“...and the seed would sprout and grow...”
(Mark 4:26)

Year B Proper 6
Ezekiel 17: 22-24
Psalm 92:1-4, 11-14
2 Corinthians 5:6-10, 14-17
Mark 4:26-34
Jan Robitscher
Trinity Parish
Seattle, WA
June 14, 2009

There are three things that make us Christians:
faith, baptism and sharing at the altar.
Guerric of Igny, Twelfth century.
Sourcebook on Baptism, p. 160)

In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

So here we are. The Great Fifty Days of Easter and its feasting are over. Last week you had your patronal festival of Trinity Sunday, the capstone of six months of tracing the life, death and resurrection of Jesus and the birthing of the church, I am sure it was all glorious! We are now at the beginning of the long, green season which is sometimes called “Ordinary Time”. Why green? Green is for the leaves of summer, and for the growth which, we hope, will happen during these months.

But this particular day is not ordinary. Today we celebrate two very special baptisms. Today Antonio and cousin Natalie, (great-grandchildren of Mary Alice Legge) will become friends of Jesus and we will adopt them as children of this community. In a way, we are “planting seeds”, and, over time, they will grow. Sometimes this growth will be noticeable, sometimes, as our lessons say, it will happen “we know not how”. Suddenly, they will be teenagers and then young adults. Hopefully, they will, as St. Paul says, grow up into the full stature of Christ.

Our readings today attest to this. The prophet Ezekiel speaks of God planting a special cedar tree.

“Under it every kind of bird will live... All the trees of the field
shall know that I am the LORD.”

And our Gospel lessons speaks a lot about seeds in two little parables: of a sower
scattering seed and noticing over time how the seed grows, he knows not how, and the Parable of the Mustard Seed. The tiny mustard seed (I have one on my bracelet) grows up into the largest shrub, providing branches “so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” Somehow, God seems to be about planting seeds and nurturing them as they grow. What can we learn from this?

Let's take these two Gospel parables and look at them closely. Remember that a parable is a story with one main teaching point--sort of a “one point sermon”. Jesus used parables a lot in his ministry as a way of describing, in ordinary, every-day terms, what the Kingdom of God--that time when God?s reign will be fully known among us. A parable today could be that the Kingdom of God is like one of those greeting cards that starts off “you know you are old when...” or maybe we could have one that said “you know you?re an Episcopalian when...” or a special baptismal card that says “You know you?re a friend of Jesus when...” The Kingdom of God, Jesus says, is like seeds growing secretly.

People in Jesus' time did not know the science, as we do now, of how seeds grow. They only knew that if you planted seeds and tended them, watered and fertilized them, you would wake up one morning and wow!--suddenly they would be tall stalks of wheat or barley, or tall date-palm or olive trees. That?s what the Kingdom of God is like. We plant the seeds of loving God and each other and we trust that, while we are sleeping or going about our daily tasks, one day God?s Kingdom will become fully known to us and all things will come to their fulfillment in Jesus, by the power of the Holy Spirit. So, our special baptismal greeting card would say: you will know the Kingdom of God has come when the seeds of God?s love you planted at baptism have , with God?s help, taken root and grown up inside you, even if you don't see it happen.

There are three things that make us Christians:
faith, baptism and sharing at the altar.

And from even the tiniest mustard seed, the largest shrub grows, giving shelter to birds and other animals in its shade. So with our faith--even the tiniest faith--grows to embrace God and all those around us, so that we love as Jesus loved, giving shelter to all who are in need and welcoming all who, as Jesus did, come to the waters of baptism in faith.

But how do we plant the seeds? Remember, these seeds are not annuals. They are perennials and so they only get planted once. Baptism--our once and for all incorporation into the Body of Christ--is the way we Christians plant our seeds. As the early Christian writer put it, “Christians are made, not born.” Permit me to speak as a liturgist for just a moment.

From its beginnings at Jesus'own baptism, which was the inauguration of his public ministry, those desiring to becomes friends of Jesus have done as Jesus did, entered the waters in a wonderful participation in Jesus' death for us and his resurrection to new life. In the beginning, these were mostly adults. But by the 4th century, after Christianity became legal (and therefore public) several generations might be baptized at the same time, including young children. Infant baptism did not become common until about the 7th century--but that's another sermon!

Back to our seeds. Once the seeds are planted, whether they the
seeds growing secretly or the tiny mustard seed or our special “baptismal seeds”, they must be nurtured by God, who sends good weather and rain, and also by the plant food and other tending given by the gardener sent by God?s Holy Spirit. In other words, the seed, once planted, gives itself up to God's care and the farmer appointed by the Holy Spirit, in order to grow.

So it is with our “baptismal seeds”. Once a person is baptized, whether an infant with parents and godparents making promises on their behalf, a young child (or two) or an adult making their own profession of faith, the circle of care-takers becomes much larger. The African adage “It takes a village to raise a child” applies here. In effect, we all become the adoptive parents and godparents of those being baptized. Or, as St. Paul says:

What then is Apollos? What then is Paul? Servants through whom you came to believe,
as the Lord assigned to each. I [Paul] planted,
Apolos watered, but God gave the growth.
(1 Cor. 2:5ff)
+ + +

There are three things that make us Christians:
faith, baptism and sharing at the altar.

But baptism does not exist by itself in the Christian life. It is accompanied by the anointing with oil and the words, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ's own for ever.”, the giving of a candle (Receive the Light of CHrist. Now you be the light of the world.) and then we celebrate the Eucharist together. It is in Communion, that Jesus gives himself to us in a very special way through bread and wine. This is the repeatable, ongoing part of baptism. Like plant food for our seeds, so is the Eucharist, the “sharing in the altar” as our Medieval friend Guerric says, for our “baptismal seeds”; food for our journey, Christ's very self with us so that we become “little Christs”--Christians--carrying him out into the world. So every time we receive Communion we recall our baptism, whether or not we can remember the actual event.

Jesus said,I am the true vine and my Father is the
winegrower... abide in me as I abide in you.
My Father is glorified in this, that you bear
much fruit.
(Jn. 15:1ff, 8)

So let's plant some seeds--real seeds and baptismal seeds! Let's help Antonio and Natalie become friends of Jesus and welcome them into the Body of Christ. Let's take seriously the promises we make to nurture these special children, these “baptismal seeds”, to help them grow in faith, hope and love. And let?s continue to come, week by week, to receive Jesus, food for our journey, so that we, too, as St. Paul says, may grow into the full stature of Christ.

“The bread that I shall give for he life of the world
is my flesh.”[1]
(Jn. 6:51)


Year B Proper 14
Deut. 8:1-10
Psalm 34:1-8
Eph. 4: (25-29) 30-5:2
John 6:37-51ff

Jan Robitscher
Church of the Redeemer
San Rafael, CA
August 13, 2006

O lead my blindness by the hand
Lead me to my familiar Feast
Not here or now to understand,
Yet even here and now to taste,
How the eternal Word of heaven
On earth in broken bread is given.[2]
William Ewart Gladstone
Nineteenth Century

In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Every preacher has a sermon with a capital “S”--a theme which returns again and again, though in different ways, like facets in a prism. While the Sermon (capital S) might be a passionately favorite topic of the preacher, it is not always easy. So today, God has given it to me to preach on one of the most difficult passages of Scripture. You see, it’s easy to preach on a lesson that tells a story or sings a Psalm. But when we enter the scene right at the climax of Jesus’ “sermon” on the day after the feeding of the five thousand, and hear him saying “The bread that I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh”[3] we suddenly wonder if the Gospel writer got it right--or even whether Jesus has taken leave of his senses! Today I hope to leave you with the assurance that John indeed got it right and that Jesus meant what he said in this passage and in the even harder verses which follows it.
For the bread that I shall give for the life
of the world is my flesh.

It starts small. I’ve been thinking about friendship--how it forms and what things sustain it. Suddenly I realized that, at one time or another, I have shared a meal with every close friend I have. Your vicar, Carol can attest to this. We first met briefly while she was working at Guide Dogs (where, indecently, she probably knew “Christmas” as a puppy). When she came to seminary, near where I live, we became friends and often shared cup of coffee or hot chocolate at Brewed Awakening. Then lunch and conversation in the Refectory. Then I invited her to tea at my home. And, of course, we attended seminary Chapel almost daily together. Always, there was bread of one kind or another. We literally became companions--ones who share the bread.

Just after I met Carol, I began to teach at the School for Deacons. Because the diaconal call and ministry are bound up in proclaiming the Good News to, praying for and serving the marginalized, not a class session weekend would go by without being at a Eucharist and hearing of and praying for the needs of the world: “For the poor, the sick, the hungry and those who suffer...for prisoners, captives and all who are in danger...”[4] And about this same time, I began to help with Hot Meals for the Homeless at St. Mark’s in Berkeley. “Friend” became “Friends” in a larger way, and I began to understand what Jesus meant when he said:
The bread that I shall give for the life
of the world is my flesh.

Receiving Communion is more than just the “me and Jesus” experience most of us had in our childhood when we went to church. We don’t have to read far in the headlines to see a world so badly in need of the life for which Jesus died: the tragic fighting in the Middle East, starvation and AIDS in Africa and here, poverty, homelessness, crime, global warming and the Anglican Communion, so badly divided. And we don’t have to look far in this room to be aware of each other and know each others’ needs. Communion and Community come from the same root. When Jesus gives himself to us, we become his Body, and we are expected to give ourselves to others--friends and enemies, near and far--in his Name.

Now if only I could stop here! If only I could wind up this nice Social Gospel sermon to and sit down. But it goes on and gets harder. Jesus’ identification of himself with the bread must have shocked his hearers. After all, Jewish law forbade the eating of food not completely drained of blood and, though there were some abuses of the sacrificial system, cannibalism was unthinkable. Even so, Jesus’ hearers would have understood his words literally--and they would have heard in them deeper meanings that our English translations can impart. For to Jewish and early Christian ears, the words “flesh” and “blood” meant far more than the physical (and separate) parts of the body we know. “Flesh” meant one’s whole person: body, soul, mind and spirit. “Blood” meant the very essence of life itself.

But knowing this did not keep Jesus hearers from disputing among themselves saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” For centuries to come, the Church debated the question in an attempt to explain this bread-become-the Body of Christ. Actually, those Medieval theologians got a bad press, but perhaps it was Queen Elizabeth I who said it best when she came up with an Anglican “Middle Way” of explaining the mystery:
It was the Word that spake it.
He took the bread and brake it,
And what his word doth make it,
That I believe and take it.[5]

And the debate goes on today. Only now scholars don’t debate HOW the bread becomes the Body of Christ, but WHETHER it does. They spiritualize the passage and say that Jesus didn’t really mean those words. Jesus answered the dispute not by explaining HOW his flesh and blood would “get into” the bread and cup, nor did he brush the whole thing aside as an empty symbol. Rather, he impressed upon them that if they wanted life at all--life with any meaning--life for the world--they would have to partake of the Lord of Life, himself. And he speaks to us too. He promised that whoever gathered in his Name to celebrate the mystery of his death and resurrection would find him--all of him-- present in bread and wine. To receive Communion (or, as the Gospel says, when we partake of Jesus’ flesh and blood) is literally to become one with Jesus and to have Jesus become one with us. And it is to become companions in the deepest sense--those who share the Bread that Jesus gives.

What difference should this make in our lives? Communion gives us strength for our individual journeys. It will help me entrust my beloved “Christmas” to Carol today and it will help her entrust me to receive a new dog tomorrow and train with it for the next three weeks and then to let us loose on the world beyond. And I’m sure each of you needs Jesus’ strength for your journey, too.

But it also gives us a different world-view. It helps us pray “for the life of the world” and enlarge our definition of “Friend”. It helps us see where help is needed and energizes us to (as St. Teresa puts it, “Be Christ’s eyes and hands and feet in the world”. It helps us grow as a community, both in our love for one another and in our desire to bring more people here. In receiving Communion, we ask to see everything through Jesus’ eyes. But that’s not all. In a world filled with terrorism and war and the rumors of war, Jesus gives himeslf to us so that we can know that our ultimate safety is found only in God. This is what the Prayer Book Catechism means when it says:
The benefits we receive [from the Eucharist] are
the forgiveness of our sins, the strengthening of
our union with Christ and one another, and the
foretaste of the heavenly banquet which is our
nourishment in eternal life.[6]

In the end, though, the Eucharist is larger than our individual or even our corporate journeys. Eucharist means “thanksgiving” and is the way Jesus gave us of remembering--literally re-membering--in thanksgiving his life, death and resurrection--his supreme act of love for us.

So I invite you to come to this Table. Come prepared by reconciling yourself to God and your neighbors. Come longing to receive the whole Person of Jesus. Most of all, come in thanksgiving for his love. Then be willing to carry Jesus from this place into the world for which he gave his life and for which he rose again. Perhaps the great liturgist Balthazar Fischer said it best:

The table awaits us at which our baptismal life is fed
over and over again. We have every reason to cry out
in gratitude: Alleluia, alleluia![7]

[1] This sermon is adapted from one I preached in September, 1985.
[2] A Eucharist Sourcebook, p. 25
[3] Italics mine.
[4] Compiled from Prayers of the People, Book of Common Prayer.
[5] Norman Fox, Christ in the Daily Bread <> Quatrain attributed to Queen Elizabeth I.
[6] An Outline of the Faith, Book of Common Prayer, pp. 859-860.
[7] Balthasar Fischer, from A Eucharist Sourcebook, p. 39.