Everywhere The Feast

February 10, 2024 - Luke 24: 28-35

There is a moment when the disciples finally see Jesus—when the breaking of the bread opens their eyes, and everything makes sense.  Then, just as quickly as he appears, he vanishes. And they are left with the question: What now? In the favorite movie of my childhood, The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy, too, reaches the end of her journey. She has found everything she was looking for—only to be told that the Wizard cannot take her home. Glinda tells her the truth: You’ve had the power all along. And so do all of us.  We have the power to create a spiritual home – a place to deepen faith, proclaim peace, embrace community, welcome others, and serve our neighbors in the compassionate spirit of Jesus. 

We have the power to create communities of belonging.  We have the power to see the Spirit of the risen Christ in the eyes of a neighbor everytime we break bread – every time we set that table of welcome.  In The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy comes to understand that “there’s no place like home.” But home is not just Kansas. It is the people who have walked with her, the friendships that have shaped her, the love that calls her back. Dorothy would never have made it to the Emerald City alone. She only gets there because of the people she meets along the way—because of the friendships that form as they walk the road together.

This happens in real life. It’s not just a story.  Connection saves lives. I have seen it here at Highland Avenue.  I have seen it any place real community is made.  When we walk this journey of life together, even hardships are easier to bear. Cleopas and his friend walk the road to Emmaus in grief. They are lost and don’t know what to do next. The risen Christ walks beside them—not to do the work for them, but to teach them how to see. And when he disappears, they realize something: they are not alone. They never were. They turn around and go back to Jerusalem, together, sharing this good news of not ever being alone all along the way, saying, “We have seen him! We have known him in the breaking of the bread!” And in Jan Richardson’s words that we read together as the call to worship today, everywhere becomes the feast.

I am leaving you after today. Although I made this choice and look forward to the road ahead in my new role at PADS, it is also so very hard to leave this role as your pastor.  I will have some grief to process at the ending of this relationship that has been so meaningful to me.  I suspect you will too.  Any change brings the opportunity to experience grief.  That is a very normal human experience.  The good news is, like the disciples in the scripture story, and like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, none of us go alone. 

I go with God to a new professional role.  You go with God into a new territory of ministry.  You travel a road that is yours to map out together. You may find that the way you travel together next requires a little lighter packing. You may need to let some things go and decide together what you simply must take with you.  You will have staffing questions. You will have building questions.  But the church is not a pastor. And the church is not a building. The church is a group of people who welcome each other who become a kind of home for each other, who sing songs and ask questions and serve our neighbors and break bread together in ways that make it clear that the Loving Spirit of Christ is still alive and at work right here with us. 

When I suggested to my kids that we take a picture of the Thompson four somewhere at church today, they said, well, it’s got to be in front of the rainbow bench. That’s the symbol they understand as the best representative of the wide, Christ-like welcome you create together.  You have shown them how to set a wide and widening table, where everyone belongs and where we all know about our unbreakable connection to God and to each other.  In these days and times, it might seem indeed like defying gravity, trying to overcome cultural division, isolation, and even despair to create community where we can all feel safe enough to seek support, to be of service, and to ask our burning questions about life and faith. 

But I really believe that your potential together remains unlimited. I don’t mean to say you can ignore the real limits of not having enough time or money to do all the things you’d like to do together as a church or in the world. What I mean is, I have every confidence that no matter what changes at this church, if you keep before you that vital priority of being a welcoming spiritual home for each other and all those who need it, then you will continue to know the unspeakable beauty of the risen Christ in your midst whenever and however you gather.  You may even find that as things change, some of the changes are good and welcome. You may even find that some of the new ways of doing things are even better and maybe could only have been done after the old ways of doing things stopped - no matter how much we loved them. 

This community—the one you build together—is not just a place.  It is not just a sanctuary or a gathering on Sunday. It is a people. It has never depended on a pastor but rather on all of you and the stirring of the risen Christ among you.  Just like Dorothy experienced home in her quirky traveling band of friends, and just like those journeying disciples experienced the risen Christ when he took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and shared it with them, so too, will you continue to experience a spiritual home when you gather together around a table of welcome, seeking respite from life’s journey.

You, too, will find, that the table will be wide. And the welcome will be wide. And the arms will open wide to gather us in. And our hearts will open wide to receive. And we will come as children who trust there is enough. And we will come unhindered and free. And our aching will be met with bread. And our sorrow will be met with wine. And we will open our hands to the feast without shame. And we will turn toward each other without fear. And we will give up our appetite for despair. And we will taste and know of delight. And we will become bread for a hungering world. And we will become drink for those who thirst. And the blessed will become the blessing. And everywhere will be the feast.

Thanks be to God. That it is so. Amen.