Taste and See

The Third Sunday of Easter

This is the day that the Lord has made for us, let us rejoice and take gladness in it.

Alleluia, Christ is risen.

On Friday we had a Moral Revival for Times Such as These, and the Reverend Devontae Powell from Vermont Christian Church began his sermon by singing

[Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me ‘round,
turn me ‘round, turn me ‘round,
Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me ‘round
I’m gonna keep on a walkin’, keep on a-talkin’,
Marching up to freedom land.]

With a quip about the Episcopal Church not really being known for opening in song the same way our siblings in Christ do. I had to smile to myself, because that’s exactly how I intended to open today. Because I want us to sit with these words and think about the meaning behind them. They’re from Psalm 34 and the subtitle for Psalm 34 is “When David pretended to be insane”, but when you hear these words, and you think about the Road to Emmaus, and you think about the fellowship of all of our fellow Christians, not just here in this room, not just online in YouTube land, but all across this city, all across this state, all across this nation, all across this wonderfully Created world, is it so insane that when we break bread, and commune with one another and with God, that we will taste and see…

[Taste and see, taste and see
the goodness of the Lord.
Oh, taste and see, taste and see
the goodness of the Lord, of the Lord.]

My friends, let’s close our eyes and put ourselves two thousand years ago. We’ve followed Jesus to the very end, and some of us may be scared, some of us may be waiting, some of us may be locked away in rooms waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then we hear Mary Magdalene come running to us to say that He is risen, and if He’s risen, then it’s safe for us to come out of hiding, because there’s nothing to fear. So, still there, two thousand years ago, we start coming out of hiding and doing what Aaron Sorkin is best known for - the walk and talk. And in that walking and that talking with one another, this crazy thing happens, a new friend appears in our midst, so we start walking and talking with them and, before long, we get close to our home, and our new friend tries to continue on, but we remember that radical hospitality of inviting in the stranger, the outcast, those on the margins, that our newly risen savior taught us to share. So, we take a second, share a look, and say “Hey, why don’t you come stay with us for the night? Get a good night’s rest and some food in your belly.” Our friend, thankful for the hospitality, blesses the meal, and breaks the bread handing it over to us to eat. As soon as the bread breaks, we open our eyes, and realize that that person before us is the risen Christ.

Now, if you still have your eyes closed, let’s open them. Let’s open them and look at one another. Not just our pew neighbors, or the folks we come to church with every Sunday, but look at someone you don’t know well, someone whose name you don’t know, someone who sits on the other side of the church. Someone with whom you break the bread of communion with every Sunday, someone with whom you break the bread of coffee hour, someone with whom you break the bread of the peace, and see that they are wonderfully and fearfully made, beloved children of God. And let us sit with that for a moment.

These, the people all around us, and yes, even ourselves, are the disciples on the road to Emmaus. We are the disciples on the road to Emmaus not knowing Jesus when He is Risen and right in front of our faces. We are the disciples walking a road in a post resurrection world. The Kingdom is here and it is now. The Return is here and it is now. My beloved friends, be present with each other. Break Bread with each other. Leave our gifts, and heal the hurts that hurt us, with each other. Leave our pride at the foot of the Cross. Our hurts, our hubris, our ambitions that God does not call us towards. Let God be present with us. Be present in the breaking of the bread today. My friends. Today. Taste. And see. The goodness of the Lord. Taste and see that the Lord is all around us. My friends. Taste. See.

We all come here, seeking something that we don’t find out in the world, and we find a family, a community, a togetherness. That wraps its arms around each of us in every loss, in every win, in every moment. A family whose beating heart opens the doors of our church to the wider world, to be a church with heart, in the heart of the city. A family that is weak on crime because we believe in the rehabilitation of the thief on the cross. A family that is bad on foreign policy, because we welcome the stranger into our community, and we serve in the cities in which we are exiled, praying and serving for its welfare. We are a tent that grows bigger every single day, because we are much more interested in making sure that people can find the space in which God occupies, much more than we are with putting up fences that bar entry if they are too far afield.

And in all of this, every Sunday, and Wednesday at noon, and at every funeral and wedding we do the greatest part of that community and that family. We share in the peace, where we can greet one another and set our paths straight, and heal our relationships, we do this after confessing that we have failed to love one another and to love God with our whole hearts and our whole beings. Then the liturgy gives us the opportunity to do it right. To get up, and love those around us. Then, after all that lovin’ for our wonderfully and fearfully made fellow Creations of God, we somehow kick it up a notch and break bread with the whole family. With the whole communion of saints, with God, and with the whole community that surrounds us. And man, that’s so cool.

It’s so cool that we are given such grace for peace. Such grace for each other. Such grace, for ourselves. Now, some of you know this, but I’ve been in therapy since shortly after getting out of the army in 2021 and moving back to Michigan. Over the course of these five years, there’s been one constant beyond the struggles with sobriety, beyond the struggles with PTSD, beyond the finding of peace and joy in the day that the Lord has made. It’s been extending to myself the same grace that I extend to others. That no matter how much grace we share with others, because of the love in our hearts, we don’t spare that same grace and same love for ourselves. I realized, while writing this, that I couldn’t authentically ask that we be a family if I didn’t first start sparing that same grace for myself. I never think it’s as easy as saying it, and I didn’t feel right not sharing in the vulnerability of committing myself to it. But, like Paul says, we really do live such a simple religion; love the Lord our God with all our hearts, with all our minds, and with all our strength, and love one another as we love ourselves. To forgive one another for being human, and to forgive ourselves for those same mistakes.

So, let’s close our eyes again and put ourselves, not two thousand years ago, but here, now, in this space. We’re here, with our anxieties, our fears, our inabilities to take the next step. Then, see our neighbors, our friends, our family, come running back into town telling us “It’s okay! The Lord is Risen! He is amongst us!” And if He’s risen, it means we can take all of those things and find grace, and solace, and strength, and all the things that we need to take that next step down our own roads to Emmaus.

Let’s open our eyes again, and take a moment to look around. My friends, let’s break bread together. Let’s taste and see the goodness of the Lord. And that all of this, it all centers around something simple, a family meal. Now, as I do with all my friends when we break bread together, let’s pray together for just a moment longer.

The Lord be with you,

[Contextualized prayer]

He is Risen indeed! Thanks be to God, Alleluia!