John 6:47-69
"Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life.Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. 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.” The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” So Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day;for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. 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.
"Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life.Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. 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.” The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” So Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day;for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. 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.”
There are a million things I wish I could do, but I just can’t. I wish I could pull off wearing “skinny jeans.” I wish I could resist buying Swedish fish and subsequently eating the entire bag, -- which might explain my skinny jeans problem. I wish I could get by on just six hours of sleep a night. I wish I could leave the house without wearing makeup and not have someone come up to me and say, “you look tired.” These wishes have been going on all my life. In fifth grade, and weighing about 50 pounds soaking wet, and maybe four feet tall on my tiptoes, I wanted to play on the basketball team. When I was in high school, I wanted to ace AP Chemistry and even just pass calculus. I wished that just one boy would ask me to dance. (Whah wah...;) Now, I wish all kinds of things. I wish these Greek paradigms would forever etch themselves into my brain before my final on Thursday. I wish I had some useful skill that would actually make a difference in peoples’ lives. I wish I could stop doubting whether I have any use or purpose this world. And I wish I could just have a simple conversation with Pastor Jim without crying.
But ok, Jenn, let’s just take one step at a time. Let’s start out simple.
I wish I could figure out the mystery that is breadmaking.
At my liberal arts college, where everyone had to take a science class, no matter your major, they offered a special science class for those in the humanities - it was called “the biology of breadmaking.” And that’s exactly what it was; you’d study all the intricate steps in the science of breadmaking, studying sugars and yeasts, and compounds, and chemical reactions. It was a class for all of us hopeless humanities majors.
It’s a complicated process to make bread. If the yeast is too warm, it’ll die. If it’s too cold, it won’t activate. If you don’t put in the right sugars, the yeast will starve; you’ve got to knead the bread just enough without making the dough too hard, and if the humidity isn’t just right in your oven, then your crust will be too rubbery or the bread too dry, and it goes on and on. You have to be present with bread. You have to be aware at every step.
But for some of you, breadmaking is simple, just like how you can rock those skinny jeans and stay emotionally composed when you walk into this place. But I can’t seem to figure it out. For me, breadmaking is this complicated, intricate mystery that I can’t seem to get in on. It requires balance, and artistry, and trial and error.
This passage today is absolutely and totally about bread. And it’s absolutely and totally not about bread.
But that’s what metaphors do, isn’t it?
They point to and away from both the object and the idea behind that object.
And here we have a metaphor of bread that is as complicated to me as actually trying to make the stuff. It’s this complicated, intricate mystery that I can’t seem to get in on. Wading into these waters of metaphor require balance, artistry, trial and error. And a kind of presence.
In this passage, we have this crazy dialogue about bread, and Jesus seems to contradict himself all over the place.
Jesus leaves, fearing for his life and freedom, and goes across the lake.
And the crowd follows him.
And Jesus calls them out - he says, “you just want to find me because you want more bread.”
They’ve become adherents of the prosperity gospel - you know, Joel Osteen and the whole bit - follow Jesus and you’ll get stuff. I mean, who can resist FREE BREAD!
But Jesus redefines “bread.” - He tells them that real bread is that which gives life.
Jesus tells them that He’s the bread.
And this gets the crowds reeling.
They say, “isn’t this just the snotty peasant kid, the scrubby son of Mary and Joseph, from Nazareth - that hole of depravity and laziness and debauchery?”
And now he’s saying he’s the bread. “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.”
Presence. It’s about Presence. Which is this messy combination of all that we are and all that we were and all we will be. Presence. It’s that messy combination of all that God is, and all that God was, and will be. Presence is about what got you right here, right now, and is a starting off point towards where you will be.
But God offers us presence.
And it’s in the form of bread and spirit. “Berit.” “Spread.”
God offers to be present with us and satisfy our hunger: with bread -- the “real” concrete, stuff made of yeast and sugars and flour, and the “spiritual” eternal now - the moment when time stops, and all the things you can’t do and have failed to do and will never be able to do fade away, and there’s only presence. You and me and God. Here. Now.
This is the fullness of the bread metaphor.
Even on a purely metaphorical level, this is difficult and haunting, especially for the Jews. But taken
literally, it’s just, well, weird.
The crowd has come to him, saying, “bread bread bread! Give us the bread!”
And the Jews have come to him, saying, “spirit spirit spirit! Give us the spirit!”
The crowd has come to him wanting physical comfort and tangible signs. And Jesus says, it’s not about eating! It’s not about bread!
The Jews have come to him wanting spiritual and ethereal guarantees. And Jesus says, it’s about eating! It’s about bread!
And they’re both completely on the wrong track. They’ve both got it all wrong.
And yet. They’re both completely right.
It’s Bread. It’s Spirit. BreadSpirit. SpiritBread. “Brerit.” “Spread.”
With the crowd, and the Jews, and the disciples, and especially me, all still not getting it, Jesus tries again: and we get to what has been affectionately referred to as the “vampire passage.”
“Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.”
And it’s clear that no one is getting it STILL, and so Jesus keeps going!
He says, “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.”
Now. Stop. Stop where your brain is going right now. ‘Cause if it’s going where my brain was going, we’re on the wrong track. This isn’t about who gets into heaven. And this isn’t about the end times. This isn’t about some far off other-worldly realm of everlasting peace and happiness. When Jesus talks about eternal life, yes, even in the Gospel of John, he’s not talking about immortality or heaven, necessarily, although that might be a small part of it, but as O’Day and Hylen tell us in their commentary, it’s “a metaphor for living now in the unending presence of God;” it’s about “nourishment in the ongoing presence of God.” We’re not the ones who get scooped up into eternity. Eternity has come down to us.
Eternity has become Presence.
All throughout the Hebrew scriptures, manna and food and bread are all used as metaphors for wisdom, metaphors for God’s abiding presence. When the Hebrews were wandering in the wilderness, God sent them manna - not just to physically feed them, but to spiritually feed them - to tell them that their Adonai is with them always, even in the desert. God is present.
When an angel and ravens give Elijah bread while he’s hiding out in the wilderness, it’s not just to provide him with daily sustenance. It’s to encourage him that God is there.
In Isaiah and Proverbs, Wisdom, or Torah - the very presence of the teachings of God - is thought to come to those “who eat of her bread and drink of her wine.”
Bread makes us stop and think and re-member. Bread is a reminder of God’s presence, even as we try to be present ourselves.
It’s interesting to me that the crowd in this passage who comes to Jesus for more bread, is coming to Jesus with full bellies. They’ve just been fed. It’s like they’re hoarders or something. Like the Jews in the wilderness, they want to squirrel away the manna for future use. And it’s interesting to me that the Jews in this passage who come to Jesus for answers already seem to have the answers they want. They, too, want to have it all figured out so that there are no surprises in the future.
And they’re coming to “get something out of Jesus.” Not to be present with Jesus.
If we focus on just the bread or just the spirit, we miss it.
In chapter 6 of the Gospel of John, Jesus says “the flesh - my flesh - is what saves you” and “the flesh is useless.”
See, it’s not a 50/50 combination of bread and spirit. It’s 100% bread. 100% spirit. 100% life.
It has nothing to do with “bread.” And it has everything to do with bread.”
And this gets messy.
This gets difficult.
I’m always rushing between regretting who I am and what I’ve done and failed to do, and flailing around trying to become someone that I’m not and that I can’t ever be. Wishing I could fit in to those skinny jeans and be cool and have friends and make myself worth something. Wishing I could just have a little more bread. Wishing I could have just a little more understanding.
But there’s God, in the flesh. In the flesh. Or maybe in the bread is a better way to think of it. Offering us presence. Eternal presence.
And this doesn’t make a lot of sense to us. And it didn’t make any sense to the crowds or the Jews or even Jesus’ own disciples. And this is the watershed moment. This is the moment where you’re in or you’re out. The crowds leave. The Jews leave. Lots of disciples leave.
“This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?”
But there’s good ol’ Peter. The too quick-to-speak, flailing, dufus who gets it wrong when he tries to get it right, and then when he stops trying and is simply present, once in awhile, he gets it right. He says, “Lord, to whom can we go?” We don’t have anyone else. You’re it. You’re all we’ve got. You’re HERE.
So I’m not very good at the practical application of all this stuff. But, here you go - this is the best I can do - be hungry. Know you’re hungry. Know where you are right now - which is hungry. Hungry for food. Hungry for bread. Hungry for lunch that’ll come in about 15 more minutes. Hungry for the presence of God in community. Then come to the Presence to eat your fill.
Jesus Christ is forever and always inviting us to be present to the Presence - to the one who is for us both spiritual and physical nourishment. That’s where the life is. Come. Eat your fill. Eat the yeast and the flour and the juice and the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Come hungry for the life which satisfies. Here and now. Come hungry for the presence.
Thanks be to God.
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