John
6:56-69
Did
you notice we’ve had about 6 weeks in a row of Gospel readings about bread? Maybe
not if you’ve been on vacation a bit this summer, but thematically you haven’t
missed much in John’s gospel. This long passage is called the Bread of Life
discourse.
It
starts out with feeding of 5,000. Now there’s a story about bread. And the people
loved it, after Jesus fed them they followed him around, huge crowds were trailing
after him, hoping in no small part for more free food, because they were hungry
and poor.
Today
he tells them, you’re not quite getting it. It’s not just about free food, and
not even just about feeding the hungry. It’s about me, Jesus, I’m the bread of
life, you have to eat and drink me.
I’m going to give my flesh, my life, for you. This sounded at least as weird, probably more so, to 1st Century residents of Palestine as it does to us.
In the Eucharist we enact what we hope for the world – that all are gathered in community, praising, rejoicing, being fed, sharing. Here, for a brief time, God’s kingdom is come. We do this because we believe that even in this small way making that be true, God’s kingdom come on earth, it makes a difference. In the end, the Eucharist is about mission. About our willingness to follow Jesus in self-sacrifice and being empowered by his spirit within us, as we take this bread and wine -- his body and blood-- within us, giving us the power to continue his mission in the world. We are his body now, his body given to the world.
Jesus
saying they are not quite getting two things: about eating and drinking and
living Jesus, and about death and sacrifice. Do we get these things? Are they
what we think of when we share the bread of life each Sunday?
The
Eucharist clearly has many, many meanings we can put on it. We can interpret it
in a multitude of ways. Sometimes interpretations are put on something after
the fact. For example, I remember being told as young acolyte that the white
cardboard card that covers the chalice was called pall because it covered the
body of Christ the way a pall is draped over a casket. Really, its whole reason
for existence is to keep the flies out of the wine. We can make up meanings that
are meaningful to us, and they are not necessarily wrong.
But
with the Eucharist, it’s worth thinking about, what did this originally mean to
those who started it? Why did Peter and James and John and all the reset keep
doing it, keep reenacting the Last Supper they had experienced? Why was the
whole bread and wine thing so important to those who were eyewitnesses to Jesus
crucifixion and resurrection, because they after all, are the ones who started
it and handed it down to us?
It
meant, I think, two central things to them, these two things that Jesus is
saying the people looking for free food are not quite getting.
The
first is sacrifice. Jesus said, eat my flesh and drink my blood. Gross, right?
But Jesus, who in addition to being called the Bread of Life in John’s Gospel
is also called the Lamb of God, knew that his hearers would remember the temple
practice of animal sacrifice, meat sacrificed to God to be a gesture of
reconciliation and forgiveness. And that they also might think of the blood of
the Passover lamb that was put on the doorposts in the Exodus story. Christ our
Passover, sacrificed for us, we say. Jesus’ sacrifice, Jesus’ willingness to
take the place of the lamb, to give himself to bring us finally and completely
into right relationship with God, was in some ways the sacrifice to end all
sacrifices.
The
second is the idea of being close to Jesus. An intimate relationship with Jesus
was key to early church’s understanding of Eucharist. In eating and drinking
bread and wine, early church members felt drawn closer to Jesus and to his
mission, empowered by his spirit within them to continue his work. “Those who
eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them,” Jesus said.
“whoever eats me will live because of me.”
Our
practices of worship come out of these underlying understandings of the meaning
of the Eucharist. It includes self-offering, and it includes being drawn close
to the heart of Jesus so we can be empowered for God’s mission in the world.
Did you know even in those early days, in the first decades of the church, they
passed the collection plate like we do today? It’s a bit hard to believe, but if you go back and read Acts
and Paul’s letters, they are constantly talking about taking up collections to
help out the poorer members of the church in this or that city or to feed the
widows and orphans. It was part of Christian worship from the beginning,
because of need to include some kind of self-offering, self-sacrifice,
self-commitment, in Eucharistic worship. If we come to be fed only, to take
only, we aren’t getting it. Some portion of giving, whether that’s just a
commitment to doing something for someone else, or a giving of what you have,
also needs to be present for it to be Eucharistic worship. We continue in the
self-offering of Jesus.
And
we also re-enact and remember the intimacy and friendship of that early group
of disciples, the close relationship they had with Jesus. One thing about the
early Eucharist was that it was hugely important that they did it together. They
totally could have chosen to have the commemoration of Last Supper be some
private experience, done in secret. The early church did exactly the opposite. They
knew Jesus is really present when we gather together and invite others to join
us. It was always a public party, the
more the merrier, something that outsiders noticed and wondered about. Who are
those people feasting and eating and drinking? What are they celebrating? Why
are they so happy? This is how the church grew—by hosting great parties. Always
everybody welcome at the table. The bread of life was freely given to all.
And
you know, both of these things, self-sacrifice and being close to Jesus, really
feed into the other – we can’t sacrifice ourselves unless we are fed by Jesus,
being close to Jesus and resting in his love and nourishment for us means we
have the energy and ability and power to follow him in self-sacrifice. It’s a
cycle, right?
No comments:
Post a Comment