Out of the Whirlwind: Finding Life

Last week, you heard Pastor Ron preach on the creation story of Job.  For four chapters, God responds to Job with this story of creation and the way in which God has ordered creation. Out of the whirlwind, God has finally responded to Job. Not with an answer to his question about why he is suffering. But about how God is a creator God. Who loves and nourishes creation each and every day. In the first part of our lesson today, God’s speech continues. 

Last week you were introduced to one particularly dangerous and wild creature. In this portion of today’s reading, you will meet a second. Leviathan - that huge sea-being created by God.

God speaks out of the whirlwind. 

“Can you pull in the sea beast, Leviathan, with a hook and tie his tongue with a rope? 

Can you put a cord through his nose or snap his jaw with an anchor? 

Will he beg you over and over for mercy, or flatter you with flowery speech? 

Will he make a pact with you to run errands and serve you the rest of your life? 

Will you play with him like a bird, or put a leash on him for your children? 

Will you display him in the marketplace so that shoppers can haggle over his price? 

Can you shoot him full of arrows or drive a fishing spear into his head? 

Should you lay your hand on him, you would never remember the battle - won’t live to tell the story. 

Any hope of controlling him would be delusional. 

The sight of him makes one stumble. 

If you can’t hold your own against this fierce creature, how can you stand before me? 

Who can confront me and get away with it? 

I am in charge of this - everything under heaven is mine. I run this universe!” --Job 41:1-8

If Job hasn’t been brought to his knees by the earlier part of God’s response, he can only fall to them now. “Who are you?” God asks him. “Who are you that you think you are in control of this world? The universe? The cosmos? Who are you?”

There is an ancient myth that this Leviathan represents chaos. Perhaps that’s an appropriate thought for the times we are in. But I wonder if, here, Leviathan isn’t better characterized by the Leviathan written about by Thomas Hobbes, the 17th century British philosopher. Hobbes challenges us to consider that the Leviathan - this great monster of chaos - is actually within us all. That when we begin to believe that we are in control of this universe, we have succumbed to it and to the chaos it brings with it. Perhaps, this is God’s purpose with these words. Not to condemn Job for his self-centeredness and his focus on his own suffering. Because isn’t that what suffering brings us to do - to curl in upon ourselves? To focus only on ourselves and our own pain? Perhaps God’s purpose with Job (and with us) is to break open his vision. To reframe his perspective. To say to him, “You think you know about the world and about my justice, but you don’t! You don’t!”

God is re-orienting Job to a new vision, a non-human centered vision of the world. Teaching him humility. To give him a new vision, a new perspective. To invite him to look around. To breathe. And to live.

How will Job respond? We hear his answer in chapter 42.

“I’m convinced. I know you can do anything; no plan of yours can be opposed successfully. You asked, “Who is this muddying the water, confusing the issue, second-guessing my purposes?’ I admit it. It was me. I have spoken about things I didn’t understand, wonders beyond my own comprehension. You said, ‘Listen and I will speak; Let me ask the questions and you give the answers.” I admit, my ears had heard about you, rumors of you. But now, my own eyes have seen you. Firsthand. Therefore, I relent. And find comfort on dust and ashes - in my own humanity.” --Job 42:1-6

At the beginning of the book of Job, Satan argued with God that God had created the world in such a way that the righteous were kept from all harm - that God had placed a fence around them to protect them. This was the same worldview that Job and his friends also held - that the world was ordered in such a way that the righteous are rewarded and the wicked are punished. It’s the picture we had of Job at the beginning - a “blameless and upright man who feared God and turned away from evil.” A man who made sacrifices for his children preemptively - just in case. His was a very ordered world, where one’s righteousness produced prosperity.

But that world was shattered and collapsed around him in ashes. And, eventually, Job reached a second and different conclusion about the order of the cosmos, accusing God of fencing him in. Of creating a protective hedge so tightly that it feels as though he is being suffocated. 

These two conclusions - these two worldviews - are spoken by Satan and Job in the earlier chapters of the book. But, when God speaks, beginning in chapter 38 and continuing to this morning, both perspectives are called into question. The created order is not what any of them thought or imagined. The world is not a perfectly safe place for humanity. But, it is an ordered place and it is a place of profound beauty and freedom. And, within it, there is a place for humanity. Not for dominion, but for humility and wonder. God invites Job into this world and into God’s vision, to see the world in a new way. To reorient himself. To understand that he is not the center of the cosmos. To see the world from God’s point of view and to understand in a new way his place in that world. 

Our reading continues in chapter 42.

After God had finished speaking to Job, he turned to Eliphaz the Temanite and said, “I’m angry at you and your two friends because you haven’t spoken about me correctly as did my servant Job. So now, take seven bulls and seven rams, go to my servant Job, and prepare an entirely burned offering for yourselves. Job my servant will pray for you, and I will act favorably by not making fools of you because you didn’t speak correctly, as did my servant Job.”

Eliphaz from Teman, Bildad from Shuah, and Zophar from naamah did what the Lord told them; and the Lord accepted Job’s prayer.

After Job had interceded for his friends, God restored his fortune. And then doubled it! All his brothers and sisters and friends came to him and ate food with him in his house. They comforted and consoled him for all the trouble God had brought him. Each one of gave him a qesitah and a gold ring. Then the Lord blessed Job’s latter days more than his former ones. He had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, one thousand yoke of oxen, and one thousand female donkeys. He also had seven sons and three daughters. He named one Jemimah (or Dove); a second, Keziah (or Cinnamon); and the third Keren-Happuch (or Darkeyes). No women in all the land were as beautiful as Job’s daughters; and their father gave an inheritance to them along with their brothers. After this, Job lived 140 years and saw four generations of his children. Then Job died, old and satisfied. --Job 42:7-17

Job gets it. And responds by praying for his friends. And by having more children, including three beautiful daughters to whom he gives names that reflect their beauty. And, then, in an act unheard of in ancient Israel, Job gives them an inheritance along with their brothers. We see a transformed Job. Transformed by his own suffering and led by God to open his eyes to the beauty and grace of the world around him. To have hope in it and in God’s ordering of it. To breathe. To live. And to give his children the same freedom that God gives all creation - freedom to be fully who they have been created to be. 

At the beginning of our lectionary year, I wondered if Job was right for us this summer. Who could have known then what we know now? We are witness to the truth that the world is not perfectly safe for humanity. 

Yet, we, like Job, are called to a new vision of our world. To open our eyes to the beauty and grace of the world that God has created. To view it and all that God has made from a place of humility and wonder. And to have hope in it and in God’s ordering of it. And, then, like Job to breathe. And to live into our humanity and the freedom given to us by God, won for us by Christ’s act on the cross. So that we might fully be the whole and gracious and loving people God has created us to be. And that we might live in a world that, even though sometimes doesn’t feel safe, trust that God orders it and is in control.

May this be our lesson and learning in this time from the book of Job. Amen.

Preached July 12, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 6

Readings: Psalm 150; Job 41:1-8; 42:1-17

God's Greatest Promise: Known At the Table

On the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Where do you want us to make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?” He said, “Go into the city to a certain man, and say to him, ‘The Teacher says, My time is near; I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples.’” So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them, and they prepared the Passover meal.

When it was evening, he took his place with the twelve; and while they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.” And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?” He answered, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” Judas, who betrayed him, said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?” He replied, “You have said so.”

While they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will never again drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” Matthew 26:17-30 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

I don’t know about your families, but in mine, the best place to hear things was at our dinner table. Whether it was at the end of a day, catching up on what was going on in our lives. Whether it was in our weekly Sunday dinner at the home of either my grandparents or my great aunt and uncle. Whether it was lingering at the table after a meal at our family reunion. It was at the table where we heard the news. Where we listened to the stories of our family. Where we learned who we were.

I’m sure it was not that different with Jesus and his disciples that Passover evening. After all, they’d been living closely with each other for three years. They’d traveled together throughout the rural areas of Galilee and, then, Judea. Learning from each other. Watching Jesus interact with people. Healing them. Granting forgiveness. Feeding thousands. They’d eaten many meals together. They’d also eaten the Passover meal together. Twice.

I wonder, though, if this meal didn’t feel a little different for them. This was the first time they were celebrating the Passover meal in Jerusalem. They came to Jesus and asked him where they should make preparations for this meal. I wonder how surprised they must have been when Jesus told them that everything was already prepared. And that, as they followed Jesus’ instruction, everything simply fell into place. 

I wonder, too, how distressing it must have felt to all the disciples when they heard Jesus’ prediction of how one of them would betray them. (The word in Greek really means “hand him over.”) Did they know then that it would be Judas who would hand Jesus over to the authorities? Did they know also know then that, by the end of the Passover celebration, all of them would have denied their relationship with Jesus?

I wonder if they knew the significance of that meal. When Jesus took the loaf of bread into his hands and blessed it, were they reminded of the thousands that had been fed that day with just a few loaves of bread and a few fish? Did it remind them of God’s promise to care for them, to give them their daily bread? To give them everything they needed to live?

When Jesus gave it to them (the Greek uses the same word here as that used to describe Judas’ betrayal - to “hand over”). When Jesus handed over the bread and wine to them, did they also know that Jesus was handing over his body? And his blood? 

And, then, when Jesus used the word “covenant,” were they reminded of the blood covenant that God had made with Israel at the base of Mount Sinai? How Moses had taken sacrificial blood and sprinkled it on the people as a reminder of their mutual covenant with God? A covenant that they broke time and time again? A covenant that was never broken by God? Did the disciples understand that, in this meal, Jesus was initiating a new covenant? A new promise that would be not only for Israel, but for the Gentiles? The ethnos, in Greek? For all the nations?

As they sat around the table that Passover night, reliving a tradition maintained over centuries, a tradition that was intended to remind them of God’s action in freeing them from bondage, did they fully know what was soon to happen and how it would change everything? I wonder.

Sisters and brothers, tonight, we, too, sit around a table, some 2,000 years after that first meal. We, however, have the benefit of hindsight. We know the ending to the story. How even though we, just like those first disciples, have betrayed Jesus in one way or another in our lives, how we have “handed him over” in much the same way. Yet, how, in this meal, Jesus hands over to us his body. And his blood. In this bread and wine. Given for you. For me. For all people. 

It is here, around the table, where we learn who we are as God’s children. What depth of love God must have for us that God would hand God’s only son over? For us? 

One can only wonder. Amen.

Preached April 18, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Maundy Thursday
Readings: Matthew 26:17-30, Psalm 116:12-15.

Singing the Song of Lent

The film, “Remember the Titans,” is based on a true story, set in the 1970s in Alexandria, Virginia.  For years, schools have been segregated between black and white.  Under a federal order to integrate, two schools, one white and one black, are forced to close and form T.C. Williams High School, a fully integrated school.

The white head football coach of the Titans is replaced by an African-American coach from North Carolina, Coach Herman Boone, who is played in the movie by Denzel Washington.  There are deep tensions on the team, between black and white players, between black and white parents, between black and white coaches.  There are deep tensions in the city.  

Then the team goes on a two-week training camp--a boot camp of sorts--in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania--the site of the deadliest battle in the Civil War, a site of massive casualties for both Union and Confederate troops over three days.  It is there, at training camp in Gettysburg, where our scene begins.  Let’s watch!

The message for these young men was that, just like the soldiers in the Civil War, they, too, were part of a struggle that was much bigger than themselves.  A monumental struggle.  Something long--spanning history.   Something epic.  Something that has spanned the arc of our nation’s history into their own time and even into our time.

Eventually, though, these young men began to understand.  They began to come together.  And in the process, they were changed.  Their coaches and parents were changed.  The entire community was changed.

You and I are also part of something epic.  Something monumental.  A part of a story that spans the entire arc of history, beginning with the creation of our world, the deliverance of Israel out of slavery, the coming of the Messiah to, once and for all, deliver all people from sin into forgiveness, from death into life, from slavery into freedom.  

You and I are part of God’s story.  

Today, we begin the liturgical season of Lent.  In the early church, Lent was a time of learning, just like a training camp.  A journey for those new in the faith to prepare for their baptisms and to receive holy communion for the first time.  

During this time, they would immerse themselves in the three traditional disciplines of Lent--almsgiving, or caring for the poor; fasting; and immersing themselves in Scripture and prayer.

At the end of Lent came the Three Days, or the Triduum.  The Triduum was one service that began on Maundy Thursday, continued on Good Friday, and culminated with Easter Vigil on the evening before Easter Sunday. During the Three Days, these new believers would remember the movements of Christ during Holy Week--the Passover meal, Jesus’ death on the cross, and his resurrection.  And, at the culmination of the Easter Vigil, they would be baptized. And they would celebrate how they had been joined with Christ in his death and resurrection and delivered from sin and death to righteousness and freedom.  

The key to this Lenten journey for the new believers was conversion, or as the ancients put it, a change, a turning from one way of walking to another, from one way of life to a new way.  For these new believers, Christianity was not simply something more to do or to take on, but it was a complete change, a totally new way of living. And, in a pagan world, a world where Christians were a very small minority, it was a change that could also result in their death.

Like those early believers, we’re on a journey, too.  Now, it isn’t a journey that, for most of us, will result in a martyr’s death.  But, it is a journey of dying.  Dying to our old selves, dying to our old way of living.  And, for us, Lent is an opportunity in that journey to step back a bit, both as individuals and as a community.  To step back and take an inventory.  To take an inventory of our hearts. 

In the last verse of our lesson for this evening, we read these words, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  

What does your heart look like?  Where is your treasure?   

In 2 Corinthians, Paul writes that “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”

You are the righteousness of God.  Where your heart is reflects how you are living into being that righteousness of God.  How are you living now? Are you living in a way that reflects the wonder, the gratitude, the joy that is our life in Christ?  Too often our lives rest in the anticipation of a future life with God, rather than living life in the here and now and in the assurance of God’s presence in the here and now.  

Now, living into that wonder and gratitude and joy that is our life in Christ doesn’t ignore the brokenness or the suffering that is so present in our world today.  It doesn’t deny our own brokenness or our own complicity in that suffering.   

Yet wrapped into these realistic truths of our broken human existence is a greater truth--the truth of the resurrection. 

In Romans 6, Paul writes, “We have been buried with him through baptism into death, in order that just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so also we may live a new way of life.”

Today, on Ash Wednesday, we remember our mortality.  Without Christ, we face a sure and permanent death.  Yet, death is not the end for us.  In our baptism, we have been joined with Christ in his death and his resurrection.  Lent doesn’t have to be a season of mourning and sacrifice.  It is okay for us to have joy during Lent, to lean into the life that is ours as resurrected people of Christ.  To step back and to wonder and see with gratitude where God is at work in our lives, in our church, in our community and in our world.  

And it is okay to sing.

So, sing!  Sing during this season of Lent.  Sing the song of the epic story that spans the entire arc of salvation history.  Sing the song of deliverance sung by Miriam at the Red Sea, by Mary at the angel’s announcement, by the angels at Christ’s birth, by Simeon in witness to the Messiah, by the early Christians in a hostile, pagan world, by Luther in a medieval world of reform, by the faithful leaders of the Civil Rights movement as they marched for freedom, by the whole church today and by all the church triumphant.  

At the end of Lent, you will look back and you will see how you have been changed by this song.  This song of joy and wonder.  This song of humble awe and gratitude.  This song of Jesus, who is with us here and now, and forever into all eternity.  Amen.

Preached March 1, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Ash Wednesday
Readings: Joel 2:1-2, 12-17; Psalm 51:1-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b - 6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Salt and Light

Matthew 5:13-20 (CEB). "You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its saltiness, how will it become salty again? It's good for nothing except to be thrown away and trampled under people's feet. You are the light of the world. A city on top of a hill can't be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a basket. Instead, they put it on top of a lampstand, and it shines on all who are in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before people, so they can see the good things you do and praise your Father who is in heaven.

"Don't even begin to think that I have come to do away with the Law and the Prophets. I haven't come to do away with them but to fulfill them. I say to you very seriously that as long as heaven and earth exist, neither the smallest letter nor even the smallest stroke of a pen will be erased from the Law until everything there becomes a reality. Therefore, whoever ignores one of the least of these commands and teaches others to do the same will be called the lowest in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever keeps these commands and teaches people to keep them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. I say to you that unless your righteousness is greater than the righteousness of the legal experts and the Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.


Grace and peace to you from our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Well, I'm here! I made it!

After these past few weeks driving a rental truck to collect my stuff in storage at various points that, it seems, were all over the upper Midwest, I made it! I'm here!

I got all moved in on Tuesday, thanks to an amazing crew from this congregation who unloaded the truck in record time. And, over the past few days, I've been trying to organize. To get boxes in the right rooms. To get unpacked while I, at the same time, began my ministry here at Grace and Glory. It's been a busy week!

And, since Tuesday, I've been searching for salt. You see, I'm an egg eater in the mornings. I like my eggs scrambled, cooked into a frittata, or just simply hard-boiled, which is the easiest and fastest method.

On Tuesday night, the first night in my new apartment, I went out and got some hard-boiled eggs. The next morning, when I went to eat a couple of them for breakfast, I realized I had no salt. Well, actually, that's not completely true. I had salt. I just couldn't remember which box it was in.

So, I made myself a list because, of course, there were a few other things I needed. And on Wednesday evening, once again, I found myself in the grocery store. And I got everything on my list. Except the salt, which I forgot.

Thursday evening, though, I found the box. What a difference in those eggs I ate on Friday morning! The salt completely changed the flavor.

In our Gospel lesson today, we are presented with two images. One of those is salt.

Salt is one of those ingredients that has multiple properties. We see it used all over the Hebrew scriptures--the Old Testament--in many ways. It's connected to sacrifice. It's used as a purifying agent. Sharing it also suggests loyalty.

So, in the first few verses of our Matthew text today, when Jesus calls the disciples the "salt of the earth" and challenges them to live like salt, what he's really saying to them is to live this flavoring--to live a life that is pure and sacrificial and loyal. Not just towards God. But, particularly, towards the entire world.

This is what our Isaiah text is saying to us, too. This reading is a dialogue between the Jewish people and God. They come to God saying, "Look, God! We are keeping all of the rituals you want us to keep. We fast. And we fast. But you, God--you don't seem to see it!"

Then, God says back to them, "That's not what I see. I see that your rituals--your fasts. But they don't lead you to better behavior. You don't treat your neighbors better. You don't treat your workers well. The ritual of fasting does you no good because you aren't changed by it. There's no transformation." In fact, God says, "Your fasting is selfish. It's oppressive. It's violent!" And God calls them to look at their behavior, and to understand that the purpose of the ritual is that they might be changed. And to see, that unless they are changed, none of those rituals really matter.

That transformation is what Paul is talking about in our second reading when he refers to the "mind of Christ." We become spiritual people because the Holy Spirit works on us to change our hearts. If we are open to it, we are transformed. And we begin to live that salty life--a life that is flavored by God's love. Just like my eggs were flavored by that salt.

And this brings us to the second image. That of light.

In my new apartment, all of the windows are covered with plantation shutters. Do you know which ones I'm talking about? Each slat is about 2" wide. And, you know what? No matter how tight I try to shut them at night, because of the safety lights in my apartment complex, there is always just a little light that peeks through them.

When we live a salty life, we become light. Now, it may be a little light that just peeks out into the world. But, over time, we become a strong light that shines brightly out in the world. A light that seeks to share God's love. That seeks to change the world to become the just and righteous place that God intends.

It is not God's intent that our transformation is passive. Instead, God wants us to be active. To be out in the world, active, shining brightly. Finding those dark places in our world. Opening them up to the light of God--the light of Christ. Christ, the One who knows deeply about those dark places. The one who went into those dark places for us. Willingly. Sacrificially. Into the dark places. And became Light for us and for all people, in every time and every place.

When I first came to visit this place this past December and, as I've started to settle in over these past few days, I've been watching you. I've seen your welcome--you all living into the statement in your bulletin--that the doors of this church are always open to those seeking the Good News of the Holy Gospel.

You have done that welcome incredibly well! Through the food pantry, through WISE, through the backpack and quilt ministries. You have welcomed well.

Yet, out in the world there is much darkness. As believers, God is calling us to go out. To shine our light as a congregation out there. 

Where are those dark places in Oldham County? Where are those places that resist God's justice and righteousness?

I'm wondering if, over the next several months as we begin ministry together, we might be challenged to think on these things. To wonder together how we continue to bring flavor here in this place and outside in the community. To wonder together how we continue to shine our light so that it, like the light of Christ, might never be diminished. And like the light in my apartment, find a way to peek through the darkness. To act.

I invite you to join with me in this work so that together we might be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. And I know and trust that the Holy Spirit will lead the way as we work together to carry out God's kingdom of justice and righteousness in our community and in our world.

May God grant this. Amen.

Preached February 5, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
5th Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Isaiah 58:1-12, Psalm 112:1-9, 1 Corinthians 2:1-16, Matthew 5:13-20

Chocolate and Bread and Wine

The believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to the community, to their shared meals, and to their prayers. A sense of awe came over everyone. God performed many wonders and signs through the apostles. All the believers were united and shared everything. They would sell pieces of property and possessions and distribute the proceeds to everyone who needed them. Every day, they met together in the temple and ate in their homes. They shared food with gladness and simplicity. They praised God and demonstrated God’s goodness to everyone. The Lord added daily to the community those who were being saved. (Acts 2:42-47 CEB)

Holy Communion.  This is our topic tonight. 

When I talk about Holy Communion, what comes to mind for you?  Perhaps you think of the words of Jesus that are spoken each time we receive communion, the words that promise that Christ is present in the bread and wine…”This IS my body given for you” or “This IS my blood shed for you.”  

Or, perhaps, it’s the “for you.”  The understanding that Christ’s sacrifice was made for each of us and for people everywhere.  

Or perhaps, it's the words, “Do this in remembrance of me.” This meal was, after all, instituted during Passover, the festival that Israel celebrated as a remembrance of how God had fulfilled his promise to lead them from slavery into freedom, and which the earliest Christians celebrated as a remembrance of Christ’s own passover from death to life.

Or, maybe the words “Shed for you and for all people for the forgiveness of sins” are most meaningful--the knowledge that, in this meal as in our baptism, we receive forgiveness of sins and, as Luther writes, that with this forgiveness comes “life and salvation.”

So, when I mention Holy Communion, what comes to mind?  

The movie, Chocolat, is set in a quiet village in France.  It is fifteen years after the end of the second World War.  Led by its mayor, the village closely adheres to tradition.  If you lived in this village, you knew what was expected of you, you knew your place.  And, if you happened to forget, someone would be there to remind you.  

As the movie begins, they are just beginning their somber observance of the forty days of Lent.  At the same time, a newcomer, Vianne Rocher, and her daughter, Anouk, arrive in the village and begin preparations to open a shop.

Vianne is different. She wears much more colorful clothing than the village women.  She is warm and welcoming.  She is friendly and alluring.  She is very different from the townspeople and does not seem to fit in well.  Yet, one-by-one, she begins to win people over.  One-by-one, the villagers seem to fall under the mysterious spell of Vianne and her confections. One of these is her eccentric landlady, Armande.  

One by one, the villagers come, each with their own brokenness.  Armande, who is estranged from her daughter and separated from her grandson.  One a widow.  Another, a woman abused by her husband.  A couple who have grown apart from each other.  An old man seeking love and companionship.  One by one, they come.  And, soon the chocolaterie becomes a place of gathering, a place of laughter and hope, of warmth and friendship.

Yet, all of this is much to the dismay of the mayor, who begins to speak out publicly against Vianne for tempting the people during Lent, which he believes is to be a time of abstinence and denial. 

As the struggle between Vianne and the mayor intensifies, a band of river gypsies arrives and makes camp on the outskirts of the village.  While most of the town object to their presence, Vianne embraces and welcomes them and their leader, Roux, into the fold.

It is through the power of chocolate that this group of people who would not otherwise associate with each other, come to know and to love one another.  And, as we see in these clips, they celebrate.  Boy, do they celebrate!

What happens in this wonderful movie is a perfect metaphor for what happens for us in holy communion.  

Just as the chocolate was the means by which people were drawn in together, so in this bread and in this wine we are drawn into the presence of Christ and formed into community by the Holy Spirit.  

In this meal, yes, there is forgiveness, there is remembrance, there is promise, there is thanksgiving, there is joy, there is life and there is freedom.  

But, it is especially in this meal that we are transformed.  In our brokenness, we are transformed into the body of Christ and, then, sent into the world to welcome others to the feast, especially those who live on the fringes of our world.   

In our Acts reading tonight, we heard how the early believers lived after Christ rose and ascended to heaven.  They devoted themselves to the apostle’s teaching, they prayed together, they shared meals, they sold their possessions, distributing the proceeds to those in need.  

In this text, I’ve always been struck by verse 43...that as they ate together and lived fully into their lives as the body of Christ, “A sense of awe came over everyone.”

THIS is what I hope you think of and feel each time you participate in communion: awe. Awe. Awe in the wonder and mystery of this meal and it’s power to transform us. 

Eat and drink, then, with awe.  And may God perform many signs and wonders through you! 

Amen.