While looking for Monty Python's "I Like Chinese" on YouTube, I found this...thing.

(Video somewhat NSFW if your employer is uptight...though I suspect most would find this as morbidly fascinating as I do.)

I especially love the sound effects and inflating boob special effects.

It's "Ow My Boobs", Beijing edition!

The following is a draft of the sermon I'm giving this Saturday at our monthly English service. Your comments and criticisms would be appreciated.

Sermon for Proper 13, Lectionary Year A 

(Isaiah 55:1-5, Psalm 145:8-9,15-22, Romans 9:1-5, Matthew 14:13-21)

The Gospel reading today contains one of the most famous stories of the New Testament: the story of the loaves and fishes. The symbol of the loaves and fishes, like the mosaic on the cover of the bulletin, is one of the oldest associated with Christianity, perhaps older even than the Latin cross that most people think of when they have our faith in mind.

The reading from Isaiah also wonderfully foreshadows the loaves and fishes story. The prophet says, »Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.«

If you look at only those two readings, shorn of their context, and take them at face value, you’d get the impression that Christianity is really just some sort of all-you-can-eat buffet. Free food for the masses, no coupons required, offer limited where prohibited by law, no purchase necessary.

But like so often when reading the Bible, taking the texts out of context and at face value is a very bad idea, because indeed it leads to false conclusions. We need a bit of tradition to understand them. We need to take the entire Bible and use it as a foundation to understand each and every bit of it, and we need to look at it through the lens of the traditions handed down to us.

So what are the loaves and fishes all about?

There is a phrase in the story that gives us a clue. The phrase is this: »Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds«. Does that make the hair stand up on the back of your neck? It should, because it is a strong echo of another phrase from the Gospel of Mark that we will hear shortly during the Eucharistic prayer: »For in the night in which he was betrayed, he took bread; and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, ›Take, eat, this is my Body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.‹« The parallels in the text are too strong to be a coincidence. Jesus breaks the bread, and gives it to His disciples.

Meanwhile early Christians came up with a symbol to represent Christ, one that many Christians use today – the Jesus Fish. The reason is of course that the Greek word for »fish« – ichthys – happens to also stand for the Greek words iesous christos theou huios soter, which in English simply means »Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior«. But the fish was also, like bread, a staple food in the Levant.

To really drive the point home, Jesus also says in the Gospel of John, »I am the bread of life«. When we receive the Eucharist, we are given the consecrated bread with the words, the Body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven. 

So what Jesus is doing in this story is foreshadowing the Eucharist that we celebrate today. Thus the loaves and fishes come to represent nothing less than Christ Himself, and His infinite love. There is always enough love to go around. Love is that which fills the deepest holes in our hearts. Jesus is love, the spiritual food for our selves that we need just as much as bread and fish for our stomachs.

The psalm offers yet another bit of foreshadowing: »The LORD upholds all those who fall; he lifts up those who are bowed down. The eyes of all wait upon you, O LORD, and you give them their food in due season.« God as Love is what gives us strength to go on; love is what feeds our hearts. And indeed Paul talks about how he has »great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart« – his feeling of emptiness will sound familiar to anyone searching for answers in our lives. But then »comes the Messiah, who is over all, God blessed forever« to fill that void.

It is also, I think, no coincidence that the leftover bread filled twelve baskets. The number twelve should be ringing big bells in our heads: the Apostles, who were filled with the bread of life, with the love of Christ, to go out into the darkness of the world and spread that infinite love. The Apostles are the beginning of our church, our community of love. The twelve baskets are the Church, feeding the multitude.

To go back to the Eucharist, one area of disagreement amongst us Christians is the question of what »happens« in the Eucharist, particularly in the bread and wine. Roman Catholics have their principle of transsubstantiation, that is, that the bread becomes the substantial body of Christ; we Anglicans and Old Catholics stick with a more generalized »Real Presence« of Christ; many Protestants say that  Christ is only present spiritually; still others says it’s just a memorial.

What does all of that mean? What relevance does it have?

Some of you will have noticed that people genuflect in front of the aumbry or tabernacle, where the Reserved Sacrament is kept – consecrated bread stored in case of need, such as for the sick. Is it only bread that’s in there? Why kneel before bread?

Well, the Eucharist is the ritual and quite real expression of Christ’s love. What really makes the Eucharist happen is love. It can only take place in an atmosphere of love, of unity, of sharing community and Communion. While the priest is necessary for the consecration of the bread and wine, we all participate in its transformation. By praying together with the priest, by joining together as one body, we participate in a process that fills the bread with God’s love. By the power of the Holy Spirit, by God’s power, this is made possible. God is love.

So what we have in our hands after the completion of the Eucharistic prayer is not the result of hocus-pocus. It’s not magic at all. It’s God in our hands, but in particular it is love in our hands: love of all Creation, love of one another, love of God. We keep what looks like bread in a tabernacle and kneel before it because we acknowledge the limitless power of love. Amor vincit omnia: Love conquers all.

When you take the Eucharist in your hand later on, I’d like you to look at the bread for what it really is: the fullest expression of love – and food not for your stomach, but for your heart. Amen.

I just made the point in Smooch's blog and will do it again here: If I smell a cult of personality forming, it's an excellent way to drive me away in a hurry.

I can't help but notice the (probably unintentional, but still present) parallels in the following:

and

Meanwhile I got a phone call yesterday from the main Hannover newspaper asking if I was going to Berlin to see Obama's speech. I said no. Her reaction was typical: zOMG HOW CAN YOU NOT GO?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! IT'S OBAMA!!!11!!!!!!

Please. Why should I care?

The over-the-top hero worship of Obama is really nauseating. I was always lukewarm for Hillary, but Obama is succeeding in making me downright sick. If people would just admit he's just another politician and stop putting him on a pedestal, I'd be happy to support him. But the constant fellating of the man is ludicrous.

I wonder who the Grass Roots Party is nominating for President.

Yup, I gotta go see it!

Before you watch this video, let me point out one reason it gave me chills.

There is an English Christian hymn that is in a sense the unofficial national anthem of England:

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among those dark satanic mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

The words formed the basis of much of the symbolism used in the movie Chariots of Fire (the title itself is taken from the hymn).

If there is a song that caputures English sentiment, its traditions and dreams, it's Jerusalem -- the idea of England as the literal, enlightened Kingdom of God. It refers to the legend that Joseph of Arimathea visited Glastonbury, in some versions accompanied by Jesus Himself (the "feet in ancient times"), and to the legend of the Holy Grail and the Arthurian legends surrounding Glastonbury. (According to legend, the Glastonbury Thorn grew from where Joseph stuck his staff into the ground, and he hid the Holy Grail, the cup from the Last Supper, somewhere nearby.) I know many English people, especially nonbelieving ones, and I can't help but notice how Jerusalem moves even them.

Here is an MP3 of a nice recording of the hymn. Listen to it and let it sink in a bit.

Now watch The Verve's new video from their upcoming album:

The Verve managed to do a riff on Jerusalem and breathe new poignant meaning into it. I haven't gotten this excited by a new album in a long time -- and I love The Verve, especially Urban Hymns. Awesome stuff.

The following is translated from German – I mention that because there are a few spots where the phrases don't translate well into English. This was the sermon I gave yesterday when I was subbing for our priest, who's on a trip this week.

Sermon for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

(Isaiah 55:10-11, Psalm 65:10-14, Romans 8:18-23, Matthew 13:1-23)

I don't know who of you likes to work in the garden or in the fields, but if so, then today's readings are just for you. The opening hymn, Morning Has Broken, fits this theme. All that's missing are the chirping of birds and perhaps as a Communion hymn the "Morning Mood" from the Peer Gynt suite.

Today we hear about seeds, sprouts, blooms and grains. That all has something to say, a mystical meaning, a message for us. Unfortunately for us modern people, we tend to associate different things with gardening: mowing the lawn, trimming the hedges, pulling weeds, maybe spray against bugs. It's all about appearances, largely a façade for the neighbors – so that everyone in the neighborhood knows that no slobs live here.

But that's not at all what is meant in the readings. Most people today in Europe or North America no longer have a close connection to Mother Earth. Gardens are a thing of hobbies or for show. Tilling the fields is just a thing for farmers, while we go and buy our food at the supermarket. Fresh food from the garden is uncommon, sometimes even a burden: anyone with a friend who gardens will no doubt be showered with extra zucchinis and apples and cherries until you can't stand them anymore. But our existence certainly doesn't depend on it.

Back then, in Jesus' time, it was different. The overwhelming majority of people had to till the fields so that they had anything to eat. Even those who did not have to work in the fields were intimately aware of the work required and how it was going. Everyone knew if the harvest was good: you couldn't just go and get bananas from Central America or apples from Spain or asparagus from Greece. If the harvest wasn't good, you went hungry, and everyone else you knew did, too. In times of starvation, whosoever didn't grab a farming tool didn't eat.

Whoever works in their garden today thus only gets a tiny inkling of the enormous labor required to get nourishment from the fields. For tilling the soil is of necessity communal work. Alone, one can't sow the seeds, milk the cows, cut the fruit trees, and so on. Out in the fields, community is necessary, even vital. It's no coincidence that the earliest mighty civilizations – Egypt, for example – crystallized around agriculture. The first states – the first societies capable of survival – were primarily for encouraging and managing agriculture, and were made possible by agriculture's own existence.

Society itself is like a plant. It needs a bit of "tender loving care", as we say in English. It needs love. Plants may not think, but they need love anyway. Whosoever cares most for his plants will bear the greatest fruit.

I hear from some people that it's not necessary to go to church every Sunday, that the institution of church itself is a load of crap, that they feel turned off by organized religion (which sounds rather like "organized crime", and maybe intentionally). Such people like to say that nature is their church.

What the images in today's readings show us, however, is the exact opposite. Nature, life itself, needs community to flourish and grow. Whosoever cares most for his plants will bear the greatest fruit. Whosoever works most in the fields will reap the greatest harvest. Nature needs this care, this attention, this work so that it is useful to us. Society benefits when we all work together.

Further, it's of course the case that we can "meet God" anywhere in the world, whether in church or on the highest mountain or the deepest valley. But the question is rather, how and where can I most likely meet and experience God?

It is perhaps the case that Nature can be a church. But the truth is, society – the Church – is our nature.

In the community – communion – we celebrate Nature, and indeed our nature. Just as the individual can't bring nature to its fullest flower without the community, so too can one not bring oneself to the fullest flower without community. Naturally I get annoyed with things in the church's institutions. You have no idea how angry I get about the church, whether it's the recent vote on female bishops in the Church of England, or the fighting over our own central common funding scheme, or the latest pronouncements from Rome or Constantinople or Moscow. Nevertheless this community is vital for finding our own fulfillment, so that our nature finds its fulfillment – so that the Kingdom of God gets ever closer. It begins by going to church on Sunday, but also must continue with deaconry and social welfare, personally caring for others while also donating to worthy causes. It's work. Back-breaking work even. But if we want to reap the harvest, we have to till the fields.

In nature's fields, we are ourselves the seeds. We need this attention, this tender loving care. We bloom ourselves. The celebration of Holy Communion is an important part of this care, where we both in a mystical as well as literal sense water and feed ourselves, so that we can be a rich harvest.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." Whosoever cares most for his plants will bear the greatest fruit. If we love one another and work for and with one another, then the harvest will be truly great. Amen.