THE GOSPEL IN THE SUPPER
Sermon
A Meal For The Road
14 Sermons On The Lord's Supper
John Calvin said that the true church is where the gospel is
faithfully preached and the sacraments faithfully administered.
This was in an age when the Western Church had come to think of
itself in many more complex and political ways. The church, it
was said, is wherever allegiance is given to Peter's successor in
Rome; wherever daily mass is said by priests in the apostolic
succession; and where adherents practice many rules and
observances. The church for them was a power-broker, defining
kingdoms and crowning monarchs.
Luther recognized, through his study of the New Testament,
that what was meant to be a servant-church had become the master
and political church, and that the gospel in all its simplicity,
had been obscured in the process. He set out, against all odds,
to preach again salvation by grace through faith.
Jesus anticipated that the gospel, born of atoning sacrifice
and suffering service, might be obscured by future generations,
so he encased it in a sacrament that he mandated should be
repeated often "in remembrance" of him. The bread was to be for
us his "body broken," and the wine his "blood shed." How simple
and yet how profound. "As by one man's
33
disobedience many were made sinners, so by one man's obedience
many shall be saved," Paul was later to write, using an analogy
that we can all comprehend. (Romans 5:19) That, in its simplest
form, is the gospel!
Even during Paul's lifetime it apparently began to be lost.
"Some preach Christ out of rivalry," Paul observed, (Philippians
1:17) meaning that for some preachers the desire to outshine
other preachers became more important than the proclamation. And
that was happening within a generation of Jesus' atoning death!
What are some of the "passionless" gospels that are being
preached in our own generation? They include the gospels of
personal poise and prosperity -- popular psychology beefed up
with biblical references; telling us how to be greedy without
feeling guilty, and that there's nothing wrong with a lifestyle
that puts "me first."
It is more than coincidence that in the mega-churches and
pseudo-churches of cable television, where such themes are
presented, the sacrament of communion is rarely mentioned or
observed. What do you do with a gospel that bespeaks a body
broken for us and blood shed for us; that calls for death to self
and new life in a Savior with nail prints on his hands? What do
you do with a Savior who calls for his followers to take up their
crosses and follow him, (Matthew 16:24) and who says that he who
seeks his life will lose it? (Matthew 10:39)
A short time ago an article appeared in a denominational
magazine that purported to define a gospel that embraces the best
aspects of liberalism, fundamentalism, ecumenism, conservativism,
etc. But in the process of describing "what Reformed theology is
all about," the clergy author made barely any reference to the
cross and only a passing reference to Savior and salvation. We
are told that Christ died "but" was raised, as if the only value
of the cross is to set the stage for Jesus' resurrection. In
other words, in his eagerness to move to the celebrative aspects
of the Christian life, the writer has made a postscript of the
apex of our Lord's obedience, his redemptive submission to death
on a cross. It is no coincidence that
34
this purported summary of Reformed theology included no reference
at all to the sacraments. The words of institution of the Supper
-- "body broken," "blood shed," "covenant sealed in my blood" --
are difficult to blend with a gospel that bypasses the cross on
its path from Christmas to Easter and Pentecost.
Emil Brunner, late Swiss Reformed theologian, in public
lecture in 1955, stressed how critical the crucifixion is for the
gospel to be the gospel. "God goes to a cross and tells us that
we may leave our sins there. The cross reveals the breadth of
God's love and the depth of our waywardness," he said.
Brunner went on to say that at the foot of the cross you and I
can be freed from the tentacles of a guilty past. In the context
of Paul's words about Jesus' redemptive obedience, I understand
this to mean that the ultimate Judge tells me that when Jesus
stands with me at the place of assize, his merits attach to me
and more than make up for the ways I've disappointed the God of
high hopes. Now I am judged not on my own record but on Christ's,
to whose hand I cling. He was as obedient as I was disobedient,
and God is willing to attribute Jesus' merits to me. "God annuls
our past in order to free us from its guilty burden and give us
true presence in his love. That is what the cross achieves for
us," Brunner said.
Another 20th century theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, martyred
for his faith, warned against a "cheap grace." That is, a gospel
that ignores Jesus' cross and ours; one that welcomes the fruits
of salvation without understanding and appreciating the
redemptive obedience demonstrated by Christ and the suffering
service to which he calls us today. That may not be a message
that readily attracts the masses, but it is the gospel of the
cross. Paul resolved "to preach nothing ... except Jesus Christ,
and him crucified," though it was "a stumbling block to the Jews
and folly to Gentiles." (1 Corinthians 2:2, 1:23)
Yes, there is a new covenant centered in grace, not law.
Responding to it, embracing it, does indeed elicit praise, but we
must never forget that it is, as Jesus said at the Last Supper, a
covenant "sealed in my blood." (Matthew 26:28)
Alan Paton has a character in one of his South African novels
say as he is about to enter heaven, "I hate the thought that I
might come to some final judgment and be asked 'Where are your
wounds?' and have nothing to show." We don't do Christians today
a favor by presenting Christ without his cross and a Christian
life that gets us to Easter and Pentecost without calling us to
travel the Via Dolorosa.
In some churches there is the practice of asking those
assembled for communion to hold the small glass of juice in their
hands until everyone has received, and then partake together "as
a sign of our unity in Christ." Have you ever noticed how the
tiny glass of red liquid pulsates with every beat of your heart?
For me it becomes a moment to contemplate the heart of Jesus that
beats through my heart. This is one of the true miracles of being
"in Christ," as Paul puts it. (Colossians 1:27) His life
continues, in part, in my life -- "joint heirs with Christ, if
indeed we suffer with him." (Romans 8:17) It reminds me, also, of
the cost of my salvation.
The Lord's Supper words of institution militate against a
euphoric gospel that downplays the suffering that was endured for
us and the suffering service "to the least of these" to which we
are called in Matthew 25.
A eucharistic prayer of thanksgiving from the old Presbyterian
Book of Common Worship speaks of Jesus who "took our nature upon
him, to suffer death upon the cross for our redemption," making
"a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice for the sins of the
whole world." It calls upon us "to present ourselves ... to be a
reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice."
These are the themes that will never be lost as long as we are
truly "present" at the Table of our Lord and hear again his
words, "Take, eat; this is my body broken for you," and "This is
the cup of the new covenant sealed in my blood. Drink of it, all
of you." (Matthew 26:26-28)
36
faithfully preached and the sacraments faithfully administered.
This was in an age when the Western Church had come to think of
itself in many more complex and political ways. The church, it
was said, is wherever allegiance is given to Peter's successor in
Rome; wherever daily mass is said by priests in the apostolic
succession; and where adherents practice many rules and
observances. The church for them was a power-broker, defining
kingdoms and crowning monarchs.
Luther recognized, through his study of the New Testament,
that what was meant to be a servant-church had become the master
and political church, and that the gospel in all its simplicity,
had been obscured in the process. He set out, against all odds,
to preach again salvation by grace through faith.
Jesus anticipated that the gospel, born of atoning sacrifice
and suffering service, might be obscured by future generations,
so he encased it in a sacrament that he mandated should be
repeated often "in remembrance" of him. The bread was to be for
us his "body broken," and the wine his "blood shed." How simple
and yet how profound. "As by one man's
33
disobedience many were made sinners, so by one man's obedience
many shall be saved," Paul was later to write, using an analogy
that we can all comprehend. (Romans 5:19) That, in its simplest
form, is the gospel!
Even during Paul's lifetime it apparently began to be lost.
"Some preach Christ out of rivalry," Paul observed, (Philippians
1:17) meaning that for some preachers the desire to outshine
other preachers became more important than the proclamation. And
that was happening within a generation of Jesus' atoning death!
What are some of the "passionless" gospels that are being
preached in our own generation? They include the gospels of
personal poise and prosperity -- popular psychology beefed up
with biblical references; telling us how to be greedy without
feeling guilty, and that there's nothing wrong with a lifestyle
that puts "me first."
It is more than coincidence that in the mega-churches and
pseudo-churches of cable television, where such themes are
presented, the sacrament of communion is rarely mentioned or
observed. What do you do with a gospel that bespeaks a body
broken for us and blood shed for us; that calls for death to self
and new life in a Savior with nail prints on his hands? What do
you do with a Savior who calls for his followers to take up their
crosses and follow him, (Matthew 16:24) and who says that he who
seeks his life will lose it? (Matthew 10:39)
A short time ago an article appeared in a denominational
magazine that purported to define a gospel that embraces the best
aspects of liberalism, fundamentalism, ecumenism, conservativism,
etc. But in the process of describing "what Reformed theology is
all about," the clergy author made barely any reference to the
cross and only a passing reference to Savior and salvation. We
are told that Christ died "but" was raised, as if the only value
of the cross is to set the stage for Jesus' resurrection. In
other words, in his eagerness to move to the celebrative aspects
of the Christian life, the writer has made a postscript of the
apex of our Lord's obedience, his redemptive submission to death
on a cross. It is no coincidence that
34
this purported summary of Reformed theology included no reference
at all to the sacraments. The words of institution of the Supper
-- "body broken," "blood shed," "covenant sealed in my blood" --
are difficult to blend with a gospel that bypasses the cross on
its path from Christmas to Easter and Pentecost.
Emil Brunner, late Swiss Reformed theologian, in public
lecture in 1955, stressed how critical the crucifixion is for the
gospel to be the gospel. "God goes to a cross and tells us that
we may leave our sins there. The cross reveals the breadth of
God's love and the depth of our waywardness," he said.
Brunner went on to say that at the foot of the cross you and I
can be freed from the tentacles of a guilty past. In the context
of Paul's words about Jesus' redemptive obedience, I understand
this to mean that the ultimate Judge tells me that when Jesus
stands with me at the place of assize, his merits attach to me
and more than make up for the ways I've disappointed the God of
high hopes. Now I am judged not on my own record but on Christ's,
to whose hand I cling. He was as obedient as I was disobedient,
and God is willing to attribute Jesus' merits to me. "God annuls
our past in order to free us from its guilty burden and give us
true presence in his love. That is what the cross achieves for
us," Brunner said.
Another 20th century theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, martyred
for his faith, warned against a "cheap grace." That is, a gospel
that ignores Jesus' cross and ours; one that welcomes the fruits
of salvation without understanding and appreciating the
redemptive obedience demonstrated by Christ and the suffering
service to which he calls us today. That may not be a message
that readily attracts the masses, but it is the gospel of the
cross. Paul resolved "to preach nothing ... except Jesus Christ,
and him crucified," though it was "a stumbling block to the Jews
and folly to Gentiles." (1 Corinthians 2:2, 1:23)
Yes, there is a new covenant centered in grace, not law.
Responding to it, embracing it, does indeed elicit praise, but we
must never forget that it is, as Jesus said at the Last Supper, a
covenant "sealed in my blood." (Matthew 26:28)
Alan Paton has a character in one of his South African novels
say as he is about to enter heaven, "I hate the thought that I
might come to some final judgment and be asked 'Where are your
wounds?' and have nothing to show." We don't do Christians today
a favor by presenting Christ without his cross and a Christian
life that gets us to Easter and Pentecost without calling us to
travel the Via Dolorosa.
In some churches there is the practice of asking those
assembled for communion to hold the small glass of juice in their
hands until everyone has received, and then partake together "as
a sign of our unity in Christ." Have you ever noticed how the
tiny glass of red liquid pulsates with every beat of your heart?
For me it becomes a moment to contemplate the heart of Jesus that
beats through my heart. This is one of the true miracles of being
"in Christ," as Paul puts it. (Colossians 1:27) His life
continues, in part, in my life -- "joint heirs with Christ, if
indeed we suffer with him." (Romans 8:17) It reminds me, also, of
the cost of my salvation.
The Lord's Supper words of institution militate against a
euphoric gospel that downplays the suffering that was endured for
us and the suffering service "to the least of these" to which we
are called in Matthew 25.
A eucharistic prayer of thanksgiving from the old Presbyterian
Book of Common Worship speaks of Jesus who "took our nature upon
him, to suffer death upon the cross for our redemption," making
"a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice for the sins of the
whole world." It calls upon us "to present ourselves ... to be a
reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice."
These are the themes that will never be lost as long as we are
truly "present" at the Table of our Lord and hear again his
words, "Take, eat; this is my body broken for you," and "This is
the cup of the new covenant sealed in my blood. Drink of it, all
of you." (Matthew 26:26-28)
36
