Isaiah 9:1-7 · To Us a Child is Born
Seeing Is Believing
Isaiah 9:2 · John 1:14-18
Sermon
by Will Willimon
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"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light." Isaiah 9:2

Don't tell me, show me," we say. Actions speak louder than words. I know people who, less than a month from now, who will spend good money on a dozen red roses, when a quick three-word note could be cheaper. God knows this. In the Bible, God not only says, "I love you," through the words of the law, the prophets, the sermons of Jesus, the letters of Paul. God's love is also demonstrated through signs. "And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger" (Luke 2:12).

A flag, a handshake, a kiss, a cross, a wedding ring, a loaf of bread, a chalice of wine -- all are signs which say more than words can express. A symbol opens up a level of reality for which non­ symbolic speaking is inadequate. There is no other way to say what a symbol expresses except to refer to the symbol. Try to explain a beautiful painting you have seen to someone who has never seen it. Try to make someone else feel what you felt when you saw a movie last night without his or her having seen it. It is difficult.

Unfortunately, in our abstracted, verbal, word-oriented culture, we often overlook the power of the symbolic. Sometimes Protestants say, "The bread and wine of Holy Communion is only a symbol of Christ." Only a symbol? Talk of this kind implies that there is something more than the symbolic -- namely, the verbal or the literal. But the point I am trying to make is the literal and the verbal are not more than the symbolic, but less. It would be more accurate to say that something was only a word, for words are often intangible, abstract, vague, and generalized.

That lump in your throat when you see our country's flag go by in a parade, what you feel when you look at your wedding ring, the cross which stands atop your church's steeple, or, for that matter, a Nazi swastika or a Ku Klux Klan burning cross -- can you honestly say these are merely symbols?

It is part of the nature of symbols that they are transparent, they evoke reality, open it up to us, make it accessible.

Jesus himself is the supreme, visible, tangible symbol which expresses and reveals God's love:

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth; we have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father...And from his fullness have we all received, grace upon grace...No one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, he has made him known. --John 1:14-18

Sometimes we get confused into thinking that Christianity is a spiritual religion, as if our faith is mostly a matter of ethereal, intangible, otherworldly things. Nothing could be further from the faith of Jesus.

Jesus took the stuff of everyday life -- coins, mustard seeds, water, bread wine -- and used them to help us see the presence of God in our midst. Jesus himself was God "in the flesh." By his very presence, Jesus witnessed to a God who, in God's great love, chose to use earthly, physical objects and actions to reveal himself. John Calvin once said that God never forgets that we are creatures and so uses creaturely things through which to love us.

One of the main differences between Christianity and the world's other great religions is its view of material things. Archbishop Temple said that Christianity is "the most avowedly materialistic of all the great religions.'' The difference between Christianity and religions which have no incarnation is the difference between receiving a letter from someone you love and have the loved one embrace you. Every time we look at Jesus we are reminded: Our God did not simply write a letter or send a sermon; our God got into the drama of salvation. Our God was not content to remain aloof, off in the clouds somewhere; but came in the flesh, in a manger, in a young Jew from Nazareth, on a cross.

Some people look for a religion which is invisible, angelic, spiritual, and ethereal, untouched by human hands and mother earth. There may be such a religion, but Christianity is not it. We cannot separate body from soul, sex from love, job from vocation, earth from heaven, or money from religion. "God likes matter; he invented it," said C.S. Lewis.

Thank God! For we are men and women, flesh and blood.  We live here, on earth, not in some spiritual Shangri-la in the clouds. Here, with junior's spilled cereal and with a cancer that will not heal, and pain that will not go away, and with gnawing hunger and parched lips. This is where we live. And this is where, as the Bible tells Jesus' story, God meets us.

Israel had always seen food as a gift of God. Thus the Jews gave thanks before meals. Israel's God is the God who gave food in the wilderness (Exod. 16) and water from the rock (Exod. 17) so that the chosen people might not perish. The ravens bring Elijah food so that God's fearless prophet was saved (1 Kings 17:6). Here is a God who "satisfies him who is thirsty, and the hungry he fills with good things" (Psalm 107:9). In a land of abundant food, we tend to forget that food itself is one of the most basic, most ever­ present signs of God's self-giving love. "O taste and see that the Lord is good!" says the psalmist (34:8).

How typical of Jesus, when he came to the end of his earthly ministry, to take one of the most simple and ordinary of human experiences -- sharing food together in a common meal -- and celebrate it as a symbol of his whole life and work. Not only that meal in the upper room, but also every meal which Jesus ate with his disciples, was a sign of Jesus' presence here among us. At all of these meals when "he was at table with them," Jesus was doing with his disciples what he did with them throughout his ministry, giving himself to them in order that they might experience the near love of God and be empowered to do God's will.

The Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, "This is my body which is broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me." -- I Corinthians 11: 23b-24

Certainly Christ is always and everywhere present in the world But he is particularly, intimately present to us in Holy Communion. If he were simply contained in every rock, tree, and glade, as a pantheist might claim, then it would make no sense to talk about his "presence" anywhere. One does not speak of the presence of oxygen. A fish isn't impressed by the presence of water.

While God is universally present at all times and places, it is important not to let our experiences of God's particular presence get swallowed up in that universal presence. We would never experience the universal presence of Christ if we were not pointed to it by a multitude of particular presences -- those moments and places in life when Christ seems particularly close with an undeniable intensity. It is part of our human need to seek some ark, some tabernacle, some holy of holies, some point of meeting where God is experienced with definiteness and intensity. And so we are pointed to things, things like the Bible and bread and wine and water and the church, and we are invited to experience these as indications, illuminations, catalysts of Christ's presence. This is the way we can speak of Christ as present in the Lord's Supper.

Leo the Great once said of the bread of the Lord's Supper that it "makes conspicuous" Christ's presence among us. Without that bread and wine, without that gathered congregation and its prayers, without that sermon and the eating and drinking, we might be blind to that presence.

On the night in which he was betrayed and given up to death, Jesus took bread and blessed it, broke it, and gave it to his disciples. He blessed Bread, one of the most basic of all God's gifts and human creations. Before the bread, there had been seed, scattered across some hillside. The fields were plowed. The rains watered. The soil fertilized and tilled and nurtured until the wheat was brought to full growth. Then it was harvested, gathered, and ground into flour. The flour was mixed with shortening, salt, yeast and milk. It became batter, then dough; then the dough was kneaded and shaped into loaves where it was allowed to rise. Then it was baked.

All of this -- the soil, the farmer, the sower, the miller, the baker, the earthly, the corporeal, the commercial, the creaturely, the mundane stuff of everyday life -- all of this was blessed. All of this was claimed by Christ as part of the love of God. All became sacramental.

Never again, after that blessing, can we look upon a field of grain or a loaf of communion bread or a slice of breakfast toast in the same casual way as before. Seeing is believing.

Duke University, Duke Chapel Sermons, by Will Willimon