There's a line in our communion liturgy that catches me up nearly each time I read it. You'll hear it again in a few minutes, when we turn to page 9 and start into the Great Thanksgiving. In that prayer we're speaking to God, thanking God for the many gifts and blessings of the saving power which courses through the history of God's people.

I will say: "Holy are you, and blessed is your Son, Jesus Christ. Your Spirit anointed him (remember?), to preach Good News, to proclaim release and recovering of sight, to set at liberty those who are oppressed. . . ." And then comes that one line that tells us just how Jesus did that, filled with the power of the Spirit. It says, in one simple sentence: "He healed the sick, fed the hungry and ate with sinners."

Did you ever stop to wonder about that? The "healing the sick" and the "feeding the hungry" parts we expect. That was his job, and it's our job, too. But eating with sinners? Eating with sinners as a way to proclaim good news, to open eyes, to set at liberty?

It seems to me that that one little phrase points us in two directions simultaneously. "He ate with sinners." If we know a little of the story of Jesus life, we know that he did, in fact, sit down to dinner not just with his friends, disciples, and supporters, but those with whom proper society had shunned-tax collectors, women of questionable repute, the poor. Jesus ate with sinners as a way of proclaiming good news, of opening eyes, of offering release. He ate with sinners as a way of demonstrating that the scope of the great love of God embraces all.

He ate with sinners to show us that everyone is welcome in the house of God, that, in fact, God yearns for all people to come in and find peace and healing for their soul. If Jesus, the Lord of Life, made the intentional effort to usher people into the Kingdom, we are to do the same, in his name. We are to extend a radical welcome, reaching out and inviting in to this table any and all who would come. We are to open our hearts to them, just as he did. We are to offer them dignity and respect, just as he did. We are to show them the path of life, just as he did. He ate with all God's children, all kinds of people, including those we call "sinners."

That one phrase points us in another direction as well, one that may be even harder for us to face. He ate with sinners, meaning not only "those others," but us. In a passage from Romans, Paul wrote: "It is proof of God's love for us, that Christ died for us while we were still sinners."

You know, a lot of people avoid coming to church because they don't feel worthy enough. Some people stay away on Communion Sundays because they don't feel that they're good enough to receive the sacrament. They've somehow got the idea that God doesn't want to have them around until they get their act together.

A lot of us who did make it inside the church's doors this morning may well be feeling a bit of that. We know the things we have done that we ought not to have done. We know the things we have not done that we ought to have done. We know the ways we have failed to love God and our neighbor as ourselves. And sadly, our reaction sometimes is to hold our breath and hope that maybe God won't notice too much. We pray that we'll make it up the aisle and back to our seats before we're found out.

Jesus ate with sinners just like us. He knew we'd feel inadequate and unworthy. He knew how badly we can mess up. He knew our broken hearts and self-doubt. So-in the power of the Holy Spirit, in order to open our eyes and have us hear some Good News and set our hearts at liberty -he pulled up a chair and sat down at our table and broke bread with us, for us.

Jesus tried every way he could think of to tell us and show us that God's great overflowing love is for us, all of us, even poor sinners like you and me. And so we come to his table, not hiding, not fearful, not cringing . . . but open, ready to receive the life he offers, deeply grateful for a love that is always bigger and stronger and wiser than the particularities of our brokenness and need.

In her book, Traveling Mercies, Anne Lamott wrote that we are not punished for sin but by it. Unhealed, unreconciled, it eats away at our spirits and keeps us from growing into the fullness of who we are created to be. And so, to heal us and set us free, Jesus comes among us, pulls up a chair and shares a meal. He offers us the truth of our lives and a way to be made whole.

He ate with sinners, and he is here to eat with us this day. And so, we come now as those who know our need of grace. We come knowing that, miraculously, we will find it here, again and again and again and again. Here everyone will find a gracious welcome. Here each will be embraced. Here we will find healing and renewed strength. Here we will discover that we, too, can have generous hearts and grateful spirits. We can know his gift of welcome and his gift of generosity.

O God, pour out your Holy Spirit on these gifts of bread and wine. By your Spirit, make us one with Christ, one with each other, and one in ministry to all the world.

Amen.

© Patricia E. Farris, 2002. Permission is given for brief quotation with attribution. All other rights reserved.