8 May 2011

“What feast of love”
Luke 24:13-35
2 Easter A
8 May 2011


“When Jesus was at table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him …”

As we come to this feast of love this morning, how would Jesus open our eyes, to recognize him, and his presence, for and with us?

Perhaps we come tired. Worn out by the events of the week, family situations, or just a miserable Seattle winter. We feel spent, having given it all we can, running on empty.
So here, in this feast of love, Jesus meets us with food for the journey of our lives. In the bread and wine, he says, he promises, “I am with you.” Our Savior who walks alongside us through the tiring, exhausting stuff of this life. Indeed, one who carries us through it when we’re too tired to move.
Here he is. Come and eat and drink.

Maybe we don’t feel worthy to be here. Perhaps we’re carrying around baggage … invisible to others around us … but there they are, suitcases full of guilt and shame, guilt over what we’ve done in the past, how we’ve lived our lives in the past … shame over things that happened to us or are still happening, things over which we may have little or no control, but they’re still there, burdening us, weighing us down.
So here, in this feast of love, Jesus meets us and says, “Here. I’ll take your bags. Come and dine with me, and I will give you a new, fresh start on life. All that was in the past, is past … this is a meal of looking ahead, to what will be, and remember, I am with you always.”
Here he is. Come and eat and drink.

We come with anger. Anger at big, “out there” others which, who we feel are making life miserable for us. Government, presidents, big corporations, politicians. Anger at closer, more personal others … family, parents, friends, boss, co-worker, children. Anger at God … “why did this have to happen to me???”
So here, in this feast of love, Jesus meets us and takes our anger. We come, sulking, pouting, withdrawn, detached, yelling and screaming, even pounding and beating, and he’ll take it. And keep on taking it. He’ll show us his nail-scarred hands, and feet, and side, and say, honestly, truthfully, “I know your pain. I took it to the cross with me, so that it would die there. Now let me show you what I and my Father intend for life … for your life … full, rich, abundant. This is a foretaste of the feast to come.”
Here he is. Come and eat and drink.

We come in fear. We have big fears … what is happening in the world around us … our nation, our state, our city or neighborhood? We have closer in fears … which are just as real to us … will I keep my job? What is happening to my family? I don’t feel as well as I used to … is something wrong?
So here, in this feast of love, Jesus meets us and says, “I know your fears. I have heard them, and I have lived in them … deeply, most dark. And I want you to know I am most certainly with you in those times of fear and questioning. I keep my promises to you. Here in this meal is a down payment on my promise to never leave you, to always be with you.”
Here he is. Come and eat and drink.

We come from the outside, looking in. We feel separate, apart, not connected, living without meaning and without purpose. Unemployed or underemployed, left behind by an economy that rewards those who have more with still more … and leaves those with less, with even less, even less. Retired and bored, sitting in front of the television day in and day out, alone. In school, not fitting in. In job, doing drudge work for a pittance of pay. In a most populated place, we may feel terribly alone.
So here, in this feast of love, Jesus meets us and welcomes us and says, “My beloved! I’ve been waiting for you. Your brothers and sisters, also my beloved, are already here. Come and join in this meal of welcome and abundance, without cost, without price. I’ve already paid the bill in full. Come in, take your reserved place, and celebrate with us.”
Here he is. Come and eat and drink.

Or perhaps we come with joy. Life is good for us; we feel God’s presence, God’s abundance and blessings, and we want to celebrate and share with others … especially others who we know, we realize, don’t have it so good in this life.
So here, in this feast of love, Jesus meets us and feeds us … and then, he takes us aside, and whispers in our ear, “Now here’s what I’d like you to do after you leave my table … there’s a brother or sister over there who needs an uplifting word … there’s a task there among the homeless and downtrodden that needs your participation … there’s a ministry in this congregation of my people that’s just been waiting for someone like you with your gifts and talents to come and take part, to go and serve … GO AND SERVE.”
Here he is. Come and eat and drink.

No matter where we are in this life, from where we’ve come, to where we’re going … in this feast of love, Jesus meets us in all our human conditions, and he gives us exactly what we need.
For this life. And for the life to come.

One size feeds all.
What feast of love, indeed.
Here he is. Come and eat and drink.
Amen.