"To Be Nourished"	August 16, 2009
John 6: 51-58	20th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Colesville Presbyterian Church	Pastoral Associate Aaron D. Frank

 

The text we’ve heard this morning might seem out of place for a middle of the month Sunday; a Sunday when we do not celebrate Communion.  Because of our relationship with the cross, because of our understanding of Christ and his mercy, we are inclined to think of this text as having to apply to Communion, even though it's in the middle of the Gospel and we know that John's Gospel doesn’t have a "Last Supper," but instead, a farewell foot washing.  If not through the lens of Communion, how else then, can we understand today's text? 

 

Moreover, what must those first century Jewish, proto-Christians have thought?  Those early believers must have been at first confused and then disgusted.  But, upon reflection, they were challenged, as I hope you will be in a few minutes.

 

What is being related here?  Is the evangelist recounting a story verbatim, from personal memory?  Can you imagine him as he recalls Jesus standing before a crowd, having an ever escalating debate?  Or, is John retelling a story he heard from one who was there, and heard Jesus say these things?  Or, has John, writing decades later, amended the story, extrapolating theologically Jesus' words from earlier in the chapter when he talked about 'living bread,' and attempting to both unpack Jesus' meaning and to foreshadow a possible manner of faith for those living after the crucifixion and resurrection? These are questions that scholars have wrestled with since Augustine in the 4th century.  In any case, the text John the Evangelist has left us is complex and applicable to us in our daily lives, not simply on Communion Sunday.

 

So, is it possible that this text can be read not simply as sacramental, or Eucharistic, but as instructional for our faith and our personal relationship with Christ?

 

Beginning in verse 35, Jesus describes the bread of life.  He says, the manna that fed Moses and the Israelites came from God, not from Moses.  So too then will living bread come from heaven and be given to the whole world.  The people ask that he give them the bread of life.  He says, I am the bread of life.  Come to me and you will never be hungry, believe in me and you'll never be thirsty.  For those proto-Christians living in the first century these metaphors would have been fairly acceptable and understandable acts of faith. 

 

But, then Jesus is pressed by the Jewish leaders.  What do you mean, you've come from heaven, we knew you at Temple, how can you bring this bread of life?  Jesus is agitated by their doubt.  He raises the stakes to make his point.  He says to the people, "I am the bread of life, from heaven; eat this bread for eternal life; my flesh is this bread." 

 

"Uh, Jesus, did you just say that we have to eat you to have eternal life?  Cannibalism is not something I think I can go for.  Look at the time, I need to get back to Temple."  Or, for those reading John's story in their small house church, not possessing the millennia of theological debate, you can hear that same confusion and worry.  "Cannibalism?  I think I'll stick with the chicken. "

 

Consider the context of this story in the other Gospels' and you can see you this radical story became a symbol that we celebrate on the first Sunday of each month in Holy Communion.  In each of the other Gospels, Jesus' discussion of the Bread of life takes place during the Last Supper.  John though, by placing this story in the middle of his text, invites his readers to consider the depth of personal connection that Jesus is offering and encouraging believers to have.  It is not simply about Jesus' sacrifice, but about what our relationship with Jesus, with God, is.  In the text  Jesus says, "my flesh is the bread."  In verse 54 he is graphic in his insistence.  Our NRSV bibles translate the verse as, "unless you eat the flesh and drink the blood."  This is technically correct, but interestingly, the Greek word 'to eat' has changed between verse 53 and 54, from 'esthio' to 'trogo.'  The difference is significant.  I may 'esthio' an apple.  But, my dog Gwyn will 'trogo' her rawhide.  Thus, verse 54, Jesus' word "eat," in the Greek is more accurately translated as gnaw or chew. So 54 would read, "those who gnaw on my flesh and drink my blood, have eternal life."  Now you understand why those first century folks would have been disgusted in the moment they heard or read this statement.

 

What is Jesus' (or John's) point in changing verbs there?  Why would it matter that we gnaw on this flesh as opposed to casually eating it?  Consider the fact that the same community that gave us this Gospel also gave us the book of Revelation.  Rev. 3:16 says, "Because you were neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm, I spit you out."  John, writing these inspired texts, wants his readers to be filled, nourished by their relationship with God.  Jesus even tells us this in our reading.  In verse 56, he says, "in eating this flesh, I will abide in you and they in me."  Nourish.  Abide.  When we are spiritually fed, when we are nourished, God abides in us and we abide in God. What does it mean to abide?  It means to remain, to dwell, to stay, to rest with comfort and ease.

 

If this text means something more than can be contained in our monthly celebration of Communion, what is it?  How does this nourishing and abiding happen?  For me, I was deeply nourished while on study leave at Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu, New Mexico.  It is a place of incredible beauty, where the hand of God's continual creation is evident everywhere you look.  From smokestack rock formations and brightly colored mesas, to alpine forests above the scrub oak desert floor, to the remarkable mountain orchids, the size of about half of my pinky nail, we saw while on a hike. 

 

For the week I was there, I woke each morning and worshiped with old friends and new; we worshiped with language I had literally been looking for, for years.  In our worship and our prayers, I heard and learned liturgical language that was reverent of the creation and all that we claim about God's holy making of the earth, without the usual weird, witchy, new age terminology that make me and many people uncomfortable.  I and my classmates spent hours in reflection and discussion of the Psalms while walking in the high desert mountains and forests.  I was reminded of my time as a chaplain in Wyoming and of my love of natural theology that honors our creation and our responsibilities of stewardship.  It was an experience that has affected the very way in which I want to look at theology and worship.

 

When I got back I had numerous people ask me about my time away.  Among the many stories I told, the one thing I've repeatedly said is that I hope to hold on to some of my experience and use it to grow my faith and my ministry.  I hope that while my location has changed, that by creating and deepening certain routines, that I can still be nourished in that way, and that I can continue to abide in God as I did in that time and place.

 

But, God's presence isn't just out in the desert of New Mexico.  Where do you find your nourishment?  You might say, by coming to church.  But what about the rest of the week?  Daily?  How is that flesh served?  Is it in a daily devotional, or an evening walk?  Is it in volunteering in our community?  Do you dwell on a certain bible verse as you knit, or garden or jog?  Perhaps it is in certain music that plays on the radio or just in your mind.  We might say that as "Washingtonians" we don't have time, our cell phone rings, our Blackberry buzzes, and so on.  But eating once a month, or even once a week isn't enough.  Jesus calls on us to eat his flesh, to gnaw on it, so that we may be deeply nourished and in that nourishing we may abide in him, dwell in him, and he in us.  What deep abiding nourishment are you cultivating in your life?  What nourishment can you cultivate in your life?

 

Amen.