Have a Virtual Lunch with Me

Recently, I’ve started having virtual lunches with friends.

I’m sure you’ve probably done something similar, whether it’s holding meetings for work via Zoom or having family over for Easter dinner with Facetime. 

When I have a virtual lunch with you, I use Facetime and I sit at the dining room table—I never eat there,  I always eat at my computer, but for friends I make an exception—and I put my iPad directly across from me.  I make sure the lighting is just right and I try and put the iPad far enough away that you can’t count my nose-hairs, but also at eye level so that it feels like we’re actually sitting across from one another.

And then I sit there with my lunch and wait for you to get there.

It’s really been an enjoyable experience so far.  I have sat there and talked to friends for hours. 

It’s almost like having them right there in the room with me.

Almost.

Not quite, but almost.

Because there is something missing.

It’s presence.  It’s their physical presence.  It’s having an actual body sitting across from me. It’s not being able to hug them.

It’s not being able to, as the line from the old AT&T commercial goes, “Reach out and touch someone.”

Physical touch is so important.

I think back to when I was volunteering at the hospital a few months ago and praying with patients. Most of the time I didn’t touch them.  But sometimes they would reach out for me.  And you just can’t pull away from someone who is sick and suffering.  So, I would hold their hands.  Or I would lean over and say softly, “Is it okay if I put my hand on your shoulder?” 

Just that tiny thing, holding a hand, touching a shoulder or a foot, when most of the touch they experience in the hospital is a needle in the arm, or a blood pressure cuff squeeze, just that small touch while you pray with them, pulls them into the moment with you, pulls them into a place that is safe, a place where they can breathe easier.

Today’s reading—first from Exodus in the Old Testament and John in the New Testament—we get two contrasting stories as to what it meant at the time to be in God’s presence.

In Exodus, we see Moses, Aaron, Nadab and Abihu and seventy elders worshipping God—from a distance.  Moses alone can approach God, but the rest have to stay back.  Moses alone goes to God, talks with God, and then comes back and tells everyone what was said.

And then there are burnt offerings and blood, quite a lot of blood.

And then contrast that image with the story we are told in John with Peter and the others out fishing when Jesus arrives at the shore—post resurrection.

This is actually one of my favorite stories.

Peter has this Forrest Gump moment.

You remember that scene from the movie?  Forrest is out on his shrimping boat when he passes the dock and sees Lieutenant Dan sitting in his wheelchair.  Forrest gets this huge smile on his face and begins to wave and then starts walking toward Lieutenant Dan—right off the boat and into the water.  He then swims to the dock to greet his friend.

In today’s reading from John, Peter does something very similar.  He and the others are out on their boat, fishing, rather unsuccessfully, when a man appears on the shore.  He suggests that the fishermen try casting their nets on the other side of the boat and when they do, they wind up with so many fish, they cannot haul them all onto the boat.

This is when they realize the man on the shore is Jesus and Peter is so happy, he can’t wait for them to maneuver the boat back to shore.  He jumps into the water and swims to Jesus.

Now let’s look again at these two stories.

In Exodus, you have the people of Israel interacting with God from a distance.  They are interacting with God through an intermediary, in this case, Moses.  Think of it as the Bible’s very own social distancing program.

In John, you see Jesus sit with his disciples and cook breakfast for them, break bread with them.

In Exodus, the Israelites must offer burnt offerings and sacrifice oxen.  Moses literally covers the people with blood.

In John, Jesus is the sacrifice and it is his blood that saves us.

In Exodus, God is somewhere else.  He’s over there.  He watches over the Israelites.  He protects them, but their only tangible interaction with Him is in the form of sacrifices.  Their only connection to Him is through Moses.

Think of it this way.  Think back to my virtual lunches with friends.  Think of God as the face on the iPad.  Think of Moses as the iPad.  Think of the money you spent on the iPad as your sacrifice. 

(Please feel free to find as many problems with that analogy as you can.)

But while the Israelites’ interaction with God through Moses was the best they could hope for, Jesus offers something so much more.

You don’t need a virtual lunch with Jesus.

In John, Jesus cooks breakfast for his friends.  He’s right there with them.

And this, this is the precious gift of Jesus, that God is available to everyone.  No social distancing.  No being put on hold.  You can feel His presence right now.  He is there right beside you. 

He is present.  Always.

Amen.