The Living Waters

A Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent
The Rev. Patricia A. Gillespie

1 Samuel 16:1-13
Psalm 23
Ephesians 5:1-14
John 9:1-38

YUCK?

Jesus spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man's eyes . . .

YUCK! The poor guy. How would you feel? Just sitting and minding your own business, then some guys just passing by get into an argument about whether your blindness is your fault or your parents' fault then one of them puts dirt and spit on your eyes. Yuck, right?

But, maybe it was different back then. Maybe in first-century Palestine putting spit and mud in someone's eyes was what healers did? Well, yes, sometimes saliva was thought to be healing. But, at least until Jesus comes along, guess what the bible says about spit? "YUCK. " Well, the words in Hebrew and Greek are different. But spitting on someone meant the same thing. It is a disgusting and degrading put down.

In Leviticus it says that contact with the spit of a ritually unclean person makes unclean anyone it touches. It is contagious. So, just what is the man-born-blind going to catch from Jesus? According to the Pharisees, anyone working –including healing or making mud-- on the sabbath, has broken the law and is a sinner. The Pharisees say they know that Jesus is a sinner. Maybe the saliva carries sin too? Contagious sin? This mud looks even more dangerous.

Why did Jesus use something so disgusting to heal the man? He healed other people, including blind people, just by willing it, all it took was a few words, no messy yucky slobbery mud. He is known for saying simply "your faith has healed you."

Does Jesus need spit, mud, or even the faith of the blind to heal? No. ... But perhaps we do perhaps especially those of us whose faith is weak need it -- we need something 'real' something we can touch or taste: dirt and spit, bread and wine, water or oil.

When Samuel anointed David with oil, did the oil really transform a shepherd boy into a king? The oil is a sign, a symbol of kingship. Samuel's anointing is a ritual action, a kind of liturgy. An act in which something earthy and tangible means something more -- a sacrament.

Anyone remember your catechism? What is a sacrament? The sacraments are outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace, given by Christ as sure and certain means by which we receive that grace. (Book of Common Prayer, p. 857) The next question then must be, What do we mean by 'grace'? Grace is God's favor towards us, unearned and undeserved; by grace God forgives our sins, enlightens our minds, stirs our hearts, and strengthens our wills. (858)

God uses real things that we can touch and understand to show us the truth of God's love for us: oil poured on a shepherd, a baby in a manger, yucky mud on blind eyes; and, in the sacrament we have gathered for today, bread and wine, body and blood.

Blood is almost as yucky as spit and the thought of eating a real body is positively disgusting. But Jesus doesn't mess around with niceties. When earlier in the Gospel according to John Jesus says "those who eat my flesh ... have eternal life" (6:54), the word used for "eat" is not a delicate, spiritual word for melt-in-your-mouth wafers. The Greek might be better translated "crunch" or "gnaw". "those who crunch and gnaw on my flesh ... have eternal life."

And for Jesus to suggest that we drink his blood, makes a little slobbery mud in the eye seem pretty nice in comparison. Blood is mentioned in the bible in all kinds of ways: as a powerful sign of life itself and sacrificial blood was used in rituals of purification; but before Jesus came along there was one thing that the Scriptures were quite clear about: A person must never eat blood of any sort, or they would be cut off from the community. Jesus' suggestion that his followers drink his blood was scandalous.

Think about it ... it is still a scandalous and disgusting thought. Once after giving blood to the Red Cross. the nurse put the bag full of blood on the tray next to my bare arm. It was warm, and I immediately pulled back from it. I thought, This is my blood. Familiar phrase, yes?

I pick up the bag: "Here, This is my blood given for you Have a sip, a little something to remember me by." YUCK!

Well, let's hope that there are some things you wouldn't accept from Pat that you might accept from Jesus. After all, he is our Lord--the Messiah, the Son of God So the man-born-blind should have welcomed the yucky spitty mud in his eye because it was from Jesus?

But just who was Jesus to the man-born-blind? Possibly a complete unknown. Unlike other healings, this man did not choose to come to Jesus. He does not recognize Jesus as the Christ and cry out to the Son of David for healing as other blind men did. He is not told, as others are, that his faith has healed him. He identifies Jesus only as "the man Jesus" --this is just some carpenter from Galilee.

Expecting healing from a Galilean carpenter --that's crazy. It is as if you needed heart surgery, a triple bypass, and expected some plumber from Iowa to help.

Look at today's gospel. What do you see? A carpenter from Galilee working an unheard of miracle with yucky spitty mud. That's crazy. It is like some kind of magic. Okay, Lord, what's happening here? Mud heals blindness, oil makes kings, next we'll hear that bread becomes body and wine becomes blood!

What IS happening here? When you come here on Sunday and watch our Eucharistic celebration What do you see? A magic meal produced by someone who can't even make coffee? Well, perhaps that's not quite as risky as the plumber from Iowa. But it does look like magic, some kind of presto-chango hocus-pocus.

You know where those words comes from, don't you? The words are from the Great Thanksgiving of the Liturgy. "Hocus Pocus. " The magic moment. The original Latin words are "Hoc est corpus meum." It means "This is my body." Powerful words. When we hear them, what do we see? a regular person (maybe in some fancy clothes) ordinary bread and wine (maybe with fancy tableware)

What is happening here? In every Eucharist, the actions of the last supper are repeated: What did Jesus do then? He took bread, gave thanks or blessing, broke it, and gave it to his companions.

take, bless, break, give:
Every time the sacrament is celebrated these four actions are repeated.

TAKE, bless, break, give:
What is taken? The bread and wine offered by the community. Sounds simple, but the act of offering has been the center of heated debate in the history of the Church. The question is, are we able to offer anything at all to God? We bring bread and wine and we bring money, but we offer them as something more -- they represent our work, our time, our selves. We offer to be taken what God has first given us -- our lives.

take, BLESS, break, give:
What is blessed? Blessed be God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit And blessed be God's kingdom, now and forever. To bless God and to give thanks are one and the same action. Listen to the Great Thanksgiving, the Eucharistic Prayer. ('Eucharist' means thanksgiving.) Our Prayer Book offers eight different Eucharistic prayers. But all of them share a common trinitarian pattern: Thanks and praise are offered to the Father for God's work in creation and incarnation. The saving work of the Son is remembered. And the Spirit is called upon for sanctification. Father, Son, and Spirit thanks, remembrance, and sanctification. Our blessing is trinitarian.

take, bless, BREAK, give:
What is broken? The breaking of the bread is not a sign of division, but rather a sign of our unity. We all share one loaf and one cup.

take, bless, break, GIVE:
What is given? Christ's body for us to gnaw on? What do we get? Is it contagious? We get a sacrament--a means of grace. Grace IS contagious. We receive grace: remember what the Prayer Book says about grace? our sins are forgiven, our minds are enlightened, our hearts are stirred, our wills are strengthened . . . and our union with Christ and with one another is strengthened.

Take, bless, break, give --
and with those actions, something miraculous happens: Ordinary bread and wine become something extraordinary -- the body and blood of Christ. Christ then is really present.

HOW does that happen? Good question. The most honest answer is: 'We don't know. It is a mystery.' And in fact, the characteristic attitude of most Episcopalians to the presence of Christ in the Eucharist is this 'reverent agnosticism.'

Agnosticism doesn't mean that we don't believe it. We believe it, we just don't claim to understand it. The reality is not in our understanding but in our experience We know, the community of the Church has always known, that Christ is really present in the Eucharist.

We believe it not because we can explain it, we believe it because we experience it. It may not be our own personal experience of Christ's presence, but the experience of the Christian community. I may believe because I recognize the reality of others' experience:

in the radiance of my grandmother's face when she receives the sacrament.
in the poetry of a medieval saint,
or in the response of small child, who after drinking from the chalice, announces the Real Presence of Christ with a loud "YUM!"

But believing doesn't stop us from wanting an explanation-- the faith we are given looks for understanding. And there are lots of theories about "The Real Presence": traditional Roman Catholic transubstantiation Eastern Orthodox transessentiation. In both of these, although bread and wine still look, smell, and taste like bread and wine, the reality present --the substance or essence-- is Christ's body and blood.
Many Protestant Churches explain Christ's presence as a kind of memorialism meaning that in the act of remembering, Christ is spiritually present.
Where does that leave us Episcopalians? Individual Episcopalians may accept any or none of these explanations. The 'reverent agnosticism' of the Episcopal Church recognizes that no theory can fully explain the mystery and so our Church has refused to require belief in any particular theory.
That still doesn't stop the questions, and someone is certain to ask: WHEN does it happen? When is the 'moment of consecration' when bread and wine become body and blood. Again there are plenty of theories

when the priest says that hocus pocus, This is my body?
when the Spirit is called to sanctify the gifts?
when the sacrament is received in faith?
Our liturgy is designed to answer 'yes' to all of these. No one moment is magic --the whole service consecrates. And something more happens during the celebration. So that the whole question of 'when ' and time is set aside.
Most of our Eucharistic prayers include an acclamation to be said by all the people--a summary of our faith and a summary of what is happening here. We may say, "Christ has died Christ is risen. Christ will come again." In the Eucharist we are remembering and looking forward. Time itself is set aside in this prayer. This transcendence of time is part of our heritage from the Jews. There is a Jewish saying: 'Our ancestors crossed the Red Sea and our feet got wet.' In prayer, remembering becomes real participation. So when the haunting Afro-American spiritual asks about the crucifixion: "Were you there?" Our answer is YES. In the Eucharistic celebration we are there when our Lord was crucified, we are there on Easter to proclaim the resurrection, and we are receiving a foretaste of the coming kingdom.
And Christ is Really Present:

Present in the bread and the wine
Present in the word of Scripture
Present, as we have been promised, in the community gathered in his name.
Really Present in the community? Look around you. Look at yourself. Lent is, after all, a period for self-examination.
When I looked in the mirror this morning I didn't exactly see the real presence of Christ. When I look closely, especially early in the morning, my reaction is usually: YUCK! Look closely enough and we see our brokenness that we are hurting AND that we hurt others. If I ask myself the question from this morning's gospel, I know the answer. Who sinned? I did, Lord. And I am probably blind too.
Look closely. We all arrive here burdened: carrying our hurts, our mistakes, our confusion. Some of us also carry anger, guilt, shame . . . . We each have our list of burdens, of sins. Perhaps we are all born blind and desperate for healing.
But remember that while the disciples and the Pharisees were preoccupied with the question "Who sinned?" Jesus made the blindness into a sign revealing the works of God. Jesus uses the ordinary, broken things of the world to point to God's glory.
Look at today's Gospel. What do we see?
Yucky dirt and spit taken, perhaps not blessed and broken, but certainly changed, and given. But what is happening here? --take, bless, break, give-- Jesus takes a man's blindness, at least indirectly, blesses him, breaks through the darkness and gives him to the world that God's works might be revealed.
Look at the altar during the Great Thanksgiving. What do we see?
Ordinary bread and wine taken, blessed, broken, and given What is happening here? The Real Presence of the body and blood of Christ.
Look around you. What do we see?
Ourselves - our confusion, our mistakes, our hurts, our sin YUCK! What is happening here? Are we also to be taken, blessed, broken, and given? What is happening here? the body of Christ, Christ's Real Presence, right here, right now we are here that God's works might be revealed.
Here, this morning, Let us offer ourselves, our hurts, our mistakes, our general human yuckiness that we may be taken, blessed, broken, and given as Christ's own body present in our world.
So, my sisters and brothers, when the supper is prepared, come to the table - take, eat. This is no hocus pocus, this is the Real Thing. This ordinary stuff, this bread and this wine, will be for us the body and blood of Christ, the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation. YUM!

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