We are Each Other’s Bread and Wine
no. 11

by Jane Roeschley
Associate Pastor of Worship and Lay Ministries
Mennonite Church of Normal, Normal, Illinois
World Communion Sunday, 2008

Genesis 12:1-2, 3b; Ezekiel 37:26-27; 2 Corinthians 3:4-6, 10-11

 

Hatred Converted by Love

When the drama, The Women of Lockerbie, was performed in Bloomington/Normal, I went to see it.  It was shortly after the Virginia Tech shootings, so that event was especially on my mind, not to mention the Nickel Mine tragedy and the ongoing losses of the Iraq war – all situations of immense hurt, and examples of the way our world is full of violence that begets more violence.

Based on true events, The Women of Lockerbie tells the story of women in the village of Lockerbie, Scotland, the place where the US Pan Am 103 jet was shot down in 1988, in retaliation for US military confrontations with Libya.  All 259 persons aboard the plane, as well as 11 persons in the village, were killed.

The play is set at a point about seven years after the plane went down.  As one can imagine, characters in the play, the loved ones of various victims, voice their hate for those responsible for this tragedy – for both the violent perpetrators as well as those less obviously at fault.   Continue reading “I Will Make with Them a Covenant of Peace” →

We are Each Other’s Bread and Wine
no. 9

by Bradley Roth
Warden Mennonite Church (Warden, Washington)
February 15, 2009

Mark 6:7-13

 

In Mark 6, Jesus gathers the Twelve together and instructs them in their mission.  They’re to go out in pairs, staying wherever they receive a welcome.  He gives them authority over unclean spirits, and we find them proclaiming repentance, casting out evil spirits, and anointing the sick for healing (vv. 12-13).  In all of this, the disciples are to travel lightly—extremely lightly.  Jesus tells them to take nothing except a staff—“no bread, no bag, no money in their belts” (v.8).  They can wear sandals, but they’re not to take an extra tunic—that is, no change of clothes.

To travel light is to be nimble, free to go where you need to at a moment’s notice—like fitting everything into a carry-on bag.  But it’s also a recipe for an incredible sort of vulnerability.  Jesus desired to remind the disciples of their dependence on God.

Something like this happens at the Lord’s Table.  Continue reading “Take No Bread for the Journey” →

We are Each Other’s Bread and Wine
no. 8

by Rachel Epp Miller
San Antonio Mennonite Church (Texas)
November 16, 2008

 

Isaiah 25:6-10; Psalm 34:1-10

 

When I think of feasts, many stories and images come to mind.  I think of family gatherings where hearty conversation goes in more directions than the people present.  I think of my experience of feasting with new friends in a small village in Kenya where their generosity was displayed with everything they had.  I think of our annual Thanksgiving worship service where we eat together and share about God’s presence in our lives, or the Love Feast on Maundy Thursday when we together remember and reenact Jesus’ last supper with his disciples.  I think of the daily routine of my friend Rosemary who had Alzheimer’s disease who would always say to me, her caregiver, after supper, “My sufficiency has been sufonsified”.  I think of camping with nieces and nephews, roasting sticky marshmallows over the fire and stuffing them with Caramilk bars.  But I also think of the daily reality of food—eating lunch at church while chatting with Jake or Hugo or reading the Mennonite Weekly Review, enjoying a late supper with Wendell while catching up on each other’s day, or laughing together through last night’s John Stewart episode. Continue reading “Worship’s Feast” →

We are Each Other’s Bread and Wine
no. 7

by Joetta Handrich Schlabach
Faith Mennonite Church
Minneapolis. Minnesota, 11 January 2009

 

Jeremiah 31:7-9a, 12-13; John 1:1-5, 10-14

A number of years ago the speaker at a retreat I attended gave a couple of pointers for dealing with difficult people.  By difficult, she didn’t mean the mildly aggravating kind, but the person with whom one is in deep conflict, perhaps to the point of loathing. Imagine that it’s almost impossible to speak with this person without getting into a shouting match, or having dead silence settle between you like a wall of ice.

Janet Hagberg told us that when she anticipated an encounter with the person with whom she had become estranged, she did two things mentally and spiritually to prepare herself.  First, she pulled out an imaginary electrical cord so that the negative current from this person would not flow to her. Second, she imagined offering this person the bread and wine of communion.  “I cannot hate someone with whom I share the body of Christ,” she said.

Mennonites have historically believed in a close relationship between reconciliation and communion. In former days when communion was a somber, holy, and rare occasion, practiced only once or twice a year, the pastors and bishops in some regional conferences would pay individual visits to each church member to ensure that no conflicts or hard feelings existed between any of the members. If such discord existed, people were expected to go and seek forgiveness and to set things right before receiving communion.  In that framework, peace-seeking and peacemaking preceded the table.  This was the living out of the teaching of the Apostle Paul to the Corinthian church that they should not eat and drink “in an unworthy manner” (1 Cor. 11:27).

In recent years many Mennonite churches, and we are among them, have begun to practice more frequent communion. They and we have come to believe that our communion practice and our commitment to peacemaking might be strengthened by greater frequency and by recognizing that peacemaking is linked not just to the preparation for communion but to the very eating and the drinking, and the actions that follow.

The essence of what we commemorate in communion is encapsulated in the words of John 1:  “…and the Word became flesh and lived among us.” However we understand the mystery of the incarnation—God entering the human experience in Jesus—we are offered the ultimate example of peacemaking in the incarnation. No matter how many times humanity turned its back on God, no matter how many times those who considered themselves “God’s chosen people” broke the covenant relationship God had established with them, no matter how cruel and barbaric people were toward one another, God chose to enter that fallen, broken reality and express through a face-to-face human relationship the love that God has always had for all of creation. Even without dying, this would have been more than anyone would expect.  To go even further and let this beloved humanity misunderstand and deal a death blow to the Holy One represents a love we cannot fathom. This is our example and our call to peacemaking.

Communion is not merely a reenactment, a memorial of something that happened in the past, the once-and-for-all death of Jesus for the sins of humanity. It is also an affirmation of the current commitment each of us who partakes makes to allow this saving love to operate in us so that we are ready to give our lives—our body and blood—in service to others. And it is a proclamation of a future reality—God’s Kingdom—that we believe, by faith, is already breaking into our world to be completed when Christ returns.

Therefore, when we take communion, we are fed and nourished by the saving love of Jesus. We are drawn into communion with our brothers and sisters in this congregation and in the worldwide body of Christ, which bids us to care for their needs as we care for our own.   We are called to compassion for the wide world of suffering, which has not yet tasted life in the kingdom of God’s shalom. This includes compassion for those who inflict the suffering, just as Jesus had compassion for his assassins.

Our participation in communion is practice: a holy rehearsal for the way Christ calls us to live, to interact, and to pray each day. Each day we need to be in communion with God, thanking God for coming to us despite our brokenness and sin and granting us forgiveness and peace. Each day we need to be mindful of our brothers and sisters in Christ, here and around the world, seeking reconciliation with any who have wronged us or whom we have offended. And each day we need to counter the messages of despair that shout out from headlines with prayers of persistent hope for God’s kingdom to come. When we pray for wholeness for others, we cannot at the same time wish or do them harm.  When we thank God for saving us, we cannot at the same time wish God’s wrath on others.  Communion calls us to a total life of peacemaking.

As we gather for communion, we will give expression to these various dimensions.  We invite you to come down the center aisle and approach the servers in pairs (whoever arrives at the same time you do). Each of you will take a piece of bread from the basket and place it in the hand of the other and then eat it together; you will do the same with the cup.  In the coming week, please be mindful of and pray for the person with whom you share communion.

After you have received the elements, you may move to the large table where you will find small pieces of paper and pens. Here you may write the name of a person, a relationship, or a place in the world that needs peace, which you will commit to pray for throughout this year.  You may use a paper clip to hang your prayer on the tree.[*] Everyone is invited to take part in this prayer exercise, even if you do not participate in communion.

When Jesus knew that his time with his disciples was coming to a close, he reassured them with these words:  “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”  As if words were not enough, he took bread and after giving thanks said: “This is my body that is for you.  Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper, he took the cup, saying: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this as often as you drink it in remembrance of me.”

As often as we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes; we proclaim his presence with us here; and we joyfully anticipate his coming kingdom.

[*] The tree that was part of our Advent/Christmas/Epiphany visual elements was still standing on January 11 when this sermon was preached. It became our peace tree as we decorated it with prayers for peace.

We are Each Other’s Bread and Wine
no. 6

by James M. Lapp
Salford Mennonite Church
Harleysville, Pennsylvania, May 4, 2008

 

 

John 17:1-11, 20-24

Recently I participated in a peace witness in Washington DC.  About 3000 of us met on a Friday evening at the National Cathedral for nearly two hours of worship together.  We then went out into the cold wind and rain to walk together to the White House to give witness to the urgent concern we felt about the war in Iraq.  We carried tiny lamps as signs of hope in the darkness of night.  After walking perhaps two miles, we circled the White House singing, holding our small lights as a witness against the dark shroud of war that hangs over our nation.  Likely the President was not at home the evening we encircled his house, but this did not deter the enthusiasm of those who walked in an orderly way to give voice to the depth of their convictions.  It was one small witness for peace in a disordered and fragmented world.

I have occasionally participated in other gestures designed as a witness for peace, such as redirecting that part of my federal taxes devoted to past, present and future wars to ministries of compassion.  I have joined with countless others in writing letters to congressional leaders to call for refocusing of national priorities toward peaceful activities and to give witness to my faith in Jesus the Prince of Peace.  I realize these actions may seem strange and perhaps even reprehensible to some of you.   Many Christians agree that war does not represent God’s intention for humankind, but too often we sit back in helplessness not knowing what to do about it. Continue reading “Communion: a witness for peace” →

We are Each Other’s Bread and Wine
no. 5

by Rev. Joanna Harader
Peace Mennonite Church
Lawrence, Kansas, August 3, 2008

 

Matthew 26: 17-30

I invite you to dig into your memories and imaginations.  Envision the table. It’s a big table, with all the leaves put in.  The table is covered by Aunt Betty’s table cloth that doesn’t quite reach the ends.  There are lots of chairs around the table—six nice wooden ones, a few wobbly chairs brought up from the basement, a couple of metal folding chairs, and, of course, the piano bench where the two smallest have to sit and share the curved end of the table.

It’s supposed to be a nice meal.  The food is good.  There is an air of celebration. Things are going well.  Grandpa says, “Amen.”  You say, “Please pass the Jello salad.”  But then Uncle Herman says, “Can you believe those anti-family kooks up in Massachusetts, letting gay people get married?”  And your cousin Frank, who is still in the closet, looks intently at his mashed potatoes. Continue reading “Tension at the table” →

We are Each Other’s Bread and Wine
no. 4

by Gareth Brandt
Emmanuel Mennonite Church
bbotsford, British Columbia, Canada, November 11, 2007

 

1 Corinthians 11:17-34

On Remembrance Day in Canada, our country asks us to remember the sacrifice of soldiers who died and are dying in battle.  “Armistice Day” was the original name given to this national holiday that began in 1919 to remember the First World War as the “war to end all wars.”  Armistice is about the laying down of weapons.

Sadly, World War 1 was not the war to end all wars but the war that began the bloodiest century in the history of humankind.  Guns have not been laid down; rather, more sophisticated weaponry has been invented.  We have a day of remembrance, but it seems we have amnesia.  We forget and repeat the vicious cycles of violence all over again.

Without memory we are bound to repeat the mistakes of history.  Memory is also one of the primary handles we have for understanding the roots of our faith.  Though we experience faith in the present, those experiences are built on the foundation of memory.  Memory keeps the significance of past events relevant and meaningful for the present.
Continue reading “What do we remember?” →