We Hunger and we thirst
By Dawn Frankfurt

 

Glory to the Holy and Undivided Trinity;

God who is Three in One and One in Three;

Who is beyond us, among us, within us;

Who was, and is, and is to come, world without end.  Amen.

 

I thought I would share a memory with you this morning.  I am thinking of a certain Thanksgiving Day in particular.  I think it was either 1988 or 1989.  At the time, I was in graduate school, studying Medieval English and creative writing at the University of Oklahoma.  I was in a phase of reading several things by C. S. Lewis.  I know most of you have heard that name.  He is one of the most popular Anglican theologians and apologists of the 20th Century.  He was a professor of English literature and language at Oxford, and an avowed atheist.  He became a Christian in 1931, when he, as he described it, was “surprised by joy.”  He found himself believing what he thought he never could.  In the 1950s he went on to teach Medieval and Renaissance English Literature at Cambridge.  His writings about Christianity have appealed to people in England, in the United States, and, I am sure, around the world.

 

At any rate, by the time I was in graduate school, I had already been identified as the one who would say the blessing before family meals.  I was at my parents’ house for Thanksgiving and a few hours before the big dinner, my Dad asked me if I would say something meaningful or offer a special prayer before we ate.  At that time, I was in the midst of reading a book called, “Surprised by Joy,” which is a compilation of selected C. S. Lewis writings.  One of the short excerpts I had just read came immediately to mind as something I wanted to share with my family.

 

So, when dinner was ready, and everyone had gathered around the dining room table, I read this to my family and followed it up with a short prayer before we had our Thanksgiving dinner that year.  It goes like this:

 


Friendship, by C. S. Lewis

 

“[Companionship] is often called friendship, and many people, when they speak of their “friends” mean only their companions.  But it is not Friendship in the sense I give to the word …

 

“Friendship arises out of mere Companionship when two or more of the companions discover that they have in common some insight which the others do not share and which, till that moment, each believed to be their own unique treasure (or burden).  The typical expression of opening Friendship would be something like, “What?  You too?  I thought I was the only one.”  We can imagine that among those early hunters and warriors single individuals – one in a century?  one in a thousand years? – saw what others did not; saw that the deer was beautiful as well as edible, that hunting was fun as well as necessary, dreamed that their gods might be not only powerful but holy.  But as long as each of these percipient persons dies without finding a kindred soul, nothing (I suspect) will come of it; art, or sport, or spiritual religion will not be born.  It is when two such persons discover one another, when, whether with immense difficulty and semi-articulate fumblings or with what would seem to us amazing and elliptical speed, they share their vision – it is then that Friendship is born.  And instantly they stand together in an immense solitude.

 

“Lovers seek privacy.  Friends find this solitude about them, this barrier between them and the herd, whether they want it or not.  They would be glad to reduce it.  The first two would be glad to find a third. 

 

“In our own time Friendship arises in the same way.  For us, of course, the shared activity and therefore the companionship on which Friendship supervenes will not often be a bodily one like hunting or fighting.  It may be a common religion, common studies, a common profession, even a common recreation.  All who share it will be our companions; but one or two or three who share something more will be our Friends.  In this kind of love, as Emerson said, Do you love me? means Do you see the same truth? – Or at least, “Do you care about the same truth?”  The one who agrees with us tat some question, little regarded by others, is of great importance can be our Friend.  They need not agree with us about the answer.

 

“Notice that Friendship thus repeats on a more individual and less socially necessary level the character of the Companionship which was its matrix.  The Companionship was between people who were doing something together – hunting, studying, painting, or what you will.  The Friends will still be doing something together, but something more inward, less widely shared, and less easily defined; still hunters, but of some immaterial quarry; still collaborating, but in some work the world does not, or not yet, take account of; still traveling companions, but on a different kind of journey.  Hence we picture lovers face to face but Friends side by side; their eyes look ahead.”

 

In this passage, which was taken from Lewis’ book titled, “The Four Loves,” we find him drawing a distinction between a Companion and a Friend.  One concept, that of Companionship, is very concrete – and the other concept, that of Friendship, is abstract.  Companions, he explains, do things together, and he gives examples of some earthy things they may do.  Together they may be hunters, fishers or warriors.  They hold rifles, fishing poles and grenades.  They aim at deer, drop a baited hook in the water, or blow up the enemy in the next foxhole.  We know that these are concrete things because we can picture them, we know what they look like, and if they were in front of us, we could touch them.

 

Abstract concepts are different.  Lewis says that the part of you which recognizes: that the deer is beautiful as well as edible, that hunting is fun as well as necessary, and that their gods aren’t just powerful, they are also holy – this part of you which recognizes these things, is the part that does your abstract thinking.  This part of you identifies, senses and dreams.  Usually, there is not a mental picture of how it feels to know your soul-mate.  We can, however; look at as many pictures of rifles, fishing poles and grenades as we want.

 

The part of the brain which does our abstract thinking is the same part of our brain which can differentiate between a Friend and a Companion.  Companions play golf together, but Friends know themselves to share an understanding about golf beyond the object of hitting a little white ball with a long skinny stick into a tiny hole 500 yards away.  For instance, Friends may share the idea that part of the reason they like to play golf is that it is an opportunity for them to be outside and to be in the beauty of creation and to be thankful for all that God has given to them.  Friends may share a common religion, common studies, a common profession, even a common recreation.  Friends have engaged their hearts and minds in similar ways – they “get” each other. 

 

In the verses leading up to this passage in the Gospel of John, Jesus has just turned the five barley loaves and two fish into more than enough food for 5,000 people.  When he leaves the crowd behind for the night, the disciples catch up with him on a lake.  They are in a boat and they him walking on the water.  When they get to the other side of the lake, the crowd which had gathered around the night before has caught up with them on the shore, and Jesus says something like this to them, “Hey, you guys don’t “get” it.  After everything you’ve seen, you are still coming to me because I provided bread for you to eat.  There is so much more than what meets the eye.”

 

The bead and the loaves are concrete things which those around Jesus could see and touch and eat.  Jesus reminds them that there is more than one way to think.  You don’t have to be caught up only in the concrete things.  No, the abstract things are important, and in this case, even more important than the concrete things. 

 

We eat a loaf of bread when our stomach tells us that our body is hungry.  When we eat, our hunger is satisfied.  But I know that we have a hunger and a thirst for what cannot be seen or felt or tasted.  We want and crave the meaning of life, for the reason that we are on this earth, for the explanation of that which will quench the desires of our hearts and souls.  This hunger, beyond that of the physical body, is what we yearn to satisfy. 

 

If the people around Jesus would take a moment to look beyond the twelve baskets of bread pieces left-over from the previous night’s feast, they might be able to hear what he was saying to them, “Look, there is more than one kind of bread.  There is the bread which feeds our bodies, and then there’s another kind of bread ...”  If we use C. S. Lewis’ terms, Jesus is offering us much more than mere Companionship.  In Christ, we will find the very thing for which we have hungered and for which we have been so thirsty. 

 

“Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”  Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

 

AMEN!