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Food is life. Without food, we perish. We mark special occasions by eating together with family and friends. We are quick to talk about the pleasure of enjoying a well-prepared feast that tantalizes both the eye and the palate. Nothing is quicker to comfort, stronger to satisfy than a meal that evokes a heartfelt memory. None other than Jesus charged his disciples to remember him by eating and drinking so that they may share in his bodily experience of laying down his life for his friends. The bread becomes more than risen wheat; it becomes the risen life. The wine becomes more than aged grapes; it becomes an age-old covenant of forgiveness. But during this season of Lent, many will deprive themselves of the gastronomical delights. In observance of the sacrifices Jesus made on our behalf, we use this penitential time to start a new diet, give up chocolate or other sweets, or perhaps take a fast from our alcohol consumption. What used to be the ritual observance of “fish Fridays” for Roman Catholics has become culturally adapted to accommodate a much more subtle awareness of our own gluttony. The Lenten fast reminds us that everything we have comes from God, but it also reminds us that everything we take or hoard contributes to the poverty level that allows starvation to happen all around the world. So why is it that we come to this scripture reading talking about buying wine and milk without price, delighting in rich food, and being satisfied as with a rich feast? Is that just to tempt us to greater and more savory sins? Or is it to remind us of something deeper, something more intrinsic to the good news of the gospel? I think it’s the latter. There is incredibly good news in this text about God’s economy that promises enough for everyone and God’s willingness to abundantly pardon our sins and shortcomings. Everyone, everyone who thirsts, Isaiah tells us, is welcome to come to the waters. Those who have no money are bidden to come and buy wine and milk without price. In a dry and weary land, God’s steadfast love seems better than life, and our souls are satisfied in God’s goodness as with a rich feast. In recent years, the Lenten observance for me has become less about “giving up” and more about “giving over” to God’s ways of providing. For God’s ways are higher than our ways and God’s thoughts higher than our thoughts. God’s grace abounds even in the dryness, even in the barrenness, even in the times we are without money, or are spending our money and labor for that which does not satisfy. God breaks through our hunger and thirst and fills us with good things. I heard a story some time ago that touched my heart and reminded me yet again of how God breaks through our darkest moments to bear witness to the light that is life. A friend of a friend was pregnant with her second child. At about the fifth or sixth month, well into the pregnancy, the worst that could happen happened. This young woman and her husband were told by their physician that the baby was dead. The funeral for this baby nearly buried their hope. They were devastated, dry, and spiritually broke. After some weeks, they needed something to pull them out of their sullen spirits, so they made reservations at their favorite Italian restaurant. It was a night to remember – and to forget. They order appetizers, expensive entrees, more than one bottle of wine, and finished their grand meal with desserts and cappuccino. They didn’t worry about the cost. It was much more important to laugh again, to hope again, and to be a family again. But when the bill came, they received the biggest surprise of all, their bill had been paid in advance. What they didn’t know was that the husband’s boss had lost a child too, an infant who died from SIDS. He knew their pain, and met them in that pain. Shortly after discovering what had happened, he called their favorite restaurant. He told the restaurant owner, “No matter what they order, whenever they come in next, I want to pay the check.” The restaurant owner was quick to honor this request, for he too shared a similar grief and was delighted to bring this message of joy. The year before, his college-age son had been killed in an automobile accident. Mere coincidence? I don’t think so. God is the one orchestrating such events. For it is God who meets us in our deepest pain, and says, “Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Listen carefully to me, eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen so that you may live.” God offers this abundance to Israel not in a time of strength but when they are feeling weak and afraid. God will provide. God always has. God always will. I have been to the same Italian restaurant.. They serve extraordinary meals, but this particular meal truly embodied God’s love served to satisfy a hunger deeper than can be met even by the homemade manicotti and rum cake for dessert. This meal was communion: a common union these families shared in their deepest grief that can only be met by the beneficent and magnificent love of God. Our observance of Communion, our celebration of the Lord’s Day is met with the same pain and joy intermingled with one another. Jesus died so that we might live, and live not just from heartache to heartache, but live by knowing God’s true abundance. God’s word of joy goes out to all people, and it doesn’t come back empty. God’s word accomplishes its purposes and succeeds in its mission. Sometimes it takes our hands and our hearts to fulfill the intent, but the briars and thorns of life dare not have the final word. The final culmination of the Lenten season is not the hopelessness of Good Friday, but the ecstasy of Easter morning. Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Original text written by Kerra Becker English and published in The Abingdon Women’s Preaching Annual: Series 3, Year C. Edited by Bevery A. Zink-Sawyer. Abingdon Press: 2003. Pages 67-70. |