Sermon Tone Analysis

Introduction

We’re now well into our series on the practices that we engage in together as Christians.

We’ve looked at meeting together and singing together, and explored a bit about why and how we do that, and how it builds us all up.

And today we’re looking at Eating Together.

For a more typical church, this practice would not be anywhere near as high on the list as it is for Renew.

One of our distinctives is that we have made eating together a very regular practice.

I don’t need to persuade you as to its benefits, but we can explore why it’s such a potent practice for Christians, and perhaps look at some ways that we can make it even more our own and an even more powerful way for sharing the grace of God.

But first, let’s read the passage I’ve chosen as the primary passage for today.

Bible

The challenge of the parable

This is a challenging parable.

Anyone who thinks that Jesus is all sweetness and light has obviously never read this parable, which starts with a declaration that the kingdom of heaven is like this, and finishes with the bleak despair of hell and the stark proclamation that “many are called, but few are chosen.”

Ooof.

It is no coincidence that there is a feast at the centre of this story.

As the story makes clear, feasts cannot be dismissed as inconsequential, whether you feel entitled to them, or have them unexpected foisted on you.

In the story, the feast is clearly a great symbol and practice of unity, and when such unity is rejected, there are costs.

Even today, we can understand the social costs of despoiling a wedding party.

At the very least, you are most likely to permanently loose friends over such an action, if not worse.

How did feasts come to have this key place in society?

More central than dance or debate?

More unifying than trade or travel?

To understand that, we must look to the core building blocks of feasts, of shared meals: food and those who eat it.

And to understand those things, we must travel back to the beginning of time.

What is food?

Food is a gift from God.

In the very beginning he gave food to humanity.

Later, after the flood, God extended the range of things that human beings could eat:

In the Judea-Christian worldview, food is, and has always been, a generous gift from God.

How do other faiths view food?

This is in great contrast to all other worldviews.

In many traditional religions, food is central to human existence, but not because of our consumption, but because it is the role of human beings to produce food for the Gods.

It is human toil that produces food, and the primary recipients of that food are not the humans themselves, but the hungry Gods.

This was explicitly taught in ancient Mesopotamian myths, and is implicit in almost all world religions.

You are reminded of this constantly in Asian societies, with their ubiquitous shrines, constantly restocked with fresh food.

In contrast, the Jewish rituals of sacrifice were not to feed God, but rather to atone for their sins and to purify both them and the temple.

The Jewish sacrifices assured God’s ongoing presence with his people, while the pagan sacrifices appeased their Gods and kept them docile.

Even in our modern mythology, the theory of evolution, food represents something radically different.

In the theory of evolution, food is the domain of the brutal, fatal competition between individuals which leads to the survival only of the fittest.

Food is not a gift from a generous God, but a hard-won necessity that demonstrates my superiority to those less fit than me.

What does this do to the diners?

What do these different views of food do to we who eat it?

For those who hold to an evolutionary view, it is clear that extravagant diners are extravagant winners.

If we share food, it is most likely an indication that those we share with belong to our biological family—they carry our genes into the future.

Of course, since we humans are rational creatures, and not merely animals, we can use generosity to demonstrate our superiority.

For the evolutionist, there is no opportunity for humble gratitude at the meal table.

For those holding to traditional religions, diners have succeeded so greatly in their labours that they can eat from what is left over from the Gods.

Sharing food is, for them, an indication of wealth, wisdom, or great industry, and the sharer is right to be proud.

In fact, by partaking in another’s generosity, it is likely that you will then be obligated to them, and so they can build their power base even further by sharing their food.

For Jews and Christians, though, food is a gift, and so the appropriate response is gratitude.

Sharing food with others is then a natural outpouring of generosity from a grateful heart.

the one who shares is only passing on what was shared with them.

There is no way that an obligation can be due.

Grace

This, of course, is why we say grace before we eat.

We remind ourselves that the food we eat is not something we can take credit for.

Even if we have grown it ourselves (which in my childhood was often true in our family), or prepared it ourselves.

The source of our food is always God, and it is important to remind ourselves to be grateful for that.

When I was a child, we had two versions of grace in our house, and at every meal one or another of these would be said, depending on whose turn it was to say grace (we always sat at the same place, and grace rotated around the table clockwise, so everyone had a turn, once every two days).

When it was my parents’ turn, they would say:

For what we are about to receive,

May the Lord make us truly grateful.

Amen.

And when it was our turn, us children would say:

Thank you God for happy hearts,

Rain and sunny weather.

Thank you God for this good food,

and that we are together.

Amen.

I really like this prayer.

Yes, it is childlike.

But its list of simple gratitudes is so spot-on.

So:

What forms of grace have you used?

How Jesus ate with others

Now Jesus was, of course, aware of the gracious nature of food, and exhibited that grace in the way he shared his presence with others at feasts.

Jesus recognised that by coming into fellowship with others, he was lifting them up.

The Jews were accustomed to thinking that associating with dogs made you more dog-like.

Who is right?

Well, in a way, both are right.

What makes the difference is that Jesus is not just any Jew.

He is the son of God.

He is God himself.

And because Jesus is God, his presence makes others holy.

So it would seem to be unwise for us to eat with people who are of doubtful moral character, wouldn’t it?

And yet Jesus tells us to welcome strangers.

How can we eat with those who might be immoral if we can be made immoral by associating with them?

This conundrum is resolved by another act of eating.

One so important we have a whole sermon in this series devoted to it.

So I will only make one brief comment on this key act.

When Jesus told his followers to eat his flesh and drink his blood, he revealed the answer to our spiritual death.

Just as God gives us physical food to sustain our physical lives, he gives us spiritual food—Jesus—to sustain our spiritual lives.

When we share in this food, which we act out physically every time we take communion, we share in the spiritual life of Jesus.

Like any food, this transforms us—we become a part of God’s family.

When we share in the spiritual life of Jesus, we don’t need to worry about being made immoral by any association with others—Jesus’ blood not only protects us from corruption, it makes us contagiously holy, spreading holiness to those around us.

And so we are free to do as Jesus did, and go out into all the world, sharing the good news.

How we can eat with others

How then can we eat with others, and so share some part of Jesus’ love with them?

The first, and most obvious method, is to actually eat with others.

Share meals with workmates.

Have a coffee with an acquaintance.