One Bread, One Body

Grace to you and peace from our loving God, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, in the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Jesus said, "I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh."

…this text from John… is the basis for the "Invitation to Communion" that we have been using for most of the summer—"This is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world. Whoever eats this bread lives forever."

The immediate connections of this text to our lives are so clear as to be obvious. Jesus, by speaking of himself as bread, lets us know how essential it is to be in touch and in tune with him. There is a sustenance available through him that is life-giving in a way that is like food, but also far more powerful and important.

And by using this metaphor of bread, Jesus simultaneously points to that common food utilized in our liturgy as representative of his very presence—bread, along with wine.

Finally, Jesus connects this image of nourishment to eternal life. "The one who eats this bread will live forever." In other words, our connection to our Lord through communion, community, and faith establishes a relationship with the eternal that transcends our time-bound human life.

Those who share in the life of Christ, who share in the bread and wine of the Eucharist, do so in a way that moves beyond time and space.

I had a rather amazing experience of this during my vacation—this bridging of time and space… Marie and I traveled around Lake Michigan via the Mackinaw Bridge, across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and then into Wisconsin. We stayed at a cottage in Sturgeon Bay on the well-known Door County peninsula.

One day, we decided to drive up to the northern end of the peninsula and take a ferry across from there to Washington Island—well known for the smooth stones of its Schoolhouse Beach. We took the ferry without the car and rented bicycles. After a few miles, we stopped for some excellent Swedish pancakes and lingonberry sauce. Then we decided to take a side trip to Trinity Lutheran Church, the ELCA congregation on the island.

When we arrived there, we investigated another Scandinavian tradition—the Stavkirke—or Stave Church—which the members built beginning in October of 1991. Stave Churches, some of you will already know, are an ancient style of church architecture common in Norway during medieval times. This particular Stave Church, so named for the poles or "staves" (12 in number) that form the central supports, is modeled after the Borgund, Norway church built in 1150 A.D.

Well, we rode up to the front of the church, got off our bicycles, admired the dragonheads on the roof (there's an idea for our architect!), and entered the beautiful structure. Being a pastor, I wanted to explore the small chancel, and since we were the only people there, I strode up to the pulpit and then noticed some books in a shelf along the back wall. I pulled one off of the shelf, thinking it might be related to worship. I opened it to find that it was a guest book, and my eyes fell on a signature. "Bloomington, Indiana" someone had written there—on the page to which the book had first opened. There was a signature I couldn't read just above that, but nearby was one I could read. "Lynae Sowinski" was printed there. "Lynae Sowinski!" I yelled out at Marie. "I just opened this book, and here is Lynae Sowinski's signature, and it's dated August 8, 2002." We were in that church on August 9, 2006.  

As I said a prayer there for all of you and for the ministry challenges before us, I was warmed by the connections that exist among us regardless of how remote we may feel by virtue of distance or multiple legs of a journey. I mean, there I was, beyond the tip of a nearly 100-mile peninsula, after a ferry trip, and miles into a bicycle ride on an island in Lake Michigan looking at the name of a young woman from the congregation I serve in Bloomington, Indiana in a book stored in the place of Holy Communion.

Cool.

One bread. One body. Alive and palpable in ways that come upon us unexpectedly—in ways that will abide beyond the life that we know in our human bodies.

Last Sunday, my son Bryce and I attended Trinity Episcopal Church. I have been encouraged by some of you for quite some time to go hear Father Don preach. Many members of our two congregations have experience in both, and he and I enjoy our connectedness both by virtue of shared members and by virtue of the full communion status that exists between the Evangelical Lutheran Church in American and The Episcopal Church. We also knew one another and worked together during the time we served congregations in Indianapolis.

As I participated in worship and shuffled the bulletin, liturgical insert, announcement insert, Book of Common Prayer (for portions of the liturgy), and the hymnal (which had service music in the front and hymns in the back), I chuckled to myself remembering how we once did that in churches I have served. I wondered how they get away with making people shuffle all of those items. And I wondered how people did it; I am no stranger to liturgy, and I got lost several times.

And I thought how deeply we're connected. Especially as I went forward to kneel at the altar for communion—something I haven't done in a Lutheran Church for twenty years or so—I mused about the differences that still exist among Lutheran Churches with regard to how we understand and participate in liturgy and how strange what was once the norm seems now.

Those differences began to feel healthy to me. The reverence and humility of kneeling to receive the gifts of bread and wine—of Christ himself—was, while feeling dusty and a bit dark, still refreshing. It reminded me that grace is always a humbling reality. It is something that always comes to us, always something we receive—and well symbolized by a body that is folded and bowed.

And it made me more aware of the healthy emphasis of our liturgy. We stand in joy. We receive with head raised and an "Amen" on our lips. We join in a circle that puts us in view of so many others who are equally a part of this shared bread and body. We still receive rather than grasp, and we give physical witness to the whole circle of God's love extending throughout the globe of the earth.

One bread. One body. Even among denominations.

During the past week, I received notice via the internet that our national church has prepared bulletin inserts providing summaries of those denominations with which we share close relationships.

There are seven such inserts. One for the ELCA, one for each of the five denominations with which we stand in full communion, and one for the denomination with which we are observing a period of interim Eucharistic sharing. I'll see to it that copies are available to you.

I have mentioned them before, but the five full communion denominations are The Episcopal Church, the Moravian Church, The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), the Reformed Church in America, and the United Church of Christ. Full communion means that we mutually recognize our ministries and use of the means of grace as fully valid. We seek ways to cooperate in mission, and our pastors may serve congregations in any of the congregations of our partner denominations.

The denomination with which we are sharing the Eucharist during an interim time of conversation intended to lead toward full communion is The United Methodist Church. The meaning is simple. Congregants from both denominations are welcome at communion in the worship services of both.

These relationships among denominations too are visible signs of the unity that obtains among those who share in the bread of life. One bread. One body.

Jesus said, "I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh."

May we gratefully receive the living bread of our Lord this day. As we do so, may we remember our unity with all who share in communion with Christ. And may we find strength for a life of service—giving life in the world—through the assurance of salvation this meal provides. Amen.