Catholic Contextual urban Theology, Mimetic Theory, Contemplative Prayer. And other random ramblings.

Sunday, 26 July 2015

Sermon at Parish Mass Trinity 8 2015


2 Kings 4.42-44
Ephesians 2:3:14-21
John 6.1-21

Tabgha is a beautiful place. Located on the north shore of the lake of Galilee, a Benedictine monastery nestles in acres of lush tropical gardens, filled with bougainvillea and hibiscus blooms, shaded by stately trees, watered by clear springs that come bubbling up from the ground.
It wasn’t always like that. Until the 1930s it was a wild bit of scrubland, visited perhaps by the occasional lonely goatherd but no-one else. Then the German Benedictines bought the site to turn it into a place of prayer and study. But when they were digging for the foundations they were astounded to find a large intact mosaic floor, amid the remains of an ancient building.
By chance or by providence, the Benedictines had found the long lost Church of the Multiplication, built when the Romans still ruled Palestine to commemorate the feeding of the five thousand, the episode in the Gospels that we have just heard. Today a plain modern church stands on those ancient foundations, and pilgrims are welcomed from all over the world.
But there is something odd about the Church. It is in the wrong place. It’s less than a mile from the site of Capernaum, at the time of the Romans a major town and fishing port on the lakeside. It’s also right beside something else that the Benedictines found buried under their field – a major road, nothing less than the “Way of the Sea”, the ancient trade route that once linked the north and south of the Mediterranean world.
The Gospels say that the feeding of the five thousand happened in a remote place, nowhere near a town or a road. That’s why there was a crisis about feeding the people. The Romans who built the church must have known this. So why did they build it there?
The answer, I think, lies in the story itself, in the Gospels. In John’s account, which we heard today, the focus is more on Jesus and his intentions. But in Mark we see more the reaction of the disciples. They look at the crowd of people and say, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now very late; send them away so that they may go… and buy something for themselves to eat.”
The disciples have a problem, and they want to send the people away because they think the solution lies elsewhere. But Jesus shows them that they are to feed the people right there, where they are. The people are in the right place for Jesus to act, but the disciples want them to be somewhere else. They need to learn that their task is to minister to the people where the people are.
So when the Romans came to build the church that commemorated this miracle three hundred years later, they didn’t build it in the remote place where it had happened, where there was no-one. Instead, they built it where the people were, by the town, next to the highway, possibly the busiest place on the lake.
But there is another odd thing about the Church of the Multiplication. It is a detail in the mosaic of the loaves and fishes. There are two fishes, to be sure. But how many loaves are there? Well, there are four. All the gospels say that there were five loaves. So where’s the other one?
Well this isn’t a mistake. That mosaic is right in front of the altar used to celebrate the Eucharist. And the fifth loaf is on the altar, and on every altar where the Eucharist is celebrated, in every church in the world. Because the feeding of the multitude continues. In the Eucharist Jesus feeds us with himself, the living bread. He is never diminished, there is always enough to feed everyone.
For Christians from the beginning the connection between the feeding of the five thousand and the Eucharist was obvious. The language in the Greek texts of the gospels is full of Eucharistic overtones. The mosaic in the Church of the Multiplication confirms this.
Jesus longs to give his life so that all may live, and he has founded his Church to be the means through which that life flows out to the world, to the vast multitude of humanity, in every time and place.
So there are two things to take away from today’s Gospel reading: the Church needs to be where the people are, and the Eucharist is the heart of the Church’s life and mission.
The Church of England historically has been quite good at being where the people are. Everyone lives in a parish and has a parish church that they can go to. But the fact is today that most people don’t. The population of our parish is about 6,000 and if just two percent of them turned up on a Sunday morning it would be standing room only.
The Church of England also recognizes that the Eucharist is at the heart of our mission. By Canon Law, there must be a celebration of the Eucharist in every parish on every Sunday. That’s why our Sunday service is called the “Parish Mass” – it’s the celebration required by law for the parish.
But most of the parish are not here. That is why we need to reimagine our presence with and for the people, for the needs of our own day. So alongside traditional parishes the Church is encouraging fresh expressions and missional communities, to be more deliberately out there with the people, reaching out to those who are not yet attracted by traditional forms of worship.
And traditional parishes like ours are very good at welcoming people. But we also need to be intentional in reaching out and inviting people. We do that in various ways, for example by leafleting the parish before Christmas and Easter. But we also need to do it personally. We are all ambassadors for Jesus Christ! This year “Back to Church Sunday” falls on 20 September. What would it be like if every one of us here invited one person we know to come with us to church on that day?
Now we’re all Church of England, and we’re rightly wary of the kind of forced awkwardness of missionaries ringing people’s doorbells to try to turn everyone else into copies of themselves.  But that’s not the idea. A real invitation respects the person being invited. And friendship makes invitation easier. If we are known to be Christians in our daily lives, then faith will crop up in our conversations with our friends, quite naturally. And it should be natural for us, as ambassadors for Jesus Christ, to respond to interest with invitation. “Come and see”, said Philip to Nathanael in John’s Gospel. And another disciple was won for Christ.
The commandment of Christ, the mission we have received, is always urging the church onwards. We can never be content to stand still. Part of that mission is to do this, to celebrate the Mass, in memory of him, and we do, and will continue to do so. But we are also to be present in the world to make new disciples, to bring new people to the fullness of the life of Christ that he longs to share with all.

That is what we are called to, every one of us. Rooted in the Eucharist, present in the world, both welcoming and inviting those who have not yet discovered the rich feast that Jesus gives, the bread of life, his flesh for the life of the world.

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