Tiles painted by Mimi Ross Blank
delivered by Lauren Mosso
on 16 August 2009
‘I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.’
In the ancient world, as in many places in the world today, bread is the most basic and fundamental food of life. Even in the Lord’s Prayer we ask ‘Give us this day our daily bread’ as a representation of asking God to give us the basics, so that we don’t go hungry. And when Moses and the Israelites were wandering through the desert, God kept them from starvation by providing them with daily bread, in the form of manna from heaven, which as you may remember lasted for exactly one day (apart from the Sabbath, when it lasted for two). And this whole ‘Bread of Life’ section of John’s Gospel begins with Jesus taking bread, giving thanks, and feeding the 5,000 abundantly.
But here, in today’s Gospel reading, we are talking about a different kind of abundance – one that is often misunderstood. Jesus is saying that he is the living bread, and he is inviting us to eat – and even moreso, to chew on his flesh and to drink his lifegiving blood.
No wonder the Jewish religious leaders disputed about this quite vigorously among themselves. For them, it was scandalous to eat any kind of blood, and they took great care to drain the blood out of any meat before it would be eaten, as blood was considered to be the life force. And it is not just the Jewish leaders of Jesus’ time who have trouble with this concept. About two years ago some of the other theology students and I had the privilege of attending an Iftar dinner which was hosted by a Muslim couple and some of their friends. They very patiently explained many aspects of their faith to us throughout the evening, and it was only after dessert, when they felt a bit more comfortable with us, that they asked, ‘Do you really eat the flesh and drink the blood of Jesus?’
It is not a simple thing for people who are not Christians to understand how we believe that Jesus’ flesh is ‘true food’ and his blood is ‘true drink’. Even Christians ourselves sometimes fail to capture the meaning of God’s lavish self-giving love in the symbolic ‘bread’ and ‘wine’ in our Eucharistic celebrations.
Yet this is at the heart of today’s Gospel reading. Flesh and blood remind us of death and sacrifice, but here they are juxtaposed with food and drink, the stuff of sustenance. Death is partnered with eternal life. Yes. This is why many people don’t get Christianity. As Christians we worship God who, in Jesus Christ, so fully entered into our human condition as to willingly experience the worst humanity had to offer, out of a boundless love for humanity and all of creation. This understanding of a loving God is lost on the many people in our society who actively try to avoid God, or any mention of God. Certainly the ‘god’ most athiests refuse to believe in is nothing like this God.
In this passage Jesus says, ‘I am the living bread that came down from heaven’, reminding us that he is the living, eternal Word of God: ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.’ Jesus is Holy Wisdom, who calls us down through the ages, ‘Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.’
Wisdom calls us into a mature faith and discipleship. Jesus calls us into a dynamic, lively and ongoing relationship: ‘Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.’ This is beautiful imagery, when we think of the Lord’s Supper, and the closeness we feel when we partake in communion with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, physically ingesting bread, chewing on it, and drinking wine, or grape juice. The Lord’s Supper gives us one way of living and remembering the story of the life, death and Resurrection of Jesus, encapsulated in a ritual that also represents a foretaste of the heavenly banquet. It also represents the ancient custom and intimacy of table fellowship as we partake in the community that is the church. And Jesus is host and guest, food who feeds us.
But if we take this passage simply to be an encouragement to partake in the Lord’s Supper, then we are missing the point, as much as the Lord’s Supper is vital to our spiritual nourishment and wellbeing, and to feeding us on the journey.
It is also an invitation to live Eucharistically. We are being called into communion with a crucified God in our daily lives, not just when we come to the Lord’s Table. We are called to engage with those who suffer, both inside and outside the church, and both inside themselves (in terms of brokenness and grief) and on the outside (in terms of various kinds of injustice and marginalisation), and to offer Christ’s loving hospitality. Read on in John’s Gospel and you will see that being called into discipleship of this kind was too challenging for some. But read on throughout scripture and in the Basis of Union and you will find that we are ‘called into the fellowship of [Christ’s] sufferings, to be the disciples of a crucified Lord’ with all that this entails.
This is what it means to eat – to ‘munch’ and to ‘crunch’ Jesus’ flesh.
We are called to abide in Jesus, and to offer him hospitality to abide within us in our intentional life of prayer and action, or action and reflection if you prefer. We are called to listen for the Word of God in scripture, and to worship God in the community that is the church. When we take time to rest in the love of God, prayerfully discerning the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives and in the world around us, we become better at perceiving it, and we receive grace upon grace. In this way, we are inspired to grow in our capacity to love and in our compassion as disciples of Jesus.
Abiding in Jesus — living in Jesus — means living in love. In this way we gain eternal life in the here and now, and live out ‘an authentic life that fulfills God’s intentions.’
Jesus offers us more than a glimpse of the heavenly banquet. He is the heavenly banquet. Let us walk in his way of insight. Amen.
