Never alone.


Proper 16B


In the name of God who leads us and unites us.  Amen.

The Sunday that Michael and I were in Mississippi, it just so happened to be the day that the new Bishop of the Diocese of Mississippi was visiting my parents’ parish.  She’d just been ordained a week or two before that, so it was one of her first visitations as bishop.  Of course, after the service, we waited in line to greet her at the church door, and I introduced us and told her that I was priest in the Diocese of Newark.  You could see her wheels turn for just a second, before a genuine smile broke out across her face and she exclaimed “Carlye’s people!” and quickly hugged me and Michael.

It was one of those moments that really highlights, in a tangible way, the gift that it is to be a part of a church family that’s bigger than any one of us.  Despite the fact that every diocese and every parish each have their own charisms, I could go into that church that Sunday morning and be at home.  I could generally know what I was doing and what was going on.  And when I met that Bishop, the relationships that we share made us instantly a part of this bigger family.

Connections like that – and the relationships grown out of those connections – are such a critical part of what it means to be a part of a Christian community, and what it means to be the church.  It made me appreciate all over again this big Episcopal family of ours.

In the gospel lesson today, there’s talk of bread again.  The fifth week in a row.  But today it wasn’t the bread, itself, that got my attention.  It was the connectional structure that Jesus described.  The bread plays an important part of that – but it’s not about the bread.  It’s about the connections.

Just as God the creator sent Jesus, so now we are connected with God through Christ.

It reminds me of Hands Across America from the 80s.  Do you remember that?

It was a fundraiser for homelessness and poverty, but the gimmick was this plan to create a human chain, holding hands, literally across the entire country.  In the end, I don’t think the human chain part was successful, even though the fundraising was.  There were some breaks in the chain.  But the point was made even so: we are all connected to one another.  Even if we can’t see each other, even if we never meet, we are connected under this sky and in this experience.  So, look out for each other.  Help each other where we can.

It's a message we could use again today.  With the ways that political polarization has ravaged the idea of connectedness across communities, we’d be wise to remember that we are connected.  We are bound to one another under this same sky, with these same experiences.

That’s a huge part of what our faith teaches us.  Jesus draws these lines of relationship to show us that we’re connected.  And through Christ, that we’re connected not just to God but to each other.

Just about everything in our worship works together to try to drive this point home.  When we sing and recite Psalms together, we are united not just in our words, but when we do it best, we’re united in our breathing.  In and out together as the word of God is shared.  When we pass the peace, we are reminded that we’re united in our community.  Through handshakes and waves, hugs and kind words, we honor the truth that we’re more than just individuals wandering aimlessly – we are a community journeying together.

And finally at the table – yes, back to the bread – in the Holy Eucharist we are united in our common effort at worship together here in this room, but also with countless other Christians around the world, and even more throughout time.

God had union with Jesus.  Jesus had union with his followers.  And each of them passed the faith around to the people they knew, and down through the centuries in an unflinching line of succession and union all the way to us, here in this room.

We call the Holy Eucharist “communion” for a reason.  It is about that common thing – that thing we hold in union with one another.  It is about the sharing we do together, and throughout the faith, in a way that lives even beyond time and space.

As hard as it may have been to hear about and reflect on bread for these five weeks – as hard as it may have been to keep it fresh, it is true that Jesus’ centuries old, early metaphor still resonates today.  It still feeds us, both as a metaphor and literally in our worship.

I’ve said it a thousand times and I’ll say it again – you can worship God alone, but it takes community to be Christian.  We need each other.  We need shared experiences and shared relationships.  We need to breathe together.  We need to share bread and wine.  That’s what unites us to one another and to all Christians, past, present, and yet to come.  And most importantly, it’s a physical thing that unites us to Jesus – the physical being of God in our midst.

It's a powerful thing.  Connections are powerful.

A hug from someone who would otherwise be a stranger.

A breath.  And a song.  And a handshake of peace.

A bite of bread and a sip of wine.

And just like that we’re there.  We’re once again in the arms of Jesus.  We are connected.  For now and for ever.  Amen.

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