The Air We Breathe

A sermon by Pastor Katie Shaw Thompson from October 3, 2020 based on Matthew 21: 33-46

In Matthew 26, just a few chapters after the parable Josh read for us today, we find Jesus setting out the practice of communion for his followers. The actions are the same as I use when offering the words of institution when we have taken communion here together in this church two millenia later. The scripture tells us Jesus took the bread, blessed it, broke it and shared it with his disciples, telling them, “Take. Eat. This is my body.” 

In our tradition, this practice is considered an ordinance, which is to say we find it layed out in scripture and we physically enact it still today as a means of patterning our lives in the way of Jesus. We believe something special and sacred may well happen during the moments we enact this practice,and also, we believe something special and sacred may well happen in any other moment in which we draw breath. 

Drawing breath has been something most of us have been able to take for granted most of our lives.If our respiratory system is functioning typically, breathing is an involuntary and instinctual act. As we live through a respiratory-virus-caused global pandemic though, the act of breathing has become a topic of heightened attention. 

I was telling some friends recently how this pandemic has made it clear to me just how disgusting humans are. It’s been impressed upon me in new ways how we’re all walking around with a bubble of germs and getting them all over each other. In this case, we’ve spread these germs all over the globe! 

Both of my friends responded in a way that struck me as such wisdom. What had been impressed upon them during this time was the undeniable nature of our connection with each other. From our next door neighbors to our global neighbors, what effects one of us effects us all. The way this virus has spread had made even more clear to them that we are all connected through the very air we breathe. 

That struck me as a profound experience of communion--to consider how we humans, each and every one of us, are connected through this essential act of breathing within this shared bubble of earth’s atmosphere. Through that act we are connected to all those who have breathed on this planet before us and all who will breathe on this planet after us. Through that act, I believe, we are connected to the Holy Spirit, who moved over the waters in the breath that spoke life into being in the Genesis story, and who swept into the room in new and inspiring ways in the Pentecost moment experienced by the early church. 

We are not able to meet in-person together today to break bread on this World Communion Sunday. So, instead, I invite us, in this way, to view the very act of breathing as a holy communion of air. 

As we don masks, keep our distance from each other, and change our habits in response to the pandemic, many of us have been carefully considering where, how, and with whom we spend our breath. As news stories of people of color experiencing violence at the hands of police forces across the country have heightened public awareness of how far we are as a society from ensuring each and every person’s right to breathe, many of us have been carefully considering where, how, and with whom we spend our breath.  For many of us, this pandemic time has brought us a new invitation to re-think what really matters and how to bring forth the lives and communities we want to share.

I hear Jesus’ words in today’s scripture speaking into this moment when he quotes the Psalms to describe the way the powers that be will fail to hold his life and breath as sacred, and how despite their violent disregard his life and message will live on and on. After another challenging vineyard parable, he tells his listeners, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”

What parts of ourselves and parts of our world that have also been rejected are now too rising up to lead us into a brand new day? 

I think every time we refuse to cooperate with conditions that hurt whole groups of people in our world, we are keeping the central things central. I think every time we refuse to cooperate with conditions that hurt the parts of our own minds, bodies, and souls that don’t fit into some preconceived mold, we are keeping the central things central. 

I think keeping the central things central means keeping a healthy connection between the ways we live out the truth of God’s love for us and the ways we live out the truth of God’s love for everyone else. Because for me, the love of God that Jesus embodied is central. It is the cornerstone on which I seek to build my own life and on which I seek to build the sacred web of connections of which I am a part. I believe that when we keep that love central we will bear the fruits of the kin-dom so tragically missing in the lives of the vineyard tenants from today’s story. 

When asked to share the fruits of the harvest they responded with violence. They kept for themselves something that was never theirs in the first place. Jesus used this story to illustrate the violence that was to befall him, comparing the murderous tenants to the chief priests and Pharisees so nakedly even they couldn’t help but see the resemblance. 

What about us? Do we see the resemblance? 

Just because we are beloved by God doesn’t mean we don’t mess up. We too are capable of rejecting, neglecting, and denying all that makes us uncomfortable, aren’t we? 

Very often though I have found that which we reject, neglect, and deny has a way of popping up from the sidelines and making itself central whether that be uncomfortable secrets, grudges we quietly keep, a neglected personal health concern, staggering income inequality in our communities, or any other problem we would rather not deal with. Sooner or later these pieces of our lives and our communities that have been ignored or suppressed will demand to be dealt with.

Because of that, I appreciate every time I find an example of another way of living that shares the best parts of this life with more justice and more joy centered. I found one again just last night on a bike ride with Elgin Community Bikes. 

The bike world is known for being made for the fittest and the fastest. That’s why the rides of this little group tend to surprise people for encouraging riders of a wide range of abilities to participate. There’s always a leader at the front  and one at the back to make sure no one gets left behind.  In fact, last night the leader at the back peeled off and stayed behind with someone whose health condition was presenting a problem and a different leader stepped up to care for the new back of the ride. 

It’s just a small way of imagining it, but I think that’s justice: when we all get a little more of what we need, whether what we need is attention, kindness, or care. 

I think that brings joy when we understand that we will be cared for and valued even if we aren’t the fittest, fastest, or most convenient to deal with on any given day.

In this time and every time, followers of Jesus are called to spend our breath on sharing the fruits of the kin-dom. If the world can be seen as an abundant harvest table, we are called to spread the fruits of the kin-dom wide across it, working for the good of each and every neighbor on this planet beside whom we draw breath.

  For the fruits of that holy kin-dom surely includeGod’s delightful justice and joy which we are invited to help create.

May we join in doing so. Amen. 

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