Pastor Dan Mangler's Sunday Sermon

He Makes Himself Known

Luke 24: 13-35

April 10, 2005

He Makes Himself Known

In just a little while you will participate in what some may perceive as a peculiar practice. You will leave the comfort and anonymity of your pews, stand in one of two lines at the front of which you will receive a morsel of bread and a small amount of wine, probably less than a table spoon. Having thus dined at what you refer to as a supper, certainly a parsimonious meal at best, you will return to your pews claiming satisfaction and thankfulness for what you received. All this you will do with grace, decorum, and in good Lutheran order. A stranger in our midst might, with justification, puzzle over what he sees. Could you explain to him why you are so satisfied by a meal that seemingly offers so little? I want to tell you a true story of a pastor and his son, a story that has added for me, beyond measure, meaning to what we do.

I met Pastor C. David Olsen several years ago at a confirmation workshop training event in San Antonio, Texas. Fortress Press was introducing a new confirmation curriculum and they needed leaders to train with the material and then introduce it to congregations in their synod. The synod staffer who asked if I was interested in going said she thought the event was going to be in San Francisco. By the time I learned it was actually going to be in San Antonio, it was too late to back out.

Quite by coincidence it turned out I was both in college and, for a time, seminary with David Olsen’s younger brother Ray. David is one of those guys who brings life and humor into every group. He is always ready with a smile, quick to bring laughter into the most boring or mundane of activities, a quality, by the way, much appreciated by any who attend such training events. In short, he is simply one of those people it is fun to be around. It was that much more surprising, then, to hear of the pain and sadness that had recently touched his life.

We were sitting in a small group, maybe five at the particular table in the dining hall at about 10:30 following the evening training session. In the middle of the conversation Dave commented, almost off-handedly, that his son had died the previous May, just 5 months prior to this workshop. I don't think he intended that topic to continue, but it was one I couldn't leave alone. And so with just a few questions the story came out

Dave's son, Keith, two years earlier, at age 15, had broken his leg in a slide into second base during a routine baseball practice. X-rays revealed the reason how such normal activity could result in a broken bone. Keith had bone cancer. What followed were two years of hope, then disappointment, and finally sadness.

At one of the top university hospitals in the country, the UCLA University Hospital, Keith received a new leg. The doctors were very pleased and optimistic. There was hope that they had won out over the cancer. But they had only delayed it.

A year later the cancer appeared again. Keith's last wish was to see the L.A. Dodgers in spring training. Dave arranged for them to fly to Florida where Keith ended up spending all the time in the hospital, his last wish never realized. A special plane was required to bring Keith back to L.A. where he was hospitalized for several more weeks.

One Saturday, Dave brought his son Holy Communion. Keith was in pain, very tired, and fighting an impossible battle to stay alive. After their private communion service, Dave said to his son: "Keith, I don't know why you're fighting so hard, but if you're looking for permission to quit fighting and just give your life up to the Lord, you have mine." Early Sunday morning, on Mother's Day, Keith died.

That's a very touching story, and it still brings a lump into my throat, but what does it have to do with the Holy Communion we celebrate? I needed to share that as background for what David, then, said about Holy Communion. He said, "There were days and days that the only thing I could do was hold Keith's hand. I can't touch Keith anymore, but in Holy Communion I can touch the one who can touch Keith."

We describe Holy Communion as a liturgical act, and so it is, but it is far more. We say that Holy Communion is a memorial meal obeying the words of Jesus, "Do this in remembrance of me", and so it is, but it is far more. We trust that Holy Communion is a means of grace, a vehicle through which God brings his forgiveness of sin, and so it is, but it is still far more.

Holy Communion is nothing less than a living encounter with the risen Lord. Jesus is no less present with us in the breaking of this bread this morning than he was with the Emmaus disciples that Easter evening. This morning, in this bread and in this wine, we experience a personal encounter, an intimate encounter, with the risen Jesus, the Lord of eternity. The Emmaus disciples didn't recognize Jesus by sight. They didn't recognize him, though they had this strange burning inside, when he explained to them Moses and the prophets. But when he was at table with them and took bread, and blessed and broke it and gave it to them, then their eyes were opened and they recognized him. And then they ran to find the eleven to tell them how Jesus had made himself known to them in the breaking of bread.

It is not the meager morsel of bread and small amount of wine that makes this meal satisfying. It is, rather, the person we meet in that bread and wine. Holy Communion is the most intimate encounter we can have with the risen Lord Jesus. In Holy Communion we touch the one who touches eternity. It is with that expectation that we approach the Sacrament of the Altar this morning. Amen.

May the peace of God that passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Amen.