Bread Not Bombs

Last Saturday the service for the end of the Peace Week was celebrated in my ecumenical congregation, the KGIJ . The liturgy was presided at by a deacon from the Roman Catholic Church, and the participants, besides people from the KGIJ who come from various Christian traditions themselves, were Roman Catholics, members of the Salvation Army, Orthodox Christians and members of the Apostolisch Genootschap (The Apostolic Society). During the service I shared the following reflection inspired by fragments of St. Mark’s Gospel (9:30-37) and the Letter of James (2:5-6).

“But they did not understand what he meant”, writes St. Mark in his Gospel. How is it possible that this man, this man who preaches peace and mercy, love and humanity, is to be delivered into the hands of men? And they will kill him… They didn’t understand it. And we? We are at an interdenominational service, each of us bears his name – proud representatives of various “Christian traditions.” Do we understand this? The word “delivered” may be interpreted in several ways. It can refer only to what happened to Jesus then, 2000 years ago. But it can also be placed in a wider perspective. Jesus is delivered INTO OUR HANDS. He said once: look, this bread you’re breaking and passing on, is me, and you do it because I am the food: everything I do, everything I am, is for the other. In a moment we too will be given this bread into our hands and then everything will depend on us. Will we pass it on or keep for ourselves? But even if we pass it on, another question will arise: will this be a meaningful symbol or an empty sing? In other words, are we ready to share: our bread, our wine and, last but not least, ourselves – or not? It can be also expressed with the words of the great Russian thinker, Berdyaev: “Bread that I keep to myself is materialism, bread for another is spirituality.” It is spirituality because it is the realization of the Great Name of God: I Will Be Whom I Will Be… I Will Be There For You. But how can this become clear if not because of us, because of what we do and who we are? This is what I meant when I said than Jesus is delivered into our hands: as defenseless, as weak, as vulnerable as he is. The ending, the ending of his story, depends on us too. Will that be an open ending, one that is actually not an ending anymore but a new beginning, which the open tomb points to? Will Jesus rise up from the dead? In me, in you, in our communities of faith? Will we become signs of his presence, the validity of his message, of what he represented, what he proclaimed: the closeness of God revealed in and through the human being, and in and through the human being palpable, tangible?

They, the Apostles, were afraid to ask him… And do we have the courage to ask questions: of our society, our “Christian” civilization? Is the vote I gave a few days ago such a question? What did it actually express? “But you have dishonored the poor”, says St. James in his letter to a nameless community of early Christians. And how do we approach the “freeloaders,” those who “live of our taxes”, “bottomless wells” known to every welfare foundation, every volunteer who assists people in getting out of their debts. Apart from all those insulting names, each of them has his or her own name and story. How do we approach them: in our communities, our municipalities, our country, the world?

We pray for peace, in this week especially, but peace, “shalom”, ‘salaam”, is not only a state without war! It is much more: a situation where everything and everyone receives what she or he has a right to – justice, “Tzedakah” in Hebrew. I can see in my mind’s eye the church in Pakistan in flames. I think about the injustice that is being inflicted there. How long have we remained silent about it? How long were we afraid to ask about the fate of Christians in the Middle East? In the name of peace that was no peace at all but only a situation which enabled us to make good deals with rich sheiks. But I think also about the injustice that was inflicted on Muslims, about their hurt feelings… Was this really necessary? Did we really have to demonstrate in this way the freedom of expression? Justice is always for everyone. It can not be partial. Bonhoeffer, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the great theologian, pastor, martyr, understood it perfectly when he cried: “You have no right to sing Gregorian chants unless you are standing up for the Jews.” Many thought then that you can take care of yourself only – if only the dictator leaves the Church alone… “No!”, says Bonhoeffer, if you want to sing your hymns and don’t want them to sound falsely, you have to stand up now for those who are loosing everything. There is no other way. For our God, the God whom we proclaim and whom sing, does not take the side of those who invoke his Name often enough. She takes the side of the widow and the orphan, those who do not get what they have a right to, the despised: regardless of their convictions. And what side do we take: we who proudly bear the Name of his Son? Who do we stand up for? Who do we pray for? The burning church in Pakistan, the fear in the eyes of Christians in Egypt and Syria, in Lebanon… Can you see the same fear in the eyes of your Muslim neighbor? And please don’t tell me that they are safe here, that no one will burn down their mosques! There is only one fear and one sense of despair and danger. And one hope: that humanity will solve its problems in a peaceful manner, for if it doesn’t, it will cease to exist…

We are together now, Christians of different “blood types,” so to speak: only Christians, alas. But ok – let’s look at it from the positive point of view. This is a beginning. But in a while we will go home. Tomorrow everyone will go to his or her church again – or not at all. The question that we must have the courage to ask is: are we able, one way or another, to stay close to each other? Are we strong enough to, as the salmon we just sang about, “swim against the torrent” that so often parts us and makes us choose our own interest, our own nation, faith, church, convictions, place, peace, bread? “Bread not bombs,” we say – that’s true! Bread is the only answer to a danger. But only on one condition: if we share it – with someone else, next to us. Let’s do it. In a moment. And let us not allow that this ever becomes an empty sign!

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