Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Gospel: John 6:51-58

A reading from the Gospel of John.
Glory to you, O Lord.

[Jesus said,] “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.”

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, O Christ.

Now let the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you O Lord, our strength and Redeemer

INTRO

Once again, we have another story about bread. The moment Jesus talks about the bread being his flesh, the people lost their minds. The line “The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” I will get into this more in a bit but disputed among themselves…could also mean among other things…offended. 

Which got me thinking…When was the last time Jesus offended you? When has Jesus said something that caused you to trip and stumble? Which of his teachings has caused you to think or say, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” When have you wanted to turn back from following his way because it was more than you could swallow?

I don’t hear many people today talking about stumbling over Jesus’ teachings, complaining that they are difficult, or being offended by what he says and does. And when I look at my own life I don’t see myself taking offense at or complaining about Jesus either. Why not? Why aren’t we more offended by Jesus? Why aren’t we stumbling and struggling to live the gospel more than we are? 

The people in today’s gospel are. Many of Jesus’ disciples were grumbling and complaining to each other that his teaching was difficult and more than they could accept. Many of Jesus’ disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. They could no longer stomach his gospel and what it asked of them. The bread of life isn’t always sweet.

And it’s not just in today’s gospel that that happens. 

  • Remember the rich man who went away grieving, shocked that Jesus told him to sell what he owned, give the money to the poor, and then come follow him (Mark 10:17-22)? 
  • Or how about that time Jesus went back to Nazareth and taught in the synagogue “and they took offense at him”? In Luke’s version of that story the people are so angry they want to throw Jesus off the cliff (Luke 4:29). 
  • And there was that time Jesus called the Pharisees hypocrites and they took offense at him (Matthew 15:1-12). 
  • During the Passover meal Jesus told his disciples, “You will all be scandalized, offended, and made to stumble because of me this night” (Matthew 26:31 my translation). We see it in Peter’s denial and Judas’ betrayal but what about us.

I don’t think we want to get offended, because we don’t want to look at Jesus’ words hard enough to be offended. It might reveal things we don’t want to see or hear. I think most of us work pretty hard not to be offended by Jesus and his gospel. But what if we should be offended? 

TEXT

When the text says they “disputed among themselves” about these words from Jesus that is putting it mildly. The better translation would be “argued violently/angrily” and “offended.” As we shall see in next week’s Gospel, many got so upset that they left following after, and listening to, Jesus altogether. This business of eating flesh and drinking blood was a most offensive thing to say to Jewish people. Many of the laws about keeping kosher have to do with the avoidance of blood—drinking it, or eating flesh with blood in it, etc. 

How are we to understand what Jesus said? What are we to make of such language? What is John trying to tell us with all these “bread” stories we find in chapter six? There’s the feeding of the 5000, the many references to the exodus from Egypt and God’s provision of manna from heaven, Jesus’ claims to be the true bread from Heaven, and now this cannibalistic reference to eating and drinking Jesus himself. It’s all a bit much for our modern sensibilities. We prefer our religion neat and clean, and appropriately done, and appropriately metaphorical if you please. 

So did many of the people to whom John was writing when he composed his Gospel maybe 50 years after the death and resurrection of Jesus. They were not only offended at this language about eating and drinking Jesus; they were also offended by the very idea that Jesus was really, truly human. They preferred to think that he was a sort of ghost who only appeared in human form, but who was really all spirit. 

There was a philosophy about that the body was bad, and the spirit was good, and that true religion consisted of being really and truly spiritual. Therefore, many who became Christians with this “spiritual” idea in their heads decided that Jesus, the ultimate “spiritual person,” wasn’t really human—wasn’t “really real.”

John’s emphasis on Jesus’ fleshiness is meant to counteract this notion. The Greek word used here is sarx. It denotes meat, flesh. The alternate word John could have used is soma, which means body. By choosing sarx John is making it clear that Jesus was a real live human being who ate and slept and went to the bathroom. That was important then, and it is important now. If Jesus only appeared or seemed to be human, then his suffering was not real suffering, his death was not a real death, and his resurrection was not a real return from to the land of the living—it was just a show, a trick, an illusion. For salvation to really be a thing, it is necessary that Jesus be a real human being who lived and taught and was tried and suffered and died and went to hell and was brought back to life by the power of God. Otherwise, it’s just a nice story and it really doesn’t change anything. In the end it doesn’t communicate anything to us about God’s love and our life. 

LIFE

Maybe the degree to which we are or can be offended by the gospel is the degree to which we believe it to be and experience it as flesh and blood real. Maybe that’s why the people in today’s gospel are grumbling, complaining, and taking offense. They know Jesus isn’t simply talking about bread and wine. He’s talking about a life that is flesh and blood real. 

If the gospel is not flesh and blood real it won’t offend us or cause us to stumble and fall. It asks nothing of us. It’s food out of a box but it’s not the bread of life. 

It’s some nice ideas about how to live, and some feel good verses to memorize, but there is no life within us. It becomes what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace.” 

When the gospel gets flesh and blood real, that’s when we get offended and angry. Let me give you some examples.

  • No one is offended when Jesus tells us to love our neighbor. Love is good news for everyone. It’s not offensive until our neighbor is flesh and blood real—someone who looks, acts, and believes differently from us. Then it’s a different story.
  • Forgiveness is good. It’s part of a healthy relationship. I’m in favor of forgiveness, at least in theory. But forgiveness doesn’t happen in theory. It happens in the flesh and blood reality of someone who hurt or betrayed us, someone who may not repent or even care, someone who may continue to hurt us. You mean I have to forgive even them?
  • Jesus said that whatever we do or do not do for the “least of these” we either do or do not do for him. He gives several examples including one about welcoming strangers. (Matthew 25:35, 43). We are to welcome the stranger as Jesus. Jesus is in every stranger, every needy person. That’s beautiful until it is flesh and blood real, until the stranger is a migrant at our border, in our town, on our property. Then what do we do?
  • We love the cross of Jesus. We wear it, hang it on our walls, and decorate with it. It reminds us of how much Jesus loves us. We follow his way of the cross. We know that means denying ourselves, taking up our cross, and following him. But what happens when we’re asked to give up our individual autonomy or change an aspect of our life for the well-being of someone else? That’s when the cross becomes flesh and blood real.

If loving, forgiving, welcoming, and taking up our cross—and a thousand other things Jesus taught and did—do not offend and challenge us, cause us to look at how were are living, make us reconsider our beliefs and actions, then maybe the gospel just isn’t flesh and blood real for us. 

Maybe we’ve disembodied the gospel and separated the Word from everyday flesh. And if the gospel is not flesh and blood real, then what difference does it make? Why are we here tonight/today?

CONC

I want us to live a gospel that is flesh and blood real. I want us to be offended by it. I hope the gospel never loses its power to offend. And I hope you and I never lose our capacity to be offended. 

Here’s why I say that. Every time the gospel offends us we have bumped up against a limitation in our life. When the gospel is offensive it’s showing us something about ourselves. It’s revealing the limits of our love, forgiveness, welcome; the limits of our justice, peacemaking, compassion; the limits of our life and humanity. And it’s pointing the way to new life and more life. 

What if we should be offended by Jesus and the gospel? What if our offense at the gospel is not a failure but an opportunity for abundant life? What if what offends us is opening a door to new life and calling us to grow and change? What if each limitation against which we bump is a starting line and not the end of the line? 

“Do you also wish to go away?” That’s the question Jesus asked the offended disciples. It’s the question we face every time we are offended and bump up against our limitations. It’s the question we face every time the situation is difficult, messy, unclear, and asks more of us than we want to give. Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes we turn back and we defend ourselves rather than let ourselves be offended. Other times, however, we trust that the very person or situation that offends us has “the words of eternal life.” 

Which is it for you and me today?