June 18, 2006 At Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK
Exodus 24:3-8 + Hebrews 9:11-15 + Mark 14:12-16, 22-26
As a child, I loved Peanut Butter cookies: those cookies with the grid on the top from the fork mom used to press down the dough. In our house they were kept under lock and key. I could not control myself. If I came home from school and smelled them, I would not rest until I had found them which meant EAT THEM. ALL OF THEM! Mom would say: “If you keep that up, you’re going to turn into a Peanut Butter Cookie”. My mother was wise from life, but not a great theologian. Yet, as I earned a degree in theology, I began to realize how profoundly theological she was. In terms of cause and effect with a few other details added, she had it right. It is what we are doing here with our Communion. Consume the Word of God, Consume the Body of Christ in the context of the assembly’s celebration of the Eucharist, and you will likely become the Body of Christ, holy, precious in God’s sight, and be raised up on the last day.
Deep in the human heart embedded in the human psyche is a fear all of us know. It is the fear of being alone: the fear of abandonment. Sometimes I think this is one of the little clues of our divine origins since God’s own nature seems to abhor the same thing. So then comes creation and those words recorded in Genesis: “It is not good for man to be alone.” It isn’t good for God to be alone either.
The first spoken words in the New Testament are: “Fear Not.” Spoken over and over again by angelic messengers, the divine name at the Incarnation is “Immanuel” (God with us). The name Immanuel says it all. Final words at the Gospel’s conclusion last week: “I will be with you always until the end of the ages” open us to the wonder of the Eucharistic presence. This relationship we spoke of last week is not inaccessible.
Our greatest fear is set aside by this divine promise which we by faith recognize in the presence of Christ’s Body and Blood. While the wonder of the Eucharist ought not be reduced simply to a physical object, it does begin there with bread and wine. Relieved of that awful fear, we are free to become Eucharistic people who are capable, willing, and anxious to share in and fulfill the mission of Jesus Christ.
It’s as though we, paralyzed by fear, have been cured, restored, freed to get up and walk this world with the message and life of the gospel.
It starts however with the experience and the truth of God’s presence in these sacred and holy gifts. So simple, so accessible, so common, we run the constant risk of taking it for granted. Like bread on the table at home, we forget easily how essential it is. And so this feast comes each year to say to us: Look. Remember…….Take Care………Approach with fear and reverence. Bow your head……….. Be grateful………….. Bend your knee.
You are in the presence of the Lord your God.
There are on many occasions moments in life when words are totally inadequate.
I have experienced that in preparing this homily. What is there to say? How can we ever express what we believe here? I experience the inadequacy of words when I see people get up and go to the restroom during the Eucharistic prayer; when they stand ten feet from the tabernacle and chat as though they were in a coffee shop. When people stroll in here as casually as at a ball game, and grab communion on the run like the drive through at Sonic. The Body and Blood of Christ is what happens when God as nothing more to say and words are inadequate. The Body and Blood of Christ is what happens when there is nothing more to say, and Presence is all that matters. This gift, this symbol, this message is like that moment when as a child we fell down, skinned our knee, bumped our head, or fell off the bike, and Mom or Dad said nothing, but swept us up, gathered us close in a loving embrace and simply held us close to their heart.