ABSENCE AND PRESENCE
Scriptures: I Samuel 21:1-6
Matthew 12:1-8
I’ve been thinking some more about the idea of “being present” that we talked about two weeks ago. For those who were here, you’ll recall that we said then that the simple (though profound) act of being there for another – engaging in a “ministry of presence” – was a significant part of our Christian service, along with “saying” and “doing”. But I’d like to take that thought a step further at both the human and divine levels and relate it to our communion service – what might it truly mean to be there for another?
Part of what has stimulated my thinking in this regard has been preparing for the memorial service for Ruth Rensch and thus meditating on what happens when someone is absent to us. Alzheimer’s or dementia is absolutely the cruelest disease. It means that even though someone we love is physically there with us, they are for all extent and purpose absent to us. The most wrenching moment for me in Ruth’s final illness, as I’m sure it was for Anita, was when she told me about Ruth saying to the nurse, “You know, of course, that I live alone.” How painful and dispiriting such a statement must be to a loving and devoted daughter who has given so much to make these final years as comfortable as possible. As Gina said at choir practice a week ago, our hope is that in death Ruth has returned to herself. In a very real, albeit mystical and spiritual, way Ruth is more truly present for Anita and Steve and Theresa and Ronald and Lumen and for all of us now than she was when she was physically here over these past few years.
The ravages of dementia and what it does to the fabric of loving human relationships is the extreme form of being absent to another. But each of us knows something of this kind of absence. Haven’t we all had the experience of talking to another – a husband or wife or significant other, say – and later finding out that what we said wasn’t heard. The other person was not really and fully present for us. Or, let’s turn it back on ourselves. If we’re honest with ourselves, can’t we remember times when we listened with only half an ear while our thoughts were elsewhere? To be absent to another in this way is to demonstrate a lack of concern which means that we are being less than loving.
What we seek, therefore, are ways to be truly present for someone else. How do we do that? Let me suggest three ways.
We can be present through service. When we talked about Christian service in the confirmation class a couple of weeks ago, two examples that were given were Florence Nightingale and Mother Teresa – examples of individuals offering aid over a period of time where need was greatest. People like these can be role models, but they are perhaps most important as symbols which point beyond themselves to the reality which says that physical presence means caring about those you are with enough to do something specific for and with them – whether that’s offering food or taking the time to listen and to understand.
Second, we can be present without being physically there. Many of you send cards to those who are sick or reach out through e-mails. There is the presence of intercessory prayer, and I know from what several of you have told me how important it is to know that other people are praying for you – plus, there is increasing scientific evidence that such intercessory prayer is truly powerful.
Third, to take presence to another level, there is being present for others in community. The Greek word for community is koinonia, which speaks to what a community can be: a fellowship of those who trust one another and are willing to bring their concerns and joys into the presence of the community – as we do each Sunday toward the end of the service. The church is especially equipped to provide this kind of community – a community which accepts and forgives and does not judge, a community which tries to strengthen its members, a community which is open to anything and anyone. One of the things the confirmation class learned is that the Congregational part of our UCC heritage liked to think of itself as a “covenanted community” (and those of us who were at the Southern California Nevada UCC Conference Annual Gathering these past few days heard quite a bit about a “covenant community”), for those who entered into covenant with one another were present for one another in trust and in caring in a most potent way.
Being present for another – and for several others – in these ways restores us to being human and not a bar code or a bank number – the symbols of anonymity and impersonality in our day. As a church we have come to realize that we can be most fully present – and thus most fully human – here, in this place, because it is here that God is most fully present for us, and especially so in the sacrament of communion.
The Roman Catholic Church speaks of the “real presence” of God in the Eucharist or Holy Communion. Because this sacrament is so central to the life of the church, this doctrine says, it is here above all else where God is really present for us – that in the communion elements we actually partake of a part of God as a means of keeping alive God’s presence in the world.
Protestants, following Luther and Zwingli, felt, though, that a doctrine of “real presence” was too easily mis-understood if taken literally, and so we speak about the presence of God in these elements in a symbolic sense. But it is important to affirm that this understanding does not weaken the weight of communion for us, for, as we said when speaking about Florence Nightingale and Mother Teresa, a symbol has a power to point beyond itself and to include the reality which it proclaims. The cross, for example, says much more than just here are two sticks nailed together, but rather it includes the meaning of suffering, sacrifice, redemption, and love. The bread and juice of communion also include these meanings and even more – our contact with a God who has never left this world.
The bread of the Presence, spoken of in our two scripture lessons, was a forerunner of our communion elements. There was also a ritual drink that usually accompanied the bread. This holy bread was referred to as the “Presence” because here was where God’s activity became sharply defined. For Israel the fact of God’s presence was very real – whether in the cloud that followed them in the wilderness, or in the ark, or in the tabernacle. God’s “tabernacling presence”, then, comes to fruition in the incarnation of the Christ – for he is “Emmanuel”, or “God with us”.
In these two scripture passages there is yet a further dimension of presence – the coming together of the holy and the common. When David goes to ask for the bread, the priest of Nob is initially suspicious. This is holy bread, after all, and only to be used for holy purposes. But David goes on to show that there is not such a great distance between the holy and the common – that, in fact, as long as his men have adhered to the requirement of purity for a week, the very fact that they are engaged in the commonest of enterprises – fighting a battle – should let them partake of the bread of the Presence. It is in our most common moments of life that this Presence takes on its greatest meaning.
Jesus takes the matter a step further. By telling this story from I Samuel, he uses it to point out to his detractors that there is no justification for withholding the Presence from anyone – that this Sabbath day, which is considered so holy by these pious ones, is only holy because God gives it God’s presence. Taking his cue from David, Jesus finds that the holiness of the Presence is best found through the common. That’s why in our communion service we use those things which are so common to us – the bread and juice of everyday life. Commenting on this passage George Buttrick has said that Christ “kept the sabbath in rigorous joy.” This is the attitude of one who knows the presence of God. In communion commonness and holiness combine to provide us with an experience of the presence of God – as experience which can only be expressed in “rigorous joy”.
Perhaps in the final analysis presence is truly a mystery. Our being present for another or God being present for us both lift us beyond ourselves into a realm where we know that more than ourselves is there. God’s presence consecrates this sacrament, for as the choir will sing in a moment and as we all affirm: “God is there”. But we also join in the consecration by bringing ourselves – our real presence – to this table. We do so by seeking always to be fully present for others as God, we know, is fully present for us. Amen
Dave Pomeroy
First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ
Las Vegas, NV
June 3, 2007