Sunday was one of those days pastors dream about when the gospel, the festival theme (All Saint's Day), and the special use to which we put the day (first communion) all came together in a glorious, intertwined whole.
The gospel text was Matthew's Beatitudes, Chapter 5: 1-12
1 Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, 2 and he began to teach them.
He said:
3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
11 “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 12 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Click through to read the saintly, communion-ish lesson in all this!
When you first read these blessings they don't make a ton of sense. We tend to associate "blessed" with a particular kind of positive: getting something good. When we get extra money or good health or have nifty children we consider ourselves blessed. We wouldn't call mourning or being poor in spirit or getting pushed around moments of blessing.
We tend to consider communion the same way. We talk about all its positive aspects. It's a sacrament, a super-wonderful sacred thing! It's one of the two events ordained by God wherein he comes to us and physically touches us, giving us grace and forgiving our sins! We play up both communion and baptism so much that you almost expect to hear angels and trumpets when you come forward. Having gotten into the faith later than many, I consciously remember both my first communion and baptism. They were great experiences, intimate in their way, but you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at the lack of dancing clowns and monkeys (in the theological sense, of course). It just tastes like bread? I didn't get a personal text from God? No fireworks? Hmmm...what's the deal? Where's the blessing?
Now consider how we think of saints. We're accustomed to picturing Big Time Holy Dudes with halos and statues and stained windows. They're up on a pedestal, celebrated because they're not like us. Martin Luther said that each one of us is a sinner, lost and in need of redemption, and a saint at the same time, recipient of that exact redemption through God's grace. Still it's hard to picture just ordinary folks as saints. This is ironic, as in my experience the folks that look and sound most like saints usually aren't, especially if they're claiming that status for themselves. The most unremarkable people often show God's love most strongly but they don't look holy and sound holy...as if we know the exact identifying markers necessary to pass the test of our senses.
Three different concepts reveal three jarring inconsistencies between expectations and the naked eye view. Is something wrong with God here, or is something wrong with the way we're conceptualizing things? Is the Big Guy not delivering or are we looking for the wrong packages?
God answered those questions on this occasion, this incredible Sunday when the concepts of odd blessings, first communions, and saints all converged. Smushing all of these experiences together we found a bright, clear circle at their conjunction.
What do saints, communicants, and folks experiencing rough times all have in common? It's simple: they all need God. Looking at these events through the lens of glory and greatness cheats us out of their true meaning. Our need for God and his gracious, unfailing, and bountiful response provide the only view that resolves them into clear focus.
People often agonize over matters of fitness when they consider communing. Am I worthy? Do I believe enough? Do I know enough? How can I be sure whether I'm invited, whether I belong? Theologians--armchair and professional--have tried to answer these questions over the years to mixed success. The best answer comes through a return question: "Do you need God?" If the answer is no it's probably a waste of time coming forward. He's still there, but you're likely to miss him. But if the answer is "yes"--even if that yes comes in the form of, "I'm not sure I'm worthy on my own" or "I'm not sure I understand how communion works" or "I'm not sure this is going to help"--then congratulations! Even the smallest, most tentative "yes" to "Do you need God?" is enough to qualify you to come to the altar.
This is exactly what we taught our first communicants. If you can't remember anything else about this sacrament remember this: The only thing you need to participate is to think, "Are you there, God? I need you." The bread, wine, and blessing at the other end is God's absolutely unqualified "YES! I'm here! Come!!!"
That "YES" we receive at the altar extends to all circumstances of our lives as we take Christ with us having tasted and seen him in that moment. The "YES" of communion resounds through even our hardest and worst moments: when our spirit is impoverished, when we hunger and thirst for righteous resolutions that aren't coming, when we mourn our losses, when we are meek and get pushed around. How is it possible to need God more than we do in these times? Behold, there he is! Bread and wine, body and blood, invitation and response...all merge into a wonderful dance of comfort and strength that carries us through even our darkest hours.
The world tells us that the more we acknowledge our need the weaker we seem and become. Faith in God proves the opposite. The more we reveal our need the closer we see him come. It's no accident that one of the things pastors do when visiting parishioners in dire circumstances is offer communion. Clear revelation of need calls for the clearest, most affirmative response possible!
Bringing in our third topic, who are the saints but ones who have proclaimed God? Male or female, young or old, historical or present-day, celebrated or barely known all of them have understood God's clearly-cried "YES" in response to our probing need and the intimacy it reveals in our relationship with him. Most of them have been good at repeating that "YES" through their own lives, less because of personal talent and more because they understood how much they, themselves, needed it and the God who speaks it. Saints don't erase needs, they reveal them, respond to them, and help us all walk through them together. Every miracle ever invented--whether of Biblical origin or of the ordinary "someone said the right words and brought the right casserole at the right time" variety--has followed this simple pattern: You need God...and here he is! He's free, he's yours, now and always! Come, see, and celebrate!
Maybe we should stop pretending that we're so strong, so knowledgeable, so in control, so worthy, so good...especially in matters of faith. Maybe the best way to understand our Lord is just to admit that we need him and come, trusting he'll be there...there in worship, there in Sacrament, there in Word, there in prayer, there in every breath. This is our blessing. Therein lies our sainthood. This is what we come together to receive and celebrate each Sunday.
No matter what our background, our current circumstances, or our eventual destination we all have our need for God in common. I can't think of anything better to bind us together and to him.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
