening and the day is done." So he went in with them. And here is what happened: Jesus sat down at the table with them. And taking the bread, he blessed and broke and gave it to them. And in that moment, open-eyed, wide-eyed a
nd awakened, they recognized him… And they said, "Didn't we feel on fire as he conversed with us on the road and opened up the Scriptures for us?"Feasting with God is a time-tested, Christ-inspired way for training disciples that I sense is essential to recover in our generation. To my way of thinking, it is one of the ways God sets before us the path of life or death. Like Moses on his death bed, crying out to Israel before they crossed over the Jordan River into the Promised Land, the spirituality of the feast says to you and me:
I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the LORD your God, obeying him and holding fast to him. For this means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the LORD swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.
Am I making any sense here? For the next six weeks I want explore the spirituality of God’s feast with you so that we might become more lively, authentic and joy-filled disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because let’s be honest: being a disciple in the way of Jesus Christ is tough.
In this morning’s text he told the crowd: Following me into the grace of God is NOT a walk in the park… Anyone who comes to me but refuses to let go of father, mother, spouse, children, brothers, sisters—yes, even one's own self!—can't be my disciple. Same goes for anyone who won'
t shoulder his or her own cross and follow behind me: they can't be my disciples either! (Luke 14: 25-27)• Biblical scholars are divided about what is really being said here: some suggest that Jesus is telling us that unless we make a bold and conscious choice to leave everything behind – our wounds, our history, our ego and our possessions – we are choosing to follow other gods. Call them idols or addictions, one camp insists that discipleship means a very literal reading of this and related texts.
• Others – and I am more closely allied with this group – think that Jesus is actually telling us that choosing to be his disciple is actually impossible for us to do all by ourselves. As Peterson puts our text: Simply put, if you're not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can't be my disciple. (Luke 14: 33)
Do you appreciate this distinction? One way teaches a discipleship based on self-denial and discipline – this is a spirituality of rules – while the other says that only God’s grace can make us disciples. And here’s where it gets really interesting for me because this second path – this radical trust of God’s grace – tells us that while certain things – including discipleship – may be impossible for us, with God ALL things a
re now very possible and in the present tense, too.• “An old couple and a virgin,” writes preacher Brian Stoffregen “give birth to sons.” Tax collectors give away half their wealth.
• When John the Baptist worried whether Jesus was the one he was waiting for – the Messiah – Jesus told him to just look at what was taking place: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor hear the good news of God’s justice.
And let’s not forget that at the end of the story the one who was crucified was raised also up to new life and opened the eyes of confused and grieving disciples with the breaking of bread. Because – what is impossible for mortals is always possible for the Lord – amen?
And this is precisely what a spirituality of the feast lets us experience and explore inwardly and outwardly: the radical, healing and transformative grace of God in action. The other night, when I was wide awake for some unknown reason at 1:45 in the morning, after rummaging through magazines and books that held no interest for me, I picked up this slim volume by M. Craig Barnes and read these words:
It is significant that Jesus does not hear God’s deep and eternal affirmation – “you are my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased” – until after he has identified with the human condition in baptism. This identification was so total and complete that we, too, must hear God saying these same words about us: we, too, are t
he beloved of God… and NOT because we have finally found a way to get our lives cleaned up, but because that is simply who we are to God: The beloved who belong to God… the lost who in Christ have been found.Now listen carefully because this is important; Barnes goes on to say that this is the most important truth in all human life: “Until we hear this voice from heaven claiming that we are cherished by a God who is well-pleased with us, we will never be able to truly cherish anyone or believe that we are their beloved as well. We have to receive love in order to give it.”
And this doesn’t happen, dear people, through rules – or jumping through hoops – or memorizing intellectual doctrine or theology. It just doesn’t – and we all have our own lists of addictions and history with therapies and lovers and broken hearts and quitting jobs and superstitions to prove it. What’s more, we can’t create justice and peace in the world – or hope and integrity in our family – through rules and lists or guilt and shame either: it just doesn’t work. As they used to say, “You can’t give what you ain’t got.” And what we ain’t got all by ourselves is the inner awareness that we truly the beloved of God. This comes not by striving, but as a gift. A gift from the one who keeps inviting us with the words: “come unto me all ye who are tired and heavy laden and I will give you rest.”
• NOT pay attention and work hard and you will earn a rest.
• Nor pray every day, quit your cursing and get to church every Sunday and you will be rewarded with a rest.
No, just come to the feast and receive – take and eat – becau
se the rest Jesus promises is a gift and only those who know they are tired, hungry and empty seem ready to receive. You see, “from the beginning, we have been created to be receivers, not achievers – and nothing is more countercultural to contemporary Americans” (Barnes, p. 95) than receiving.• We believe that if we just work hard enough things will be ok – and then we have an economic recession like this one – and all bets are off.
• We are certain that if we just try hard enough – with good technology and sincere effort and lots of money – the world can be changed for the good – and then we bump up against the war in Afghanistan and Iraq, where winning to saying nothing of peace remain elusive at best – and we sense something is terribly wrong but we don’t know exactly what.
• Or we take care of our health – quit smoking years ago, regularly run and go to the gym, eat and drink in moderation – only to be told by our doctor that there seems to be something on our chest x-ray that needs a closer look.
Most Americans believe in karma – you get what you make – and we don’t know what to do when life doesn’t work out the way it should. Which means that we REALLY don’t know what to do God’s grace – that always comes as a gift not karma – or God’s love that says: YOU are my beloved just the way you are.
Barnes closes his chapter on Christ’s baptism with these words: Until we receive that gift – that love and rest – which comes by sheer grace (from God), we will spend the rest of our lives in the futile efforts of making our earthly parents well-pleased… For the human soul yearns most of all to be cherished by its Creator.
And in the Christian tradition this begins with an invitation to the feast: we can either accept or reject it – we can choose to receive or ignore it. But in a spirituality of the feast, the invitation always sets before us this day the way of life and death, blessings and curses. For it is the start of living into the gift of grace as God’s beloved…
Perhaps you will pray with me through this song?
After the haunting of the sadness
And the shadows pass away
There’s a gentle, healing madness
And a song that seems to say…
Rest awhile from all your labors
Let the evening come to pass
Hear the calling of your hearts
Grace is rising now at last
You wear your wounds upon your coat sleeve
You fear the worst is yet to come
And while you’re locked into this grieving
You miss the rising of the sun…
Rest awhile from all your labors
Let the evening come to pass
Hear the calling of your hearts
Grace is rising now at last
There’s a hunger here for beauty –
A yearning for the taste of bread
A cleansing of the Housatonic
And the rising of the dead
As the snow comes down from heaven
And the rain washes the earth
So God’s blessing will anoint us
As we journey towards rebirth
Rest awhile from all your labors
Let the evening come to pass
Hear the calling of your hearts
Grace is rising now at last
(Two years ago I wrote this song as a reflection on our new home – and now, with a minor revision in the bridge, it feels more like a call to God's feast.)
After the haunting of the sadness
And the shadows pass away
There’s a gentle, healing madness
And a song that seems to say…
Rest awhile from all your labors
Let the evening come to pass
Hear the calling of your hearts
Grace is rising now at last
You wear your wounds upon your coat sleeve
You fear the worst is yet to come
And while you’re locked into this grieving
You miss the rising of the sun…
Rest awhile from all your labors
Let the evening come to pass
Hear the calling of your hearts
Grace is rising now at last
There’s a hunger here for beauty –
A yearning for the taste of bread
A cleansing of the Housatonic
And the rising of the dead
As the snow comes down from heaven
And the rain washes the earth
So God’s blessing will anoint us
As we journey towards rebirth
Rest awhile from all your labors
Let the evening come to pass
Hear the calling of your hearts
Grace is rising now at last
(Two years ago I wrote this song as a reflection on our new home – and now, with a minor revision in the bridge, it feels more like a call to God's feast.)
credits:
1) Psalm 23 abstract @ www.artoflife.us/id139.html
2) Potentials @ www.potentials.ca/
4) Cartoon @ http://peatman.net/bert/?cat=11
5) With God... @ www.catholicsupply.com/churchs/bullfun.html
7) Open hands @ http://www.openhands.net/
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