Press here to listen to the sermon by Rev. Dr. Rebecca Voelkel
The Lone Wild Bird in lofty flight is still with Thee, nor leaves Thy Sight. And I am Thine, I rest in Thee, Great Spirit come and rest in me.
Today is World Communion Sunday and it falls amidst our exploration this fall of the theme of Beloved Community and Theologies of Peace. World Communion Sunday also falls amidst some terrifying milestones for our country: a meeting with hundreds of generals and admirals in which the president talked about using military action against the “enemy within;” the beginning of indictments against the president’s so-called enemies; and the use of Blackhawk helicopters to rappel in the middle of the night and take an entire building of people in Chicago into custody, many of them naked children.
In this context, I would like for us to consider what is communing? And what difference does communion make—in our lives and in the world?
Rob Avis is an engineer who recently shared this:
“Most people think sequoias survive because they’re massive. But that’s not even close to the real reason. If you’ve ever had the privilege standing beside one of these giants, you’ll find it hard NOT to think of resilience. These trees can live through droughts, fires, storms, and climate shifts that would kill almost anything else.
But as an engineer this is what I’m fixated on: The tallest tree in the world has roots that only go 6-12 feet deep. That should be impossible. A 300-foot tree with shallow roots makes no sense from an engineering perspective.
But… Sequoias don’t survive alone.
Their root systems spread 50-80 feet wide and interweave with every other sequoia around them. They share nutrients, water, and structural support. When storms come in, they support each other.
The forest is the system: Not the individual trees.
I couldn’t stop thinking about this.
Most people try to build resilience by making themselves bigger, stronger, more independent. They stockpile resources, they build higher walls, they go it alone.
But the most resilient systems in nature are interconnected.
Maybe the question isn’t “how do I become more self-sufficient?” but “how do I become more meaningfully connected to the right systems?””
I think the first thing to say is that communion is about interconnection, reciprocity, mutual dependence. Communion is about the wisdom of the Sequoias. Communion is a strategy for resilience.
When the hour came, Jesus took his place at the table, and the apostles with him. Jesus said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer…
Our scripture reading for this morning is taken from the end of Luke’s gospel. It tells the story of Jesus sharing a Passover meal with the disciples just before his arrest, betrayal, trial, and crucifixion. In it, Jesus is instructing the disciples on how they are to live after he is crucified.
Then Jesus took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me. And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.”
The second thing is that communion is an act of deepest solidarity with both suffering and death as well as with healing and resurrection. Jesus invites us to do this “in remembrance of me” just before he makes his journey toward Good Friday and Easter Sunday. By saying, “do this in remembrance of me,” Jesus asks us to participate, to commune, with him… in both the cross and the empty tomb. “Do this in remembrance of me” happens each time we break bread together. But it also happens each time we act out of that mystical connection… act out of that sacred covenant… act out of deep relationship, with God as well as all of those with and for whom God desires liberation, healing, justice: which is all of creation.
As I think about communion as an act of deepest solidarity with both suffering and death as well as with healing and resurrection, I have been reflecting on Wakan Tipi Awanyankapi.
Lyndale UCC has been working with Wakan Tipi Awanyankapi as a reparatory partner for four years. We have been following what they have asked of us as they are about the work of regeneration, restoration, and repair.
Wakan Tipi Awanyankapi has been a sacred site for Dakota people for hundreds of years. It is on the flood plain for the Mississippi River with a cave known as Wakan Tipi that was filled with rock art that told the story of the sacredness of the place, as well as a sacred burial site on the bluffs above it known as Wicahapi.
When many of our European ancestors came and participated in conquest and colonization, they also brought industrialization. As the Wakan Tipi Awanyankapi website says, “heavy industrial use has changed this land significantly. Wetlands were filled in, trees removed, and the earth, air, and water were polluted. The entrance to Wakan Tipi, where ancient Dakota petroglyphs were located, were destroyed to make room for the railroad. After a century of industrial use, the land was abandoned and became an informal city dump. The land was heavily polluted, neglected, and forgotten, until 1997, when East Side and Lowertown community activists joined together to reclaim and restore this site. They created Wakan Tipi Awanyankapi.
“In 2003, more than 150 volunteers helped to remove 50 tons of trash from the sanctuary. Additionally, 13 tons of soils contaminated with asbestos, mercury, and other pollutants were removed from the site and clean soil was brought in… After years of dedicated effort, on May 21, 2005, the Bruce Vento Nature Sanctuary was opened to the public. Due to the ongoing hard work of Wakan Tipi Awanyankapi, the City of Saint Paul, and community partners and volunteers, the sanctuary is thriving with six ecosystems including floodplain forest, dry prairie, oak savanna, bluff prairie, oak woodland, and spring-fed streams and wetlands. As the water and native trees and plants have returned to heal this land, so too have returned the wildlife. You can spot river fish and painted turtles in the ponds, white tailed deer, rabbits, wild turkey, and garter snakes throughout the prairie. Bumblebees, butterflies, and dragonflies buzz amongst the flowers in bloom. And of course, you’ll hear the singing of countless bird species passing through, nesting, or wintering here along the Mississippi Flyway.”
However, invasive species (known as displaced relatives by Native leaders) still populate the area and the work of land reclamation and healing is ongoing. The Green Team, and especially Melia, have led Lyndale to participate in the ongoing efforts to repair and support the health of Wakan Tipi as the sacred site it is.
I find the story of Wakan Tipi a really helpful instruction in the practice of communion. Particularly in this time.
Communing with Wakan Tipi and Wicahapi is first about communing with the attempted crucifixion of both the people and the land. Following Jesus’ call to “do this in remembrance of me” is to remember the 150 years of the forced removal of whole communities, of destruction of the petroglyphs and the entrance to the cave, of the poisoning of the soil and the desecration of the sacred burial site. Communing is opening our hearts to the grief and the suffering.
Communing is also participating in the regeneration, in the reclamation, in the resurrection. None of that was immediate. Participating in the resurrection of Wakan Tipi has been thousands upon thousands of conscious choices over thirty years to remove garbage, to remove soil and heal it elsewhere, to plant and cultivate healing relatives and remove displaced relatives. Communing with Wakan Tipi is about looking into the face of destruction and choosing to participate in the slow, slow building.
Our pericope (our portion of scripture for the day) starts with “when the hour came.” It refers to the beginning of Jesus’ passion story. But this phrase has been tugging at me all week.
It feels to me as if the hour has come for us. In the way that time folds in on itself in mystical ways, Jesus is inviting us today, in this hour, to sit at table with him. Amidst talk of enemies and the inhumane acts of a growing American authoritarian regime, Jesus says, “do this in remembrance of me.” Here and now, follow the wisdom of the sequoias, eat and drink and bear witness to the crucifixions and grieve, yes, grieve. But eat and drink of the resurrection, too. Participate in the building, wherever you can find it: at Wakan Tipi, in acts of kindness, in mutual aid, in solidarity.
The hour has come… do this in remembrance of me. Amen
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