Eat & Drink the Christ

Sermon 358 St. Martin’s 114 (Riverway) 8/25/24

Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” He said these things while he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.

When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But among you there are some who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.”

Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

John 6:56-69

What is the strangest thing someone has said to you? There are just some comments that people say that will get stuck in your head, seemingly forever. I hate to say it, but church people are notorious for making some odd comments.

Years ago, when I was serving at a church in Virginia, I was up at the altar and Megan, my wife, was in a pew by herself (as is the fate of all clergy spouses), and at the Peace an older lady reached out her hand and then said to Megan, “You’re behaving quite well today.”

At that same church, after one of my sermons, I was having coffee in the parish hall when one person came up and said, “Well you really put me to sleep today.” And then proceeded to ask how my week had gone. This is the same guy who would time my sermons and tell me how long it was during the passing of the peace.

Okay, one more. At another church, I was the rector but I had our two assisting clergy do most of the service on one particular day; I read the gospel and did the announcements. One of the vestry members greeted me in the line after the service and said, “Since you didn’t really do anything today, do we have to pay you? It sure would save us some money.”

It's moments like those that I wonder if I’m in the Twilight Zone. “Did I just hear that right? Did anyone else see that?” I'm left speechless.

But I’m not innocent. I’ve been notorious when someone walking out of the church says to me, “Good sermon today.” I’ve replied, “You too!” Or after a funeral, I’ve said to the family without thinking, “Have a good one!

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This is the third and final week we’ve heard Jesus’ Bread Sermon, and it ends on quite a disturbing note. “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them.” The Message Version then says, “So the one who makes a meal of me lives because of me.”

Jesus had said and done some memorable things. He’d fed 5,000, walked on water, and preached the most memorable sermons they’d ever heard.

All of these were met with faith and amazement. But this whole thing about having to eat his flesh and drink his blood, well that seemed to be a bridge too far. People looked around and whispered, “Did I hear that right? Can you believe he said that?”

And what is even more surprising is that John doesn’t say this grumbling is coming from “the crowd,” a general term he uses for the multitudes from hither and yon who had come to see Jesus.

No, he uses the term disciples. This is a broader term than the 12 apostles who were hand-picked by Jesus himself. Up to this point, there was an even larger contingent of followers, that came along with Jesus and his inner circle wherever they went.

It's this large group of people who’ve considered themselves followers of this rabbi that suddenly are wondering if they’ve made the right choice. Things have quickly turned sour.

Jesus then goes on to make matters worse. He says that he will ascend to where he was before. What ascending? And where? He’s from nowhere Nazareth for crying out loud!

His words are full of God’s Spirit and life, he says. He’s a great preacher, but who does he think he is?

And then the icing on the cake. He claims that no one can come to him unless his Father enables them. Who does he think his Father is? Is he really implying that God is his Father? Why would God lead people back to Jesus? Is he on the same level as Yahweh?

What offended people about Jesus’ words? Practically everything. He had too high of a view of himself (who says they are the way, the truth, and the life?). He claimed he came down from heaven, and that through him people would be saved because he was the Bread of God, and that his death would not be an ordinary death, but that his flesh would be given for the life of the world. And the way to take part in his saving work was to eat his flesh and drink his blood.

According to one writer, people were offended simultaneously because of his high-from-heaven view of himself while also talking crudely about flesh and blood, and that somehow “the Word of God would ever transmute into the crucified flesh of a human being.”[ii]

You didn’t have to be Jewish to think these words were out of line. You just had to have ears to hear. And time and again Jesus had said to them, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”[iii] People were now listening alright, and they didn’t like what they were hearing.

This is a definitive moment in John’s Gospel and in Jesus’ ministry. The crowd of disciples and onlookers who desperately wanted to make him king earlier in this chapter begin to recede into the shadows after those fateful comments. The frenzy instantly dissipates, the sponsorships get revoked, and a letter goes out to the shareholders, “We do not know this man.”

As John puts it, “From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” Jesus was first-century canceled.  

Sweet and tender Jesus also has some important, but tough words to tell us. Words that don’t always seem logical or pastoral. In fact, his words rub against the grain of our assumptions and expectations of him.

Today’s reading is a great reminder of the totality of Jesus’ teaching, and a stern warning to anyone who assumes they know what’s going to come out of Jesus’ mouth. Like Aslan in Narnia, he is not a tame lion; he does as he pleases, but what he pleases is good.

When we talk about the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ, this portion of John 6 fits right into that message. It is not contrary to what he says elsewhere, nor an anomaly, as if he was just in a weird mood that particular day.

This is the same Jesus who said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”[iv]

Jesus claimed his yoke (his teaching) was easy! He said in him you’d find rest and be restored. But the disciples who decided to walk away that day were essentially saying, “You know, I’m not ready to take on this part of Jesus’ teaching. I’m going to look for the yoke of another. Maybe theirs is even easier.”

The Gospel is hard. It does not appeal to everyone, no matter how much some might water it down; to make it more tolerable to a modern person; to make it jive with the attitudes and fads of the day. The Gospel is strange and countercultural.

Remember Jesus’ words at the Last Supper when Peter says, “Lord, don’t wash my feet. Don’t do something like that. It’s unbecoming; embarrassing for a rabbi to do such a thing.”

Jesus looks up at him from his washbasin and says, “Peter, unless I wash you, you’ve got no part of me.”[v] Essentially, he’s saying, “I am who I am. I will do as I please, but what I please is good and true…and it is for you. Do you trust me?”

On that fateful day, Jesus essentially told the multitude of nominal disciples the same message, “Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood you will have no part of me.”

In baptism, we are washed by and filled with the Spirit, and in the Eucharist, we are mystically fed with Christ himself. To be a Christian means to be washed and fed, like sheep who are cared for by their Shepherd.

But that “being cared for” requires us to accept that we cannot fully care for ourselves. And I think that’s probably what turned that large group away from Jesus. They knew what they were looking for in a national leader, a messiah-like figure, and he wasn’t it. If you want the support of the majority, you need to play to the crowd, toe the party line; have your three points and stick to them.

As Jesus sees everyone walking away, I wonder if he was disappointed to not have the energy of the crowd anymore, or if he was relieved that now he could walk with those who really wanted to be with him. He asks the Twelve left standing, “Do you want to go too?”

My favorite writer Dale Bruner captures the scene perfectly. He says, “Jesus wants his people. And he wants their answer.”[vi] Peter’s response is essentially, “‘Lord, the alternatives are not good.’ If the Crucified-Risen Jesus is not God’s Word to the world, please, anyone, give us a more credible word.”[vii]

Look around my friends. Consider the voices throughout history. Listen to the voices that we constantly hear today. None of them are like Jesus. He is tough, he is unsettling at times, but he is good and worthy of our trust. That is the essence of faith—putting our trust in another.

But that can be hard. Trusting Jesus with everything you got may cost you, but not matter what, it'll change your life.

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I’m gonna close with a real-life example of a couple who put their trust in God’s uncomfortable call for their lives.

Years ago, I worked at a Presbyterian Church in Columbus, Georgia for a summer. My boss was the family minister at the church who had been out of seminary for a few years. He quickly became a mentor and friend.

A little over a year ago, he and his wife felt called by God to learn more about the foster care system in their area and discern if they would be a good fit for someone in foster care. Well, one quickly turned into two as young siblings, a girl and a boy, needed a home, and the supervisor thought they were the right couple for it.

It was a big adjustment for everyone. The kids were getting used to a new routine with these people they barely knew, and my friends were all of a sudden stepping on Legos and changing diapers. Life was not the same, there was a steep learning curve and sometimes they wondered what in the world had they gotten themselves into. But duty quickly turned into care and care into love.

And this past Friday, they went down to the courthouse with family and friends and adopted that beautiful girl and beautiful boy. And today, at this very hour, my friend, who is still a Presbyterian pastor, is baptizing his children.

In a matter of three days, those kids have been adopted, washed in the Spirit, and fed with the Body of Christ.

And you better believe that the same is true for each of us. In a matter of three days, Jesus’ crucifixion, death, and resurrection opened the way to adoption into his family, a seat at his table while wearing a garment of immortality he left for each of us in those baptismal waters.

Does the Gospel—in all of its beauty, its complexity, its nearness to the longing of every human heart, and knowing it is for you as well—does the Gospel ever just leave you speechless?[viii]

[i]https://www.google.com/search?q=have+a+good+flight+commercial&rlz=1C1RXQR_enUS1097US1097&oq=have+a+good+flight+comme&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUqBwgAEAAYgAQyBwgAEAAYgAQyBggBEEUYOTINCAIQABiGAxiABBiKBTINCAMQABiGAxiABBiKBTINCAQQABiGAxiABBiKBTINCAUQABiGAxiABBiKBTINCAYQABiGAxiABBiKBTIKCAcQABiABBiiBDIKCAgQABiABBiiBDIKCAkQABiABBiiBNIBCDMyMDRqMGo3qAIAsAIA&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:b53f0f67,vid:Gci2AOhpHLg,st:0

[ii] Dale Bruner. John Commentary 451.

[iii] Mark 4:9, NIV

[iv] Matthew 11:28-30, NIV

[v] John 13:8

[vi] Dale Bruner. John Commentary 457.

[vii] Dale Bruner. John Commentary 457.

[viii] Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back

                              Guilty of dust and sin.

But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack

                             From my first entrance in,

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,

                             If I lacked any thing.

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:

                             Love said, You shall be he.

I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,

                             I cannot look on thee.

Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,

                             Who made the eyes but I?

Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame

                             Go where it doth deserve.

And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?

                             My dear, then I will serve.

You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:

                             So I did sit and eat. -Love III, George Herbert