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'Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” He said these things while he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.

When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But among you there are some who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.”

Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”'

--John 6: 56-69

*This blog post is a copy of the final sermon I preached at St. James' in Skaneateles as Interim Rector.*

The people of St. James', Skaneateles at their Fourth of July Family BBQ.

How do you measure a year? I’m a theatre kid, so this part of the song, ‘Seasons of Love’ from the musical RENT, is one of my favorites. In daylights and sunsets? In midnights and cups of coffee? In contracts, dollars, and funerals, and births? I wonder what the St. James’ version of that song would be. In Rite I’s and Lakesides? In Prayer Teams and Table Top groups? In RJRC and community service? Liturgically speaking, today, the 14th Sunday after Pentecost, is exactly 525,600 minutes – one year – from the day I preached for the first time as your Interim Rector. What a difference a year can make!

I could stand here and rattle off all of the meaningful moments of this past year, all of the good work that you have done to get to this place, but you called me here first and foremost to preach the Gospel, and by God, that’s what I intend to do today. Fortunately, the wisdom of our lectionary shines through yet again, and we get a Gospel text worthy of such a moment in our common life together.

At long last we come to the end of Gluten-tide, to this four-week lecture series that Jesus has given us on the Bread of Life. We started with the feeding of the 5000 in Tabgha, then crossed the Sea of Galilee to Capernaum where the crowd tracked Jesus down wanting more bread, only for him to say that the real bread they were after was himself, the bread that came down heaven, and that in order to share with him they would need to share in his flesh, which is bread indeed, and his blood which is drink indeed. This is too hard, they grumble, who can understand or accept such a teaching. Well, Jesus tells them, you ain’t seen nothing yet; if these words offend you, then you got a whole other shock coming later because what will you think if you see me return to heaven? Folks start getting nervous, and wouldn’t you know who won the pony, most of them have the same reaction I suspect a good number of us might have: they done up and r-u-n-n-o-f-t! 

Why’s it gotta be so hard, this following Jesus thing? It’s hard because it’s hard. It challenges us because it’s supposed to challenge us. My father used to ride his bicycle cross-country, and even managed to connect enough dots to have ridden in all 48 continental states in a continuous loop. In his very first ride, though, with his pack loaded down on his bike, he came upon a really tough hill not far from our home on the Virginia-Kentucky border. An old man on the porch saw him and commented it was a nice day for a bike ride, to which my dad said, “Yeah, except for this hill.” The man didn’t miss a beat and told him, “If it weren’t for the hills, we’d all be biking.” It’s hard because it’s supposed to be.

And following Jesus ain’t no different. I heard a theologian once describe Christianity as the “anti-religion,” due to it being more concerned with the world we live in now than the one we’ll inherit later. This makes the Gospel pretty scandalous, pretty hard and challenging to actually put into practice. To pray for your enemies, that’s the Gospel, that’s scandalous. To cast down the mighty from their thrones and lift up the lowly, that’s the Gospel, that’s scandalous. To stand on the side of the crucified, on the side of the ones who are humiliated and ridiculed, scapegoated and demeaned, that’s the Gospel, that’s scandalous. To preach love in a world of hate, to give when it hurts not just when it’s comfortable, to take risks for the Kingdom that has, indeed, come near, that’s the Gospel, that’s scandalous. Not everyone is willing or able to accept such teachings. They’re hard because they’re supposed to be, and yes, sometimes, even offensive. A professor in seminary once told us that if we priests weren’t offending somebody we weren’t doing our jobs. I’d extend that invitation. If y’all are getting under somebody’s skin with your love, your witness, your passion for justice, your belief, nay, your certainty that all can be fed and cared for when we don’t let ourselves succumb to the Gospel of scarcity, then you’re doing something right. 

Not everyone can accept this, which is why an exasperated Jesus turns to the 12 and asks if they’re gonna r-u-n-n-o-f-t. But for once Peter gets it. “To whom can we go?” he asks rhetorically. “You alone have the words of eternal life.” To whom can we go? To whom can any of us go but to Jesus?! Our flag decals won’t get us into heaven anymore, and our favorite sportsball teams won’t fulfill our greatest needs – believe me, I know, I’m a Cleveland fan! But there is only Jesus who has the words of eternal life, which, of course, is not just for the eternity that waits for us when we die, but the eternity that starts right here and now, that you and I are actively dancing in with each other, just like God dances within the Holy Trinity. Yeah, it’s hard, yeah, it’s scary, yeah, it’s sometimes sad, but we lean in, we don’t leave, we don’t abandon the work or each other because: to whom can we go?

Clergy come and go. That’s part of the deal. We are all interims, it’s just a matter of how long we stay. We do not abandon you, oh no, we walk with you like a parent walking along with the child on their own bicycle, and before you know it, you’re off on your own journey, and you don’t even notice that the parent’s let you go. I am letting you go today, St. James’, because you’ve done the work, you’ve loosened your grip and dreamed of who you can be at your best. You’ve found your spirit of curiosity, of “yes, and” rather than “no, but.” You’ve tried new things, failed at some, and discovered that you’re ok, regardless. It is time for you to be off on your own new journey. You have the tools and the lessons learned from this interim time. Ain’t nothing stopping you now. Go preach with abandon – and use words when necessary. Go be in solidarity with the poor. Go be scandalous in showing love to this bitter world. See how many you offend, and see how many lives you change through the evangelion, the good news, the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 

It is, has been, and always will be about him. He’s the one you come here to meet. He’s the one who brought me here. He’s the one who has called Mo. Pilar to take her place right here in two weeks to continue the good work done by the good people of St. James.’ And to anyone who may be at all apprehensive: to whom you can go? Jesus is alive in this place, and the best is yet to come. I hope, in this next season, you have the time of your life. I sure did. I don’t know if I’ve been changed for the better, as the lady says, but because I knew you folks, I have been changed for good.

So it’s closing time, I don’t have to go home – because I don’t really have one of those at the moment – but I can’t stay here. What final pop culture reference does Fr. Joe leave you with? I could quote Masters of the Universe and wish you “good journey,” or tell you in the words of Elwood Blues to “take it easy.” Instead, I’ll paraphrase the very last scene of what is, for my money, the greatest television show ever made, Neon Genesis Evangelion: Thank you to the staff, goodbye to the lake, and to all the children of God at St. James’: congratulations! 

The final scene of Neon Genesis Evangelion.