Where Jesus is Found

“To take food as from the hand of Jesus after Easter is to receive from him the gift of his essential being–that presence of truth and acceptance before which we find again our lost selves. His food is the bread of life,’ and the bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh’ (John 6:51): to eat Jesus’ food is to recognize the gift of himself behind it, and so to eat his flesh. And John continues by having Jesus say: ‘Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you’ (6:53).” (Resurrection 101).

In his final chapter, Williams urges us to think of the Eucharist as the experience of Jesus’ sacrifice and forgiveness as it impacts our own lives. The bread and the wine are gifts, as Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection are gifts of God’s forgiveness and reconciliation to the world. The language is very complicated, but the experience of forgiveness and reconciliation is very physical to me.

I was confirmed in the Methodist church, although I did not grow up in liturgical churches. My tradition celebrated communion as a recollection of Jesus and the presence of Jesus at the moment of communion was not emphasized. But I remember my first communion as a confirmand as a vivid experience of being accepted and forgiven at the moment of receiving the bread and wine. Williams describes it as “that presence of truth and acceptance before which we find again our lost selves.”

Since I have been Episcopalian the Eucharist has become more emotional because of this “presence of truth and acceptance.” The hard insensitivity of my spirit often gets melted at the altar before I receive the bread and wine. I realize this is the one place I will be accepted regardless of my self-centeredness and stumbling, and that Jesus is ready to help rehabilitate me. Very little of this is conscious, it comes of faith that I am loved by others around me, but most of all by the grace of God.

So the strained language of chapter 5, trying to unite the facts of the empty tomb with the vibrant community inspired by the resurrection, makes my head swim with confusion. What constitutes the evidence of the resurrection seems less important to me than that I find forgiveness and possibility when I come to communion.

And what about my “lost self,” the part of me that has not yet gained traction and purpose? That missing identity pestered me in the reading of Chapter 4 and still troubles me now. Who will I be in the next moment, the next week, the next year, as my life pushes into retirement, as I form a new relationship, as I try to learn my mission after age 70?

I am trying to live in the “precious present,” trying less to understand and more to accept the gift of life offered by the resurrected Jesus. “Figuring out” is not life for me; accepting the gift, the bread of life, is my goal. My failure to “figure it out” has made my struggle with this book worse. My readiness to receive the gift of Jesus’ life can make it better.

So my take-away from these readings is to be less analytical and more receptive to what God wants to give me day by day. It is not a passive stance, but an awareness that reaches beyond introspection. It is less struggle and more openness. It is less about my powers and more about the grace of Jesus to affect me.  I close the book I have struggled with and await the Spirit to sift out what I need to know.

 

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