Sermon on John 6:35-59

Sermon on John 6:35-59
Given 13 February 2022 at St. Alban’s Church, Coventry

Flesh and blood and bread. Today’s Gospel reading is pretty meaty, both literally and metaphorically. So how can we go about sinking our teeth into it? Okay, I’m done with the puns. But this is a really difficult passage to grapple with. Not only is there the constant repetition of bread and flesh and blood, but it could also be interpreted as a fairly exclusivist reading, suggesting that only those who partake in a eucharistic celebration are worthy of eternal life. But I suggest a different interpretation. Since we know that Jesus was a devout Jew, it doesn’t make sense that he would ever encourage people to drink blood as drinking blood is against Levitical law. And Jesus came to fulfill the law, not destroy it. So instead, I think the scholar Tom Wright was correct in his explanation that we drink the blood of Christ in that we profit from his death, his blood which was shed because of us. In our eucharistic prayers, it is said ‘this is my blood, which is shed for you’, so it is the death of Christ we remember. Christ saying ‘drink my blood’ could also be understood as him telling us ‘benefit from my death’, which we have done. We have benefitted because we have eternal life.

The reading begins with the first ‘I am’ statement in John’s Gospel, with Jesus saying ‘I am the bread of life.’ Last week Reverend Zoe talked to us about life, explaining that God came to give us abundant life without any conditions or restrictions, regardless of our faith or belief. She explained that healing can lead to a longer life, but that is not the life that God has planned for us. God has more than a mortal, temporary life planned for us, but an eternal life. I found her words so moving, and I’m sure those of you who know me won’t be surprised that I cried while listening to them. I cried thinking of all the prayers of healing I’ve said, and all the prayers I thought had been left unanswered when healing didn’t come. I cried because it was the first time I heard someone stand at the front of a church and proclaim that faith does not dictate healing, and a lack of healing does not mean a lack of faith. Nor does it mean God is absent or apathetic. You may be familiar with God’s three answers to prayer: Yes, no, and not yet. But there is another aspect of how God answers prayers. Sometimes God answers prayers in ways we could never imagine or understand. Sometimes we think we have an answer, but hindsight eventually tells us things weren’t quite what we thought. Because even in moments of our greatest sorrows, God is with us. And this is why the Psalmist says we shall continually praise God. Even when we don’t feel especially praiseworthy, our Creator continues to be with us and guide us.

Jesus saying he is the bread of life is a reminder that God nourishes and sustains us. In our moments of feeling empty with what the world has to offer, Jesus is with us to fulfill our needs. When we feel drained of all energy, Jesus can help us survive another day. Of course, at this point, I’m talking about spiritual hunger, so once again, this gets a bit complicated. Archbishop Desmond Tutu once said, ‘the Good News to a hungry person is bread.’ In this case, he was referring to physical, consumable bread to sustain physical life. If you are spiritually hungry, then Jesus saying ‘I am the bread of life’ gives you the sustenance you need spiritually. But how is it Good News to tell a hungry person Jesus is the bread of life and only offer our hopes and prayers? How can a hungry person see that God provides abundantly for all of creation?

I think the answer should be obvious. When we drink the blood of Christ, we become one with him. And in so doing, we become the Good News. Jesus didn’t only say, ‘I am the bread of life’, he also said ‘feed the hungry.’ It is not enough that we pray for God’s blessing, we must also be God’s blessing. 

But, there are a lot of hungry mouths to feed. And we are only human. So maybe it is asking too much. The thing is, you don’t have to save everyone, Jesus already did that. So if you can only help one person, or pick up one piece of litter, or write one letter to your MP, or give one homeless person a meal, or stop using electricity for one hour, or do any one simple thing, then you have saved something. You don’t have to make big gestures to be the Good News. It’s not about massive changes, it’s about setting an example. Because when someone sees you feed that homeless person, or pick up that litter, then they get an idea. And the next day they might feed another homeless person or pick up more litter. And maybe the one letter you wrote to your MP was the one that tipped them over the edge to do the right thing and become a voice for the voiceless. The Gospel is a movement and each of us can be the ripples to create a world-changing wave. We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us, and all it takes is one small act of kindness. 

In the Lord’s Prayer, we pray for our daily bread. Jesus, the bread of life is our daily bread. We also pray for the will of God to be done, and who else can do the will of God but those of us who feed on the daily bread. And as we go out, having been spiritually nourished, we can realise our prayer to bring the kingdom of God to earth. We can be the Good News on earth, and by our small actions help to bring all of creation back to being very good.

Sermon on Exodus 2:23-3:15; 4:10-17

Sermon on Exodus 2:23-3:15; 4:10-17
Given 03 October 2021 at St. Alban’s Coventry

Today is the first Sunday of Black History Month here in the UK, and I find it quite fitting that it coincides with the start of Exodus in our narrative lectionary series. Exodus tells us the story of a captive people who are liberated by their God. This was a revolutionary story a few centuries ago, one that was suppressed by many Christian slave owners. They would indoctrinate their slaves with the Gospel, focusing especially on themes of obedience, but leaving out anything that illustrated liberation or suggested God was for and of the oppressed and marginalised. These Christian slave owners could not chance letting their slaves know that God will hear your groaning and remember you. God will set you free, God will break your chains. 

I think it’s important to note that even today this is a revolutionary story. Although the African slave trade has been prohibited for several generations now, there are still many Black people living in chains in this country. In some cases, the chains are quite literal, with a larger proportion of Black people who are incarcerated compared to their white counterparts. In other cases, the chains are metaphorical, with examples of higher rates of mental and physical illnesses that have become more evident over the pandemic, and the racial prejudice that many Black people face, which has recently had a spotlight in the sports world, but is pervasive in everyday life. In today’s reading, we hear that God is I am, and in the Gospel reading Jesus says, ‘before Abraham was, I am.’ God, in using a form of the verb ‘to be’ relates that God is the source of all being, God is the source of all human beings. So when we attack our Black sisters and brothers, when we put them in chains physically, mentally, or emotionally, we attack ‘I am’. When we are silent in the face of oppression or persecution against our Black sisters and brothers, we turn away from ‘I am’. We turn away from God.

Turning away from God, going against God, or attacking God is something that we, as people of faith, generally ought not to do. But, as human beings, it seems almost inevitable. And perhaps the good news, or at least news that should alleviate a bit of our shame, is that we are in good company. Over the past few weeks, we’ve heard stories of the men who are described as the Patriarchs, or the founders of what is known as the Abrahamic religions – Abraham, Issac, Jacob, and now Moses. When Abraham thought that he would not have an heir as God had promised, he raped Hagar who gave birth to a son, Ishmael. Then, when his wife Sarah finally gave birth to the male heir, Issac, Abraham and Sarah banished Hagar and Ishmael to the desert, leaving them for dead if not for the blessing of God. Jacob, the son of Issac, along with his mother Rebekah deceitfully conned Issac into bestowing a blessing on Jacob. Jacob stole the blessing of his older brother, Esau. Today we meet Moses, who had fled to Midian because he murdered an Egyptian soldier. What’s more, when God directly gives Moses an order, Moses does all he can to attempt to get out of it, claiming he is a nobody, blaming his slow speech for his inability to lead. These Patriarchs are not models of faith and devotion. They are complicated, messy, challenging, imperfect human beings. They get some things right, and they get plenty of things wrong. They’re just like me or you. So why do we seem to hold them up when looking at the history of our faith?

In today’s reading, Moses asks, ‘who am I that I should go to Pharaoh?’ I think a lot of us can empathise with Moses here. Who am I that I should stand up and preach the Gospel? Who am I that I should lead a prayer group? Who am I that I should share my faith with others? Who am I that God should call me to fulfill any purpose in the Church or in life in general? And we get our answer in God’s response to Moses, ‘I will be with you’. The source of all being, the Creator of the universe and all that is in it will be with you. Who are you? You are a child of God. You are not perfect or uncomplicated, you’re not likely to be a model citizen. Just like the Patriarchs, you have baggage too. But God’s promises are not conditional, they do not depend on us always doing what is right. And we read these stories and remember these Patriarchs because God made a promise to them whether we think they deserved it or not. And that promise is for us too. The promise that God is with us and will provide for us. To be clear, that doesn’t get us off the hook completely. Yes, we will make mistakes, but we still need to strive to do our best. To follow the model of love that Jesus Christ provided for us. But we can work to do our best to see God in our neighbour, while also accepting that we need plenty of God’s grace for when we get things wrong.

Now although the Patriarchs got a lot wrong, a common theme over the past few weeks was their response to God. When God calls their name, the answer is ‘here I am.’ So in closing, here is the challenge to you. When God calls your name, when you are shown your purpose, how will you answer? 

Will you focus on your unworthiness? We have already established that the Patriarchs were not made worthy by their actions. Will you claim to be unable to fulfill God’s request? God provided Moses with his brother Aaron so that being slow of speech was no excuse. Will you blatantly run away from God’s call? The story of Jonah is quite the cautionary tale against that. Or will you simply accept that we are all complicated, messy, challenging, imperfect, but beloved children of God? When God calls, will you say, ‘here I am’?