August 2, 2009 Sermon

Fresh Every Morning Exodus16:2-4, 9-15 John 6:24-35 Lawrence Jackman

The story of manna from heaven is a great one. It is a bit longer than what we usually read or tell. Part of what we do not say is really an interesting twist. The people are out there whining and complaining. “Our bellies are empty”. “Moses, you idiot, you brought us out here in the wilderness to starve to death. What were you thinking?”

So bread comes from heaven. We are going to eat and not starve. Like the dew it drops on the ground in the morning. But there is a catch. You are supposed to go out and pick up a day’s provisions. You have been hungry. That has gone on for some time. Now there is food all over the place and the instruction to only take a day’s worth.

Folks being folks, they go out and pick up a day and a half, maybe two days worth of the manna. And the stuff turns rotten. The incredibly simple lesson being, “you can not store up God’s grace. There is enough to be sustained throughout a day, but that is it.”

If you try to hold onto yesterday’s grace you end up with a pretty stinky mess.

All relationships are designed to be “dynamic” that is alive and filled with all the stuff that life is full of. Relationship is meant to be in a kind of constant state of change and perhaps even evolution. Relationship is meant to grow.

I couldn’t love my grandchildren any more than the day I first held them. It is the same me and the same them now as it was then. But the expressions of that love, the qualities it has, and outward appearance has changed mightily and will change in the future. So, what makes us think that a relationship with God isn’t something like that. God loves you just like the day your first met. The quality of that Divine love, the outward appearance and the expression has doubtless changed.

That is what dynamic means—growing, changing and moving. That is what relationships are—dynamic. And yet…….yet, we try always to make things static. We try to create relational realities that maintain, that are constant, that are always working the same way that they did in the past. And we end up with a rotten mess. Even our attempt to make things static does not deny the reality that things will change no matter what. The critical issue is will they change for the better or will they turn “foul”?

So the static versus dynamic tension acts itself out in our religious lives again and again. We have a book of writings. We refer to it as the Bible. Individual pieces of that book are very difficult to avoid as calling out parts of who and what we are for attention. Most pieces of the book require work to glean understanding. Lots of parts of the Bible are nearly impossible to extract anything from.

The gift of the Book is a dynamic one. That means we need to live in relationship with it and see it as a sort of living reality. It changes, it moves, it expresses itself differently as we evolve with it. So we can’t just sit with a book and a concordance ready to look up the definitive answer to something. It is not a phone book. And even a phone book is somewhat dynamic.

I think that means, if you don’t ever talk about the Bible, read it, or talk it through with others; please just be quiet about it. You confuse others into thinking this is a static gift and then they can’t find the answers to moving questions and issues.

We attempt to serve static faith when we decide that ideas are more important than the realities toward which they point.

I was in the church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. In the middle of a large cavern of a room stands a stone structure. It is revered as the burial place of Jesus. An orthodox priest guides pilgrims through the storage building sized tomb. He shows us exactly where Jesus was laid. He has an answer for every question and offers candles for sale which you can light as a sort of prayer ritual.

After taking the tour, I walked to the back of this little structure. In the darkness there was a little Byzantine monk in very humble attire. He beckoned me over to where he squatted. Reaching under his outer garment he brought a treasure out for me to see. It was a plain piece of rock—like 10,000 others I could have picked up that day. To him it was a jewel, a treasure and a mystery. In badly broken English he explained, “I have a piece of the real tomb.” He didn’t want to sell it to me, he just wanted me to share in his joy in this limestone gem. I touched his treasure and we shared his mystery.

One tomb was static and one was alive.

We try to make the faith static by devoting ourselves to theology. I was engaged in a discussion with some non Presbyterian folks and another Presby pastor not long ago. The conversation moved somehow toward how Presbyterians might treat a baptism of an infant who was at risk of dying. The non Presbyterians wanted to call that an emergency baptism. My colleague began to intone, “you must remember that in Reformed theology there is no such thing as an emergency baptism.” “The questions you should be asking the family are…” Then there were a short list of questions about religious perspective and belief about things.

That is the sort of response that makes me want to choke the life out of the next person who talks about Reformed Theology as though it is something to be served. There is only one question of substance in that case and it is, “Where is the water?”

Talking about God (even in Reformed Theology terms and thoughts) does not substitute for living with God. Nothing wrong with theology, as long as you remember it has limits. I think I can be tried for heresy for thoughts as benign as these. I’m good with that.

If you truly believe that the faith is dynamic, then you can move rather quickly to the truth that needs an expression today. Our denomination struggled mightily in the 20’s, 30’s and 40’s of the last century to get to the point where we could recognize women and ordain them to elder roles and minister roles. We had to move so many pieces of static stuff and put it in new places in our rigid systems. Eventually we got it done.

How much easier it was for the Pentecostals! They see the faith as moving and changing and alive. They see it as dynamic. All you have to do is watch them worship to know that in a dramatic way. I can’t quite get there with them, but I sure can appreciate what they are doing. One step for them from a male exclusive club of clergy and other church leaders to an inclusive group. Someone observed, “The spirit seems to be active in Sister Margaret.” Sister became clergy. Point to point when you actually believe that the faith is dynamic and alive.

Now if I have only one point/application to suggest today it is this. Communion is an expression of a dynamic faith—one that wants to be alive.

Many of you, like me, were raised on the thoughts of Ulrich Zwingli. His ideas made a lot of sense in the context of the 1500s. He taught us that the Lord’s Supper was a memorial service. We bought it. We carved the words “In Remembrance of Me” a million times in communion tables.

For the past thirty to forty years the sacrament has labored toward becoming alive again.
“This is the joyful feast of the people of God.” It is not static nor is anything else that matters in this world. It is alive and charged with change and the promise of change. It is a celebration of one of life’s primal dramas. Lets not serve it up in somber sadness. Rather let us partake and eat and celebrate like a people in love with their God and with each other.

This is the manna God offers to us this morning. Take and eat.