“The Kingdom, Part 2: Tasty and Bright” by the Rev. Wahlig, February 5, 2023, Year A / Epiphany 5 – Isaiah 58:1-9a (9b-12) • Psalm 112:1-9 (10) • 1 Corinthians 2:1-12 (13-16) • Matthew 5:13-20

THEME: When we actively participate in God’s Kingdom by following Christ’s command to care for those in need, we make life brighter and give it an exquisite taste, a love feast we all enjoy together.

I think I know the answer to this question, but I’m going to ask it anyway just to be sure. Do we have any Harry Potter fans here? I thought so. I’m right there with you. Like many of you, I was completely taken with the Harry Potter movies from the moment they first came out. I’ve seen them all numerous times. The ones I like best are still the early ones, especially the first one, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. For me, a big part of the appeal of this world that J.K. Rowling created is the wide-eyed wonder of young Harry as he enters Hogwarts School. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione are somewhere between 10 and 12 years old when they walk into the Great Hall for the first time. They look around at all the older students sitting at those long tables. Then they look up at the ceiling in amazement. It’s been transformed to look like the nighttime sky, complete with the moon, clouds, and stars. 

Not that the room itself is dark. Far from it! There are torch bowls on the walls and, best of all, dozens of lit candles floating in mid-air. The whole room positively glows, along with the faces of everybody in it.

Then, after the sorting ceremony to place the first-year students into their houses, Professor Dumbledore stands up and says, “Let the feast begin.” And, lo and behold, the most exquisite meal suddenly appears on each table. There is an audible gasp from the students. It looks delicious and obviously it tastes delicious. They all tuck in with gusto. It is a feast alright. Bright and tasty. 

It occurred to me when I read this morning’s scripture passage that this is a lot like the image of the Kingdom Jesus paints for the crowds in the Sermon on the Mount. In this second part of our 3-part sermon series on the Kingdom, we’ll explore what Jesus has in mind here to see how it might affect us on this Communion Sunday – and beyond.

Last week, Jesus commanded the crowd to serve the needs of the poor and the powerless, the meek and the grieving. He taught his followers that they enter the Kingdom together every time they reach out to ease the suffering of those in need. This week, he tells them they are the salt of the earth and the light of the world, inviting others to participate in the Kingdom.

But there are those in the crowd, maybe even the odd pharisee or two, who are thinking that he’s offering some new teaching that supersedes the Jewish law. Absolutely not, Jesus says. The Law already has these commands built into it. Jesus is there to fulfill the law, not replace it. We know this because later when he proposes the Great Commandment – to love God and neighbor with our whole being – he is summarizing the Jewish law.

The problem he is addressing here is not the law itself. The problem is the way the pharisees are interpreting the law. They observe the actions the law requires, but they perform them without the heart. They think they do the right things, but they get it wrong because they do them for the wrong reasons.

Their version of righteousness consists of completing a perfunctory, legalistic checklist. There is no love or compassion in their observance of the law. Consequently, their righteousness evokes no joy – in themselves or in others. The Pharisees’ vision of righteousness is the gastronomic equivalent of eating a stale turkey sandwich on 3 day-old bread in the dark. By yourself. 

That is not what God’s Kingdom is like. 

God’s Kingdom is a feast – a feast of love. It’s where the needs of the needy are filled and where they rejoice together with those who fill them. The glow and tastiness of the Kingdom are the direct result of the love that overflows from those who participate in it. That’s the vision Jesus offers to the crowds.

It’s a lot like Harry Potter’s first experience at Hogwarts. When he arrives in the Great Hall, his senses are overwhelmed. He’s never seen or tasted anything remotely like it. It fills him with joy. He has grown up thinking he is a nobody, but here at this feast he is very much somebody. He’s never felt a parent’s love or the care of a true friend. But at Hogwarts he’s got a whole host of surrogate parents and friends who will look after him.

He’s used to being stuck in a dark closet, living under the stairs in a home where he is not welcome. At Hogwarts, he lives in a castle. His roommate is his best friend and every meal is a banquet, bathed in light, salted with deliciousness, and enjoyed in the company of those who care deeply for each other. 

At this banquet, there are even those who have gone before. Remember Nearly Headless Nick floating around the Great Hall with all the other ghosts? Friends, that is as good an image of the Kingdom of God as we are likely to find. It’s the gathering of a family who are joined together by love and mutual care. Like the banquet at Hogwarts, the Kingdom glows with an exquisite ambience of warm light and copious amounts of the most exquisite nourishment. It is a feast – a love feast.

And you and I get a taste of that love feast right here at this table. This juice and bread are the presence of Jesus Christ for you and for me. He is the host at this meal. He reminds us that we belong to him, and he belongs to us. And we belong to one another because we belong to him. Communion is the foretaste of the heavenly banquet that awaits us in God’s Kingdom.

I measured the communion table this morning. It is   feet long and   feet wide. But it’s actually far bigger than that. This table extends out into time and space. Seated alongside of us are all the other souls everywhere who claim Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

And not just those who live today, but all those who have ever been baptized into Christ. When we celebrate communion in just a few moments, think about that. As you hold the bread and juice in your hand, close your eyes and think of the faces of all the loved ones who are seated with you at Christ’s love feast.

But remember. There is one crucial command that Jesus gives to everyone who eats at his table. Communing with him must not and cannot end at this table. What Jesus wants from you and me is for the love we experience here to overflow into our lives out there. 

If it doesn’t, then we have to wonder whether we are more like those Pharisees than we might like to believe, doing the right thing, but without the right motivation. In which case, we will eventually go astray, just as they did. But for you and me, our motivation is love. We have been loved. Jesus’ very presence among us is proof of the depth and breadth of God’s love for us. 

It’s up to us to respond by sharing that love, especially with those in need. That is what Jesus means when he tells his followers to let their light shine before others and to salt the earth with loving deeds. And we share our light and salt as a community, too, not just as individuals.

Where in your life does that love overflow? Maybe serving meals at Downtown Daily bread? Maybe building or repairing homes with our ROAR team? Maybe on a visit to a neighbor who needs a listening ear or a kind word, a cooked meal, or a ride to the doctor?

Maybe it overflows in the way you advocate and act for the poor and the marginalized, for those who look and live differently. It might mean standing up for those who come from strange places, who wear odd clothing, and have odd accents. They, too, are welcome in the Kingdom. 

What about at your own kitchen table? Friends and family need our light and salt, too. Friends, you don’t have to be a gourmet cook to welcome them and others into your home and into your life for a taste of the Kingdom. Whatever you might serve is going to taste a whole lot better with love.



 May it be so.