"When many of the disciples heard it, they
said, ‘This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?’” (John 6:60)
I can’t say that I blame the disciples for saying what they say in the above quote from the appointed Gospel reading for Pentecost 13, Year B (John 6: 56-69). After all, Jesus just told them “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. (v.56)” Even the most devoted of followers might cavil just a bit at cannibalism (I know I would!).
But, of course, Jesus isn’t really talking about eating human flesh or drinking human blood. Smart Bible scholar guys figured out that by the time John wrote his Gospel the practice of Holy Communion (or the shared meal which eventually morphed into the sacrament as we know it today) was probably something just about every Christian did or knew about. John doesn’t even bother adding the sacrament to his narrative of Jesus’ last Passover supper—he might’ve figured it was so ubiquitous he didn’t need to write about it. Either that, or verse 56 was added to his Gospel by a later editor who was really into Communion and felt it should be in the Gospel somewhere. Who knows?
It doesn’t really matter, though. The teaching about meeting Jesus in a shared meal doesn’t seem that hard to me. I like saying mass and participating in the sacrament. I also like the explanation a cool Bible scholar named Bruce Chilton[i] suggested that the sacrifice of a shared meal—the intimate coming together of family and friends—was more acceptable in God’s eyes than the ritual spilling of blood in the temple of Jerusalem. Anyone can offer food and drink, but not anyone was deemed holy enough to offer a temple sacrifice. Jesus’ ritual was inclusive and loving. Also, he promised us he’d be with us when we share the bread and wine. I’m perfectly okay with saying that when we come together in peace, each of us acknowledging our hunger for forgiveness, we just have to experience a sense of mutual forbearance and compassion. And that’s when Jesus shows up.
So what’s so hard about this Gospel lesson? I mean, besides the fact that some folks thought Christians were practicing cannibalism? The hard part might come in verse 65 where Jesus says, “…no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.” That makes us ask, so what if it’s not granted by the Father? Does God actually choose to exclude people from grace? Some Christians—even some Reformation era Christians—thought so. You might’ve heard of the doctrine of Predestination. This is, roughly speaking, a tenant some held in which God decided in advance which of us would find our souls in Heaven and which of us would fry eternally in damnation. In this doctrine, God’s mind is made up. You’re either in or out, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Martin Luther agreed with this doctrine to a certain extent. He’d tell you that God has already decided that you are beloved, worthy, a great candidate for forgiveness and blessing, and someone God would like to spend all eternity with. God’s mind is pretty much made up on that point. Luther would also agree that it is only the will of the Father which allows you to come to grace. In fact, Luther says in his explanation to the Third Article of the Apostles Creed:
“I believe that by my own understanding or strength I cannot believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him, but the Holy Spirit has called me through the Gospel…”
This is to say that none of us would’ve been able to get our stupid, selfish minds off of our own stuff long enough to even try to imagine the nature of God if God hadn’t revealed God’s self through Jesus Christ. We only come to know God because God wants us to know God.
Unfortunately, there are always going to be those who are too wrapped up in themselves to care about God, other people, or the planet we live on. They are going to go on being jerks and causing the rest of us lots of pain because they have chosen to do so. God’s part in this is simple: We can only be free to love and serve God if we’re free to ignore or deny God. This freedom makes our love real, but it also causes us all a whole lot of hurt.
In our Gospel lesson from John 6 we’re told that Jesus already knew who would choose not to believe and who would choose to betray (v.64). But foreknowledge does not mean causality. A good teacher can always tell which students will pass and which will fail. This doesn’t mean she causes the success or lack of success of her pupils. I know the sun will rise tomorrow morning—but that doesn’t mean I’ll cause it to come up.
God’s will is for all of us to know peace, forgiveness, and joy. Since we know we already have God’s love, we might as well respond to it by heeding Jesus’ words of eternal life. This might not be easy. Compassion, forgiveness, love of the stranger, generosity, hope—these things are hard. But the hard stuff is always the most worthwhile.
God’s peace to you, my friend.
[i]
See Chilton, Bruce: Rabbi Jesus: An
Intimate Biography. (New York: Doubleday, 2000) It’s really good.
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