Chosen, Blessed, Broken, Given

 

While they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.”

Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.

I tell you, I will never again drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.”

 Matthew 26:26-29 NRSVue

This is one of two scripture passages I'll be reading in worship this morning, a Sunday on which we'll be celebrating the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, or Communion. 

Now let me share what happened yesterday. I discovered the binder of notes from from the Spiritual Direction leaders program I entered into in 1990 when I was in my mid-30s. I wasn't looking for them, I haven't seen them in years, and the binder was disintegrating in my hands.

This program began with a week-long residency involving several guests, including the late Christian theologian and mystic, Henri Nouwen. He had been a theological superstar, teaching at prestigious universities and writing popular books including The Wounded Healer but he left this behind to work in a L'Arche community. 

The day Nouwen came to us I ended up sharing lunch with him, one on one, a meaningful conversation. In my point-form jottings from that day I see that Nouwen reflected that during this last meal with his disciples a) Jesus took the bread b) Blessed it c) Broke it d) Gave it.

He went on to say that all of us are taken, or chosen by God. We are all blessed, whether we realize it or not. We are broken in some way, but we can still live out God's blessing. Then we can be a gift to the world in the name of Jesus.

Then I wrote in capital letters and with a star:

WHEN WE KNOW WHO WE ARE, WE WILL FIND OUR NEIGHBOURS , OUR NEIGHBOURS ARE IN THE HEART OF GOD. 

This is still a powerful message in a world that seems more fractured day by day. 

The discovery of these notes seemed almost providential, and then  a random tweet told me that yesterday was the anniversary of the untimely heart attack death of Henri Nouwen in 1996. He was en route to see the Prodigal Son painting by Rembrandt housed in the Hermitage in Moscow. 

Holey Moley! I'm just reading scripture this morning but I'm primed for the sermon!