Sermon date (title)

It is a dark and cloudy night. There is no sign of moon or stars. The lonely traveler makes his way towards the large and gabled house in the distance, the only house where he can still see some lights on. He is desperate, so he climbs up the stairs and knocks on the door. After a long wait, someone answers the door. A butler’s cold voice says, “Come in.”

The traveler feels a mysterious chill run up and down his spine as he enters the great dining hall in the home. He sees the austere and cold beauty of the place. He struggles to carry his burden, fearful to set it down in this forbidding place. There is a long table before him, and a few silent guests are seated around the table.

On the table is a meal, and he feels the icy eyes of the butler as he gazes at the food before him. In the background, he hears strange music and unexpected thumps. He wonders if it will be safe to eat, but he is hungry and this is all that is offered….

So begin so many mysteries. The scene is set, and we hunker down in our chair to read on, or we turn up the volume a bit so as not to miss a word from the television screen before us. We are pretty sure someone here is about to die….

However, the mystery of which Paul speaks is not a mystery that will be solved in sixty minutes or the time it takes to read a novel. Paul writes, “Behold, I tell you a mystery.” Paul’s mystery is about death. But it’s also about life. And most especially it is about change.

As I offer pastoral care here at First Church, I run into this mystery all the time.

In fact, it seems to be in the wounds of life that the places of mysterious transformation seem most often to occur. As John Mogabgab pointed out, our lives are indeed “peppered with strife,” but they are also “salted with goodness.”[1]

In this season of the year, which the church calls Epiphany, we think about some other travelers and the amazing insight they found as they traveled, following a star. Apparently the three Wise Men traveled in a world that included some dark and cloudy nights as well as star-filled nights, for at one point they had to go and inquire for directions. But their travels finally led them to a place where they encountered the Son of God.

For the Wise Men, the star served as their treasure map, their pathway to the holy mystery. Our treasure map is called “The Means of Grace,” which are all the different pathways that God offers us in our search for a moment with God. The means of grace include such things as prayer, worship, music, fasting, and participating in Holy Communion. Actually, the list is much longer than this; there are many pathways into God’s presence.

But one of the most consistent and reliable means of grace, instituted by Jesus Christ, is Holy Communion. Beginning soon, our church will be increasing the frequency with which we celebrate Holy Communion at our 9:30 and 11:00 worship services.

The United Methodist Church recently published a new study called “This Holy Mystery.” It is a study of communion, and about changes in our United Methodist Church’s understanding of communion, changes that take us closer to what Jesus taught and the early church practiced. One of the key teachings of this document is the importance of frequent communion for all of us.

The reason we need to partake more frequently is because we need the nourishment that the sacrament provides. It is a nourishment that comes from remembering, receiving grace, and being transformed into the body of Christ.

When we take communion, we are remembering in a special way, a way which theologians call “anamnesis.” Anamnesis means remembering the past as though it were happening at this very moment. In a way, we are trying to remember our cumulative experience of God throughout the centuries, and especially our experience of Jesus Christ.

We are also remembering our personal experiences of God’s love. We are trying to allow all those experiences to be so real to us in this moment, that we can be changed by the same power that was in them at the moment they happened the first time.

This is the type of remembering we hope for at communion. But we can’t make this type of remembering happen, we can only prepare for it and be open to receiving it.

A mother mouse is taking her two small mice out for a walk. As they go, she sees a cat approaching. They are caught out in the middle of the room. There seems to be no easy escape route. Anxious to save her family, the mother mouse stands on her hind legs, musters all her strength, opens her mouth and roars loudly, “Bow-wow!” The cat is caught by surprise and runs away. As the cat leaves, the mother mouse turns to her babies and tells them, “You see children, it pays to learn a second language.”[2]

And as we experience the presence of God, we may find ourselves wanting to share what we have found with others.

Our granddaughter Evelyn, at 17 months, is busily acquiring a few language skills. She does lots of jabbering that seems to hold meaning for her but which we cannot usually decipher. However, she has become more and more interested in talking the same language as the rest of us. Not too long ago she broke the code for the word “cookie,” and now she often gazes up at us and sweetly chimes “coo-kie” in a way that melts your heart. You can guess how we respond.

Her regular babysitter has a little boy named Billy who is just weeks younger than she. Since she has discovered the power of this new word to bring actual, tangible results, she has been seen trying hard to share this experience with Billy. Evelyn sits beside Billy on the floor and says to him repeatedly “coo-kie…cookie.” Finally, Billy gets the idea and echoes her word. What can you do but hand over the goods to both of them? Thus, the mystery is shared.

John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, took communion several times each week. He did it because he felt that it was God’s command to us, to take it as often as we could. He believed that communion offered forgiveness, thanksgiving, transformation, and more. Like Evelyn, he was eager to share the mystery; in 1787 he preached a sermon called “The Duty of Constant Communion.”

How will this monthly communion work, in practical terms? What will we do? For Jacob, it was a matter of laying his head against a rock. For Moses, it was taking off his shoes to approach a burning bush. For the Wise Men, it was following a star.

It is always good to have a little bit of background. Last week, Gary and I went grocery shopping together, an event which doesn’t happen too often anymore but sometimes results in unusual purchases. Last week we spied a display of pomegranates. Now, neither of us were raised in homes where pomegranates were eaten, but it looked good, so we bought it. Yesterday, we decided it was time to eat it. How hard could it be?

So I laid it on a plate, got out a large knife, and cut the thing in half. I was surprised to see that the entire fruit consisted mainly of lots of seeds, and that a lot of juice came out, deep purple juice. I think it was the juice that gave me the idea to treat it like an orange, and try to squeeze out the juice. Don’t do this at home! Purple juice splattered everywhere! It seemed that each seed was bursting with juice waiting for its opportunity to escape! There were mini-explosions of deep purple juice splattered on counters, cupboards, tile and on me!

After cleaning up my kitchen, I decided to look in my How to Cook Everything book, where I read: “Pomegranate: Certainly among the strangest and most cumbersome of the fruits we eat, a labyrinth of seeds wrapped in fruit, buried in a mass of inedible flesh surrounded by a tough skin.” Here’s the key: “To ‘eat’ you suck or chew on the seeds… .” [3] Sometimes it pays to read the cookbook first.

So here is the cookbook version of what we are planning to do two weeks from today: Depending on the service, there may be stations for you to receive communion at the front, some in the back, some in the balcony, and one in the chancel for the choir. Ushers will help you to know where to go as you leave your pew.

As you wait in your pew to be directed toward a station, it’s a good time to prepare yourself. You might wish to spend time remembering God’s love toward you and all of us, focusing on specific events. You may also wish to use the time to talk over with God the places in your life where there is pain.

The pain may have to do with the way someone else has hurt you.
Or it may have to do with something that you have done to hurt someone else.

The theologian Moltmann once said that the judgment each of us faces for our sins happens in the moment when we fully realize the pain we have caused to someone else. If there is some pain or sin you need to face, talk it over with God. It’s even better to do this type of chat every day.

But don’t forget: The good news is that Christ died for our sins, and offers us forgiveness in the same way that he offered it to those who were crucifying him, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” We can freely accept the gift of forgiveness and grace that Christ offers.

Are we worthy to participate in this mystery? No. Neither were Jacob or Moses or Paul or the wise men, but all of them followed God’s call anyway. And Wesley said in his sermon that the most important thing for us to remember in receiving Holy Communion was simply to do it, since it is the command of Christ.[4]

As you reach the station, break off a piece of bread large enough so that you can dip just a corner into the cup. As you receive the elements, the server will often say some word of blessing. A really good way to respond is simply to say “Amen,” adding your assent to their prayer for you.

When you return to your pew, use the time to sit silently; opening yourself to God’s presence. You may be surprised to learn that in pursing this mystery, what you have found is your own deepest reality. Let your time with God soak in, like a bit of dust floating in some unexpected sunlight…… Bask in the mystery of grace.

It was a dark and cloudy night. The lonely traveler makes his way towards the large house in the distance, the house with a tall steeple. It’s the only house where he can still see some lights. He is desperate, so he climbs up the stairs and knocks on the door. Someone answers the door and says, “Come in.”

The traveler feels a mysterious chill run up and down his spine as he enters the great dining hall in the home. But it is not a chill of fear, but a chill of mysterious awe, for he has stumbled into the house of God.

And someone is offering to hold his burden for him. And someone is smiling at him and listening to him and making room for him at the table. And on the table is a feast, truly a mysterious feast.

And the traveler is me, and the traveler is you. And we turn around and other travelers are waiting to eat, as well. And we know there is enough for all, and we say to each other, “Come on in.”

And we begin to eat together. And we are changed. And we are changing. And somewhere a trumpet is sounding, and what is dead in us is arising to new life. Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord, O My Soul.

[1] Mogabgab, John S., “Editor’s Introduction,” Weavings (Vol. 21, No. 1, January 2006) 3.

[2] Quoted by Rev. Richard Dake in a Sermon called “The Plus of Not Knowing,” Nov. 27, 2005, from a sermon “You Better Watch Out!” by Rev. Ben “Benchuck” Manning.

[3] Bittman, Mark. How to Cook Everything: Simple Recipes for Great Food (New York: Macmillan USA, 1998) 645.

[4] Wesley, John. “The Duty of Constant Communion” 1787 as printed in John Wesley’s Sermons: An Anthology, Albert C. Outler and Richard P. Heitzenrater, ed. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1991) 502-510.