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One of the authors that I have been reading a lot of lately is this old Jewish mystic named Ernst Bloch.
Bloch lived in Germany. And he started to write for public consumption in the late 1910’s [His Spirit of Utopia was published in 1918]. But as fascism arose in Europe and in his own home country, Bloch and his wife, Karola, were forced to flee. And so they did. They left. And they went from one country and then to another, and then to another, and then to another, all over Europe, until finally they landed here in the US, in New York, where they lived for quite a while as a refugees.
In spite of the horror and homesickness that Bloch was living through as a result, or perhaps because of it (?),
Bloch never stopped for his whole adult life writing about hope.
One of Bloch’s most interesting ideas, for me, is this idea,
this concept,
that he calls Utopian Surplus.
Utopian Surplus.
Basically, using the concept, he says this:
he says that:
in any work of imagination,
in any artistically created thing,
any song, or painting, or sculpture…
or even a sermon (right?)
or a political speech…
He says that in that thing
that there exists…
(even long after its creator is gone)
traces:
left-overs,
residue
of the hopes and dreams of the artist who made it.
And he says that if we access that object (whatever it may be),
or if we approach it from just the right angle,
we can actually tap into those hopes and dreams that are still buried deep down in there.
And if we can tap into those buried hopes and dreams, he says,
those hopes and dreams can become food,
and they can become fuel,
for our own hopes and dreams.
If we can tap into those buried hopes and dreams, those hopes and dreams can become food, and they can become fuel, for our own hopes and dreams.
Hope helps us to hope.
Amen?
This is Utopian Surplus:
Hopes and dreams of a better life,
buried all around us,
waiting for us to tap into them,
and to hope with them hopes for a better world.
***
In really ancient days,
it is said,
that the Diviners of Old
(the oracles, the fortune tellers, and so on)...
It is said that these folks would perform a really important service for the people in their town or in their tribe.
You see, anxious people would come to the Diviner,
frightened, and so also curious about the future.
And so what the Diviner would do,
Is the Diviner would make a small sacrifice,
perhaps a small animal. [A lamb?]
And after making the sacrifice,
it is said that the Diviner
would then take the entrails of the sacrifice,
[Imaginarily lift and put entrails into the chalice.]
and the Diviner would arrange them,
and then lift the cup up to the heavens,
[Lift the cup up.]
and then take a sip.
And eating the entrails, and drinking the blood,
the Diviner would become able to see the future.
Eating the entrails, and drinking the blood,
the Diviner would become able to see the future.
And this was comforting:
to know how the crops
or how the wars
or how the marriage would turn out.
Amen?
One could eat and drink
and see the future.
And it was comforting.
***
The first Christians, who appeared a couple thousand years ago
(so a little late right?,)…
The first Christiana took a slightly different approach.
According to many of them,
no one could really know what the future holds.
It was “unseen,” right?
No one could really know what it’d look like.
A thief in the night...
A dim mirror, a foggy looking glass…
These are the images the Christian scriptures call to mind about the future.
We can’t really know it.
And whatever we do know, it’s pretty fuzzy.
And if it isn’t fuzzy, I hate to say it…
it’s probably a metaphor.
If it isn’t fuzzy, it’s probably a metaphor.
Yet, in the midst of all of their unknowingness,
in the midst of life’s unpredictability,
in the midst of a pretty oppressive empire that persecuted them,
these Christians, who couldn’t see the future, still got together
and shared a Cup.
They ate the Body of Christ, and shared in the blood of his “sacrifice.”
(This is how they spoke of it, all over the Mediterranian and even as far as India).
And even though this Cup did not reveal the future,
It did, it seems…
and perhaps it still does…
contain something of a surplus.
Because for those Christians:
In the chalice...
In the bread…
there were infused: hopes and dreams waiting to be shared by those who gathered.
When they ate,
they couldn’t see the future,
but they did have something even better.
Because, eating and drinking of the Messiah, they would begin to dream the Messiah’s dreams.
***
“Blessed are the poor in spirit,” they dreamt.
“Blessed are those who mourn.”
“Blessed are the meek.”
“And those who hunger.”
“And those who thirst for justice.”
“Blessed are the merciful… and the peacemakers… and the pure of heart.”
“Blessed are the persecuted and the oppressed!”
“For the last shall be first.”
“For the lowly shall be lifted.”
“For every tyrant shall be removed from every throne.”
This stuff’s really in the bible. I swear.
“Blessed are you! For the Reign of God—the Reign of God and not this horrible, oppressive empire that persecutes you—is near!”
“And soon and very soon, all people will be able to eat.”
These are the dreams of the Messiah.
These are Jesus’ radical messianic dreams.
These are the dreams that those first Christians ate and drank
and dreamt together.
***
When we eat and when we drink,
we may not see the future,
but perhaps we will begin to dream Jesus’ messianic dreams.
Amen?
***
I think, considering the occasion today,
that it is both incredibly beautiful and ridiculously meaningful,
[also: cute]
that the chalices we will be using to take communion today
were hand-made by Tyler and Samantha.
These chalices are the work of their own hearts and hands.
And so, if this guy I talked about earlier… this Jewish mystic…
If Ernst Bloch was right,
(and I think he was)
these even as these chalices hold some of Jesus’ radical hopes and dreams,
these chalices also hold something of the dreams that Samantha and Tyler were dreaming and hoping
as they prepared for today,
as they prepared for this wedding,
and as they prepared for their life together in marriage.
A mix of hopes and dreams, gathered here
[hold up cup]
shared, sipped, savored
by all of us.
Amen?
+++
Samantha and Tyler, you have made such a gigantic impact in our lives, and in the City of Chicago, in our communities, at our school, in our churches…
You have touched touched and enhanced the lives of so many people, a fraction of which are gathered here today.
In your work and in your community involvement, you have held, more than almost anyone I know, a clear vision for the world as it should be—a vision, it seems to me, inspired by the one dreamt and then proclaimed by Jesus in the Gospels today.
I imagine that might be one of the reasons you chose it as a reading for your wedding day.
I can’t speak for everyone, but I know a ton of us in Chicago, [and Kansas City, MO, and Kentucky…]
already miss you immensely.
And we love you.
And because of that, we also can’t wait to see what you’re gonna be and what your gonna shake up in Nebraska!
Amen?
And I certainly have no doubt that whatever you two create together, it’s gonna be pretty ridiculously… lit.
Please know that whatever your hopes and dreams for your years ahead, that there’s a ton of love and hopes for you here, too, all around you, infused in all of these hearts and bodies.
And it’s love and it’s hopes and it’s dreams that are overflowing for you.
***
May your hopes and dreams always be deep and unbridled.
And may Christ feed them always with the dreams that surround you,
with Christ’s infinite presence and everlasting hope.
Amen.
And of course always remember:
There is nothing you can do to make God love you more.
And there is nothing you can do to make God love you less.
God loves you always, and you are a beloved child of God,
From now and into every future we could ever dream or imagine.
In the name of the Beloved, the Lover, the Love.
Amen.
Note:
The two main concepts in this sermon, Utopian Surplus and Dreaming-the-Messiah’s-Dreams, come from Ernst Bloch and Rubem Alves, respectively. Utopian Surplus you can read more about in Bloch’s Spirit of Utopia and Principle of Hope (especially volume one). Alves’ eucharistic understanding, informed by “eating the entrails” and “dreaming the dreams” is the understanding articulated in my own words above. He presents it in his amazing theopoetic work called The Poet, The Warrior, and The Prophet.
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