Come and Feast
The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost ,
July 26, 2009
by The Reverend Diana Carroll
In the name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
about God’s power, and God’s abundant love for those gathered there and for all people.
Today’s reading from the letter to the Ephesians also has something to say about abundance, especially the abundance of God’s love. Paul writes to the believers in Ephesus, “I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”
As Paul describes it, the love of God in Christ is so abundantly vast that it is hard for us to even comprehend its dimensions: its breadth and length and height and depth. This love surpasses our ability even to know how abundant it is. And when we experience God’s love, it fills us up to fullness, just as the crowds on the hillside ate and were satisfied, ate until they were full.
Paul goes on to say that God “is able to accomplish abundantly far more than we can ask or imagine” … “by the power at work within us.” These words are familiar to those of us who say morning prayer here together during the week, because they come at the very end of the service. The translation is different, though: “Glory to God, whose power, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine: Glory to him from generation to generation in the church, and in Christ Jesus for ever and ever. Amen.”
One of our morning prayer leaders always has us read those lines together when it is her turn to lead. Every time she does, I find myself feeling inspired and encouraged for the day ahead,
knowing that God can and will work through me in ways I that I cannot “ask or imagine.”
God’s abundant love for us is enough and more than enough to nourish and sustain us through whatever work we are called to do.
We live in a society that enjoys a great deal of abundance, and yet we are often driven instead by a pervasive sense of scarcity, a fear that there will not be enough to go around, not just in terms of food and money and jobs, but also in terms of time and energy and opportunities. How often have you heard someone say, “I just don’t have the time”? How often have you said it yourself?
This sense of scarcity is everywhere, and it can lead us to feel as though we have to hold on tightly to whatever resources we have. It makes us fearful of the future and reluctant to share what we have with others. But God does not deal in scarcity. God deals in abundance. When the disciples were intimidated by the scarcity of their resources, Jesus responded with an abundance that was beyond their ability to ask or imagine. He showed them that there was no need to be afraid. No need to hold back from being generous with those around them.
This past week, I went to the dry cleaners to pick up one of our altar cloths: the white linen cloth that goes across the top of the altar. When I dropped it off a few weeks ago, I tried to explain to the woman in the shop what the cloth was and what it was for, and why I wanted her to roll it up on a cardboard poster roll to keep it from getting wrinkled, but I wasn’t sure she had really understood what I was saying. When I went back, the woman recognized me right away. (I think the collar may have had something to do with it.) As soon as I walked in, she said to me, “Ah, I know what you are here for. The big tablecloth.” I had to laugh. “That’s right,” I said. “That’s exactly what it is. A very big tablecloth for a very big table.”
It can be easy to forget sometimes, but at the center of our worship space there is a big table. And, although it sometimes gets buried under layers of liturgical formality, at the center of our worship together each week there is a meal: The Eucharist.
It is pretty hard to read John’s story about the abundant meal with the multitude, without being reminded of the eucharist in at least some way. Think about what Jesus does on the mountain. He takes the loaves of bread, gives thanks over them (the word in Greek is even euxaristw), presumably breaks them into pieces, and then shares them with those who are gathered together there.
Sound familiar? That’s the same thing he does at the Last Supper, gathered around the table with his closest friends. And it is also the same thing that we do each time we celebrate the eucharist together: We take, we give thanks, we break, and we share with one another.
Just in case he hasn’t made the connections clear enough, John follow the story of this abundant meal with Jesus’ description of himself as the Bread of Heaven, which we’ll be hearing read over the next four Sundays. John has taken this miracle story, familiar from the other gospel writers, and he has told it over again as a reflection on the eucharist, and on the way that this shared meal serves as a sign of God’s abundant love for us.
Each week when we share this sacred meal together, we are reminded of God’s abundance and encouraged to live our lives in a way that reflects that abundance. We are reminded that there will be enough and more than enough of whatever we need to sustain us in our walk with God and in our life together.
So come to the table. Come and feast. Come and taste and see the abundant love that God has for us, surpassing all that we can ask or imagine. Amen.
