In my family,
there are many stories
about my great-grandmother Helen.
I had the good fortune to have known her as a child.
I used to love to sit on her lap after church
and excavate the contents of her gold chainmail handbag.
It was our little ritual.
But there is one story about her
that I relate to the most.
At family gatherings and church dinners
she would make B line for the dessert table.
She would scope out the cakes and pies,
cookies and bars,
deciding what she was going to have first.
She would grab one of the small plates
from the dessert table
and then head over to get in line for the savory foods,
where she would usually say,
“Well, I guess I better have a plate of real food first.”
Then,
when she was finished with her obligatory plate
of real food,
while everyone else was talking
and picking the last few bites of chicken off the bone,
she would grab one of the dinner trays
and be the first person in line for the desserts.
Genius.
She had enough room
in her stomach
and on her plate
for all the dessert she wanted.
As a little kid,
I wondered why she would even bother
to eat that smaller plate.
Why fill up on green beans
when you could be eating German chocolate cake,
banana pudding,
fried apple pie?
What she knew
that I didn’t
was that all that dessert
on an empty stomach
would probably make you sick.
So,
if you want to eat a dinner tray of dessert,
a little inoculatory nutrition
goes a long way.
Our readings for today
seem to offer us similar choices.
Wisdom has built a house
and prepared a feast,
sending out invitations to the simple
and the senseless.
So, naturally,
we assume that invitation
must be for someone else.
The reading from Ephesians
tells us we can know and understand
the will of God.
And we throw up our hands
and shake our heads,
reminding each other
that the Lord works in mysterious ways.
Jesus offers us his very flesh and blood
to eat and drink
that we might have eternal life.
We think,
“Ew, Jesus.
That’s gross.”
Or we go too far in the other direction
and over-spiritualize Jesus’ words,
assuming that there is no way he could mean what he said.
So, we miss Wisdom’s invitation,
assuming it’s come to the wrong address.
We give up trying to discern the will of God,
assuming it is unknowable.
And we waste our lives hoping for the kingdom come
with heaven near enough to taste and smell.
Thankfully,
The Lord takes care of children and fools,
as the old saying goes.
Wisdom’s feast is for the simple and senseless.
The table is set for those
humble enough
to accept the invitation.
All it will cost us is our pride.
If we want to dig into Wisdom’s insight,
her feast of meat and mixed wine,
we just might have to eat a small plate of crow first.
If we want to be filled with the Spirit,
singing psalms and hymns in our hearts,
we can’t be filled up with debauchery instead.
The will of God is easy to discern
when we are filled with the Spirit,
because the will of God is Love,
and the Spirit is transforming us into this love.
If we want the dessert of “eternal life”—
which is better translated as “the life of the Age,”
meaning, if we want to life a heavenly life
in the here and now—
Jesus’ flesh and blood
are a small plate of “real food,”
green beans on the belly
so we can stomach so much dessert.
Like the Judeans who ask,
“How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”
we need a bit of insight to understand.
But insight comes from Wisdom’s table.
Wisdom knows,
like my great grandmother,
that you will have to have a plate of real food,
a dose of nutrition,
a helping of green beans
to be able to stomach
the sweetness we crave.
To the folks who first read the Gospel according to St. John,
there was no great secret.
Jesus had given the apostles
a meal with insight,
bread and wine
as flesh and blood.
To eat of this meal
is to partake of Christ’s very body.
Bread and wine are the plate of real food we consume
so we can tolerate feasting on the sweetness of Jesus.
Wisdom invites us to a meal of insight,
not a scientific or philosophical explanation.
We share at this table
a mystery,
a sacrament,
a partaking in the flesh and blood of Jesus
at a level beyond our usual ways of perceiving,
beyond our seeing, tasting, touching, smelling, or hearing.
And from this table,
this ‘real food’ prepares us
to see, taste, touch, smell, and hear this reality
with wisdom,
able to load up our dinner trays
with all the sweetness this life has to offer.
If that feels simple and senseless,
congratulations!
Your invitation to live the life of the Age,
to feast at the table of Wisdom
has just arrived.
Wisdom has prepared her feast,
Jesus has offered his flesh and blood,
and the Spirit has come out to find you.
Let it be simple.
Let it be senseless.
Let it remain a mystery.
Come.
Come and eat this real food.
Eat and drink
Jesus’ flesh and blood,
and live now
in the Age to come.
It’s just that simple.
Amen.