When I was about 9 or 10 years old, I used to love Sundays in the spring. Now this wasn’t some sign from God to my parents that I would one day be ordained. It wasn’t that I looked forward to church or Sunday School, and it definitely wasn’t the thought of hearing a very long sermon while my Dad fussed at me to quit squirming in the pew or for picking on my little sister.

No, I loved Sundays for a different reason. It wasn’t going to church that I loved; it was what happened after church that I looked forward to the most. As soon as the last hymn was finished, I would rush out of the pew and head down stairs for coffee hour. I would gulp down some lemonade and I would try to hurry my parents into drink their coffee as quickly as they could. I have since learned that you never rush an Episcopalian through coffee hour, but what can I say? I had more important things on my mind. There was fried chicken to be eaten.

You see somewhere down the line it became a springtime tradition for the Hailey family to get fried chicken after church. I don’t remember how or when it got started, but I loved it. I would sit impatiently in the car. Most of the time I had been sent there by one of my parents for bothering them while they were trying to speak to the priest, or talking about some other boring church topic that do not hold the interest of a ten year old who was hell bent on being away from church where people where keeping him away from chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and that great Southern staple, sweet tea.

Eventually my parents would gather my sister and we would head of down the road to pick up a big bucket of fried chicken on the way to my grandmother’s house. When we stopped at the local place, my dad and I would get out, and it was always just dad and me. My mom and sister stayed in the car and waited, and some how I felt closer to my dad and more like a man, important, as if I was one of the only people in my family who could properly handle picking up fried chicken.

And we would arrive at Granny’s house, and I would throw off my tie and start to play in the yard as Sunday dinner was being put out on the table. Then that moment came that I had been waiting for since I gotten out of bed. My granny would call me to the table and I would begin to stuff myself with fried chicken, corn, potatoes, gravy; all the good stuff. And I would always save my biscuit for last. I would smother it with honey, or if I was really, really lucky apple butter from the apple orchard that was just a few miles down the road.

After stuffing ourselves with fried goodness, we would go into the living room and watch Atlanta Braves baseball. Since we lived out in the country, my house didn’t have cable and going to Granny’s was the only way I could watch my favorite team. And to me, Sundays were heaven, or at least as close to heaven as a ten-year-old boy could get with a younger sister.

Food is at the heart of all of our lessons today. God provides food for Elijah. Our psalm invites us to taste and see that the Lord is good. In our Gospel reading, Jesus calls himself the bread of life. Even the reading from Ephesians evokes our sense of smell; "a fragrant offering.¹" After reading the Gospel lesson, it makes me think of warm bread baking, in the oven; the smell permeating throughout the house.

Food evokes powerful memories and emotions. Food can comfort and unite us together. And this morning, we see how the bread of heaven unites us to our God in heaven.

Bread for the Jewish people during Jesus' time was a staple. It wasn't filler before the main course, or a "vehicle for a spread²" or jelly. It was the main, and only course often times. Bread, suggests the idea of being nourished, of meeting and providing for the human need of hunger.³ What was waiting for Elijah? A cake of bread. What did God provide the Israelites with in the wilderness? Manna, bread from heaven. Abraham had bread, as did Jacob and Esau. During the famine in Egypt the people cried out to God for bread. Bread was quite literally the food that kept them alive.

Bread sustains life; it nourishes us, and satisfies our hunger. But we get hungry again, bread can get hard and stale, and bread can mold.

Yet the 'bread of life' is different. Alister McGrath wrote that "to speak of Christ as bread is to establish a connection with human hunger and emptiness. We may be full physically, but a deeper hunger still remains. We, as humans, are constantly looking to find meaning in our life, to be cared for, and above all to be loved. What humanity needs, Christ provides."⁴ As the bread of life, Jesus offers the hope of eternal life to those who feed on him. Jesus tells the crowd that "whoever comes to me with never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty."⁵ This bread from heaven will never leave us hungry; will never leave us wanting more. "As the bread of life, Jesus offers the hope of eternal life to those who feed on him."⁶

To feed on Christ, to really know Christ is to put our hope in the Resurrection. We do this each and every week as we celebrate Eucharist. "The intimacy of the relationship which Christ desires with his people is represented in the Lord's Supper, in which [we] eat bread and drink wine as a memorial of the suffering and death of Christ."⁷

We know the Eucharist to be a sacrament of our Church; an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.⁸ "It is an action that both makes us aware of and makes present once again God's loving presence and action in our lives."⁹ Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, it is a chance for us to "bring our lives in their brokenness and incompleteness as a sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, so that God may take our lives and transform them and give them back to us made whole."¹⁰

We are granted gifts of faith, hope, and love when we participate in the Eucharist.¹¹ The faith that we are indeed the beloved children of God in spite of our brokenness. Faith in a God that come to dwell among his people, and offer a "perfect sacrifice for the whole world."¹² Our hope is the assurance hat God is indeed present in human life and history, that we are not alone and that with God all things are possible.¹³ The hope that we can indeed change social injustices and that all people will be seen as beloved children of God. And love is the experience of God's life-giving, life-transforming action in our lives that makes it possible for us to be a sign and witness to the reign of God.¹⁴

We are also strengthened when we partake in the Holy Communion; strengthened to be imitators of God. When we participate in the Eucharist, even though we are still in a broken, sinful world, we see how the world should be. The reading from Ephesians tells us what life in Christ looks like. As beloved children of God, this is what we strive and work for. As beloved children of God, we must continue to live out the promises we made at our Baptism and Confirmation and serve the world in the name of the Risen Christ.

In our Baptismal covenant, we promise to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, by loving our neighbors as ourselves, to strive for justice and peace, and to respect the dignity of every human being. To do these things is to truly be a child of God. And even though we may fail from time to time, when we repent and seek forgiveness, it is freely given to us by a loving and caring God. Eucharist reminds us that we are God's people and strengthens us to serve Christ and each other in the world.

I had a professor in seminary that would say that many things we do in life are sacramental in nature. That is to say that our acts and deeds reflect that love that God shows us. By looking back, I can see how those Sunday meals with my family were sacramental in nature. Just as we are fed, both physically and spiritually by the Bread of Heaven in the Eucharist, I was fed in much the same manner at my Grandmother's house. I knew that I was a part of a family that loved and cared for me. And I knew that this love was unconditional. This love was not something I had earned, it was simply because I was a son, grandson, and brother. Looking back, I also know that I was forgiven for all those faults that I might have committed by sharing in that meal. I knew that I had pestered my parents into leaving church as quickly as possible, but that they still loved me. And I knew that my parents would always be there for me always, supporting me and guiding me through life. And I knew that I was lucky to have a grandmother and parents like this. The memory of these meals still mean a great deal to me, long after they ceased to be something we shared as a family, and the cherished place they have in my heart has only increased with the passing of my father and grandmother.

We will break bread together as a community of faith around this altar shortly. We are a family as we are all beloved children of God, brothers and sisters in Christ. We love and care for one another. Yes, we all have our faults and we may not see eye to eye all the time, but we love and care for one another all the same. May we be nourished with the bread of Heaven, may we taste and see that the Lord is good, and may we be confident in the knowledge that we are beloved children of God.

AMEN.

¹ Ephesians 5:2
² Rev. Machrina L. Blasdell
³ McGrath, Alister Knowing Christ (Galilee, Doubleday Press: New York, 2002), 127
⁴ McGrath, 127
⁵ John 6:35
⁶ McGrath, 12
⁷ McGrath, 129
⁸ Book of Common Prayer, 857
⁹ Westerhoff, John H., Living Faithfully as a Prayer Book People (Morehouse Publishing: Harrisburg, 2004), 76
¹⁰ Westerhoff, 76
¹¹ Westerhoff, 76
¹² BCP, 362
¹³ Westerhoff, 77
¹⁴ Westerhoff, 77