John 6.51-58
“I am the living bread come down from heaven.” I am living bread. I am. Jesus saying, “I am” as he speaks of himself as living bread shares a common pattern Jesus uses in other places in the Gospel of John as he speaks his identity: I am the Light of the World; I am the Good Shepherd; I am the Resurrection; I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; I am the Vine. But this, “I am,” is more than simple, agrarian images ranging from shepherds to vineyards, or describing a route to take as a path in the world. By saying, “I am,” Jesus speaks of his identity as God. When Moses asked for God’s name, God’s revealed himself with a resounding, “I Am who I Am.” The very name God gave to Moses to say who he is, is the same name Jesus gives to us to tell us who he is: I Am. “I am the living bread come down from heaven.” Here, the very Son of God is given to us. “Whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread I give for the life of the world is my flesh.”
Now at one level, when Jesus talks about the bread he gives for the life of the world being his flesh, he is pointing to his death on the cross, the sacrifice of his life. “God so loved the world that he gave the only Son.” This Son, the Gospel of John tells us, is the very Word of God “made flesh.” In Jesus, God shares the fullness of human life. In Jesus, spiritual truth is connected with physical reality. Today our Lord takes the theme of bread from heaven—the bread he gives, heaven-sent bread given for our life—and focuses its meaning and truth on him in the flesh. Bread is not just a thing; bread is a person. “I am the living bread come down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever.” Then a couple verses later, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day.
This is graphic, carnal language: “my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.” It was unsettling for the people who first heard it. “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” asks the crowd in today’s gospel. And it wouldn’t surprise me if it raised a question or two for you. This is the sort of language that led the secular world to accuse the first Christians of being cannibals. And it doesn’t help that the ancient biblical word behind all of Jesus’ talk about ‘eating’ is the word commonly used to describe the way animals munch away at food making happy, satisfied sounds—quite literally to ‘gobble up’ and ‘feast on.’ Even Jesus’ disciples have a tough time with all this ‘flesh as food’ language. In the verses right after today’s passage they talk among themselves and say, “This teaching is difficult. Who can accept it?” As for Jesus, he never answers. Not directly. Instead, he takes his puzzling word and makes it more puzzling still. “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood you have no life in you.”
Christians have long understood Jesus’ talk of ‘flesh as food and blood as drink’ as pointing to the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist. Here, in bread and wine, Christ’s Body is given for us and Christ’s Blood shed for us in a real and present way; bread not just as a thing but a person—Jesus as food and drink, the bread of life and cup of salvation.
It begins at the Last Supper the night before Jesus’ death on the cross. In the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke we read, “Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is my body.’” Other places in the New Testament also describe this personal, bodily encounter with Jesus in bread and with Jesus as bread. In 1st Corinthians, St Paul echoes Jesus’ descriptive language. “When we eat this bread we share in the body of Christ. When we drink this cup, we share in the blood of Christ.” Jesus always strives to connect spiritual truth with physical reality. Our Lord knows that we need not only spiritual things but also physical things in order to know him and receive the life he gives. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” Here, in the Holy Eucharist, Jesus gives himself to you in a real way, a tangible way, spiritual and physical.
The catechism in the prayerbook—the summary of our Anglican/Episcopalian teaching and perspective on Christian faith in question and answer form—defines sacraments like Baptism and the Holy Eucharist by saying, “Sacraments are outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace, given by Christ as a sure and certain means by which we receive that grace, spiritual truth connected with physical reality. In Baptism, the outward and visible sign is water. In the Holy Eucharist, it is “bread and wine, given and received according to Christ’s command.”
Yet any talk about signs—outward signs of invisible grace—might seem to suggest the catechism is backing off from the fleshy, bodily language of Jesus and the New Testament. But I’m not so sure. Signs are visible realities of things that are invisible, as the catechism says. Yet the outward and inward belong together; the visible and invisible are one in the same way that humanity and divinity are united as one in Jesus. In a mysterious sort of way, the outward sign shares in the inward truth.
For example, a heart at the bottom of a note or as an emoji in a text is both a sign of love and somehow conveys love and makes it real. A yellow light when you’re driving means slow down (or speed up, depending on the kind of driver you are) but either way it makes things happen; the outward sign participates in the truth represented. Even so, signs don’t reveal everything. A wedding ring is an outward sign of love and fidelity. But it can’t show the full depth of the union it represents; that’s the inward reality. No matter how hard you study a ring as a physical object—scientifically, under a microscope—you can’t define marriage. The precious metal the ring is made from has some value, but not a lot, as anyone who has ever tried to pawn a ring after a broken relationship will tell you. The ring is not the same as the daily living of the vows, for better and worse. Yet the church’s marriage rite says rings are the among the things that make the marriage happen, the physical expressing the spiritual and sharing in it; through vows, the joining of hands, and the giving of rings, marriage happens. And for a bride to say that she is wearing her grandmother’s ring carries a value that can’t be measured. The outward sign of inward truth—so much is contained in so little.
This then brings us back to the fleshy, bodily language of Jesus. If the outward sign of the sacrament is bread and wine, the prayer book catechism then asks, “What is the inward and spiritual grace given in the Eucharist?” Answer: “The inward and spiritual grace in Holy Communion is the Body and Blood of Christ given to his people and received by faith.” Is the Body and Blood. There is no backing away from Jesus’ physical language. What we receive is not merely a reminder of Jesus or something that points to Jesus, a token of the Lord no longer with us. Jesus always strives to connect spiritual truth with physical reality for our sake. The Word of God is made flesh.
In the Holy Eucharist, the bread and wine are not merely something but someone: Christ who loves us and gives himself to us in a personal way; Christ present with us and for us. “Take, eat. This is my body given for you.” Then, the catechism asks, what does that mean for us, “What are the benefits of this sacrament?” The answer: “Forgiveness of sins, strengthening our union with Christ and one another, and a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.” When we eat this bread we share in the body of Christ. When we drink this cup, we share in the blood of Christ. So much is contained in so little, the gift of God for you in the sacrament of Christ’s Body and Blood.
“I am the living bread come down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread I give for the life of the world is my flesh.”
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