This morning’s Gospel [John 6:56-69] gives
us one of the strangest and saddest incidents in the New Testament. At the
close of Jesus’s “bread of life” discourse—a talk that takes up the whole of
the sixth chapter of John’s Gospel and which we’ve been hearing together in
church for several weeks now—we hear that “when many of his disciples heard it,
they said, ‘This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?’” [John 6: 60] A
little bit later, John tells us, “Because of this many of his disciples turned
back and no longer went about with him.” [John 6: 66] What on earth did Jesus
say that his followers couldn’t accept? Why did so many of them turn away and stop
following him?
As a preacher, I know something about saying things that
people cannot accept. One Monday morning several years ago--the day after
giving what I thought a rather mild sermon on a social issue in a suburban
parish where I was rector--I heard a voicemail message from a drunken parishioner
who asked, “Who do you think you are to come in here and tell us what you think?” And just this summer, after
I had called for our Lee-Jackson windows to be removed, I read an online story
about my statement entitled, “Another Fatwa from the Imam”. (Wrong on both
counts.) The National Rifle Association is not likely to name me their person
of the year, and I carry the distinction of having been called out by both
Franklin Graham and Antonin Scalia. So I know about teachings that people won’t
accept. Whenever a preacher ascends the steps of a pulpit and tries to do
public theology, someone who disagrees is bound to be offended.
But something else is going on here. Jesus has not been
talking about public, social issues. He has been talking about himself as the
“bread of life”:
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. [John 6:
56-57]
Because you and I are
accustomed to talking about Jesus as the Word made flesh, these “bread of life”
words do not sound like “another fatwa from the imam”. But something in them sounded dangerous
enough to offend his followers to the point that they would stop going around
with him. What on earth could that be?
I think there are a couple of things going on here. For one, Jesus seems to be talking about
himself in rather exalted language. Imagine yourself to be one of those
disaffected followers. You came to Jesus
because something about his life and ministry attracted you. He was a prophetic teacher, a healer. But
then he started talking about himself as the “Son of Man” and the “Holy One of
God”. John’s Gospel begins with the claim that the Word became flesh and dwelt
among us. The Jesus movement is not just
a personal healing movement. It’s not
just about my personal wellness. The Jesus movement is one with social and
cosmic implications. What Jesus is up to
tells us something about the beating heart of the universe. The kind of love and justice and compassion
we see both in and around Jesus show us the final truths about God and us. Signing on to follow Jesus means committing
oneself to heal and bless and change not only myself but the world.
So if you were someone who started following Jesus simply
because you were attracted to what he could do for you, the idea that his
movement might be about more than making you feel better might shock and offend
you. And that leads to the second thing
going on here: all this talk of flesh
and blood must mean something to Jesus’s original hearers that it doesn’t quite
mean to us. For us to eat Jesus’s flesh
and drink Jesus’s blood is not only about taking communion. For us to partake in the bread of life is not
just about sharing the benefits of his company.
For us to drink his blood must have something to do with what Dietrich
Bonhoeffer called “the cost of discipleship”.
There have been two times this year when I have been
brought close to tears by something I saw on the news. The first, last June, was when the families
of the nine women and men killed at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston went to
court and told the shooter they forgave him.
The second, last week, was when former President Jimmy Carter rather
matter-of-factly discussed his cancer and its treatment. “I’m
perfectly at ease with whatever comes,” Mr. Carter said. “I do have a deep
religious faith, which I’m very grateful for.”
I suppose the common thread in these
two stories lies in how powerful it is to see people who not only actually
believe what they profess to believe, but who actually act out in their lives
the words they profess in their faith.
The families in Charleston and President Carter have many things in
common, I’m sure, but for me the chief among them is this: they understand that following Jesus has
implications. Following Jesus means that
you extend to others the forgiveness you ask for yourself. Following Jesus means that you stake your
life on the bet that the promises of God and Jesus are real. There’s no magic to living a transformative
life dedicated to the healing and liberation of the world. All you have to do
is act on what you say you believe. Easier, of course, to say than to do, but
revolutionary when somebody actually tries it.
I have been ordained now for almost
40 years, and over the course of my working life I’ve been saddened to observe
that some people will only go so far before they fall off and go away. It’s one
of the mysteries of church life, really. Those of us who work in the church
today have become obsessed with the statistics and demographics of declining
church membership and attendance. We are
doing a lot of soul-searching about why people have stopped coming. We are thinking and brainstorming about how
we might better attract younger people to our services. I am sure that there
are many things we could do better to make ourselves more relevant to modern
life. But there are times when I wonder
if the countercultural claims of the Gospel are simply too much for most
people. Putting gyms and coffee bars in
the parish hall will no doubt attract some customers, but let’s be honest about
it: following Jesus will always be a minority enterprise. Jesus promises
eternal life. He also asks that we deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow
him. “This
teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” “Because of this many of his
disciples turned back and no longer went about with him.”
In today’s Gospel, after the others have departed, Jesus
poses this question to the twelve who remain: “Do you also wish to go
away?”—not, under the circumstances, a surprising question. And then Peter
answers him: “Lord, to whom can we go?
You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you
are the Holy One of God.” [John 6: 67-69]
Following Jesus entails some risk. It means signing on to
some values that push deeply against the culture. It involves a willingness to
stand with people who can do nothing for you.
It asks that you find your fulfillment not on your own but in mutuality and
communion with others. There is, in fact, a cost of discipleship. In a self-serving culture, many around you
will be confused and offended by what you stand for. They won’t get a life
centered around love and justice and not around self-aggrandizement.
But that life has so much more to it than risk. As Peter
says, “You have the words of eternal life.”
Life lived in solidarity with the poor, the sick, the oppressed is
neither unrelievedly grim nor entirely self-denying. There is suffering and
pain, to be sure, but there is also joy and freedom in standing with those whom
in the Beatitudes Jesus calls “blessed”.
The folks who gave up following Jesus did so because they thought they
didn’t need him. The ones who stayed
knew themselves to have more in common with the strugglers and sufferers than
they did with those who appeared to have made it. They knew their need of God. They could say, with President Carter, “I’m perfectly at ease with whatever
comes.”
Jesus is the bread of
life. Some people think they don’t need
him. Others know they can’t live without him. Our need for God and Jesus is for
some a hard teaching and difficult to accept. But for others it’s the words of
eternal life. I will go to my grave mystified that some people don’t seem to need
Jesus while others can’t seem to live without him. But I know which group I
belong to, and invite you now to join me in the grateful banquet of life and
hope and justice that gathers at his table. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment