Arming yourself God's word is not easy though. Take John. This Gospel was shaped, and taken to heart, by the specific Christian community for which it was authored. Obviously John became part of Biblical canon because other Christian communities took it to heart as well.
The community who first read this both knew, and needed, a different Jesus than I necessarily know and need today to be inspired to make a better world. In John Chapter 6 Jesus speaks of a stark, life-changing decision to follow Jesus. Once made, the decision is consequential and hard to revoke. I hear this community's voice in the question “To whom can we go?” and the determination and grit in what Peter adds “You have the words of eternal life.”
I hear their voice in verse 63 as well when Jesus states "The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you—they are full of the Spirit and life.". The people who need to hear this have made a decision against the rich rewards of a life that flesh can apparently offer. Their decision to follow Jesus leads to hardship. For them, Jesus embodies the words he teaches. In verse 59 they are transformed from a crowd that is centered on being physically fed to being dedicated followers that find his teachings hard. And he ends up speaking to them from the synagogue in Capernaum.
There is a dichotomy locked in this last lectionary reading that comes from the book of John this year. Jesus emphasizes that eating his flesh and blood is essential. Then he asserts that flesh means nothing. This makes what Jesus says feel simultaneously worldly and otherworldly.
The language of flesh and blood and eating and drinking can also be read as more theopoetic then theologic. As Robert Frost wrote, "Christ came to make a break with logic". And Christ did make a break with logic. And I think the author of this Gospel is doing the same.
The struggle and dichotomy present in these verses also remind me of Peter Rollins' story No Conviction. If I want to walk in their shoes and imagine what these Christians may have felt about this Bread of Life discourse when it was written. The temptation they must have resisted to turn away from believing in Jesus was great. In his story Rollins imaginatively places us, as readers, in a similar, threatening situation of what it could mean to be a Christian.
No Conviction
In a world where following Christ is decreed to be a subversive and illegal activity, you have been accused of being a believer, arrested, and dragged before a court.
You have been under clandestine surveillance for some time now, and so the prosecution has been able to build up quite a case against you. They begin the trial by offering the judge dozens of photographs that show you attending church meetings, speaking at religious events, and participating in various prayer and worship services. After this they present a selection of items that have been confiscated from your home: religious books that you own, worship CDs, and other Christian artifacts. Then they step up the pace by displaying many of the poems, pieces of prose, and journal entries that you had lovingly written concerning your faith. Finally, in closing, the prosecution offers your Bible to the judge. This is a well-worn book with scribbles, notes, drawings, and underlinings throughout, evidence, if it were needed, that you had read and reread this sacred text many times.
Throughout the case you have been sitting silently in fear and trembling. You know deep in your heart that with the large body of evidence that has been amassed by the prosecution, you face the possibility of a long imprisonment or even execution. At various times throughout the proceedings, you have lost all confidence and have been on the verge of standing up and denying Christ. But while this thought has plagued your mind throughout the trial, you resist the temptation and remain focused.
Once the prosecution has finished presenting their case, the judge proceeds to ask if you have anything to add, but you remain silent and resolute, terrified that if you open your mouth, even for a moment, you might deny the charges made against you. Like Christ, you remain silent before your accusers. In response you are led outside to wait as the judge ponders your case.
The hours pass slowly as you sit under guard in the foyer waiting to be summoned back. Eventually a young man in uniform appears and leads you into the courtroom so that you may hear the verdict and receive word of your punishment. Once seated in the dock, the judge, a harsh and unyielding man, enters the room, stands before you, looks deep into your eyes, and begins to speak:
"Of the charges that have been brought forward I find the accused not guilty."
"Not guilty?" your heart freezes. Then, in a split second, the fear and terror that had moments before threatened to strip your resolve are swallowed up by confusion and rage.
Despite the surroundings, you stand defiantly before the judge and demand that he give an account concerning why you are innocent of the charges in light of the evidence.
"What evidence?" he replies in shock.
"What about the poems and prose that I wrote?" you reply.
"They simply show that you think of yourself as a poet, nothing more."
"But what about the services I spoke at, the times I wept in church and the long, sleepless nights of prayer?"
"Evidence that you are a good speaker and actor, nothing more," replied the judge. "It is obvious that you deluded those around you, and perhaps at times you even deluded yourself, but this foolishness is not enough to convict you in a court of law."
"But this is madness!" you shout. "It would seem that no evidence would convince you!"
"Not so," replies the judge, as if informing you of a great, long-forgotten secret.
"The court is indifferent toward your Bible reading and church attendance; it has no concern for worship with words and a pen. Continue to develop your theology and use it to paint pictures of love. We have no interest in such armchair artists who spend their time creating images of a better world. We exist only for those who would lay down that brush, and their life, in a Christ-like endeavor to create it. So, until you live as Christ and his followers, until you challenge this system and become a thorn in our side, until you die to yourself and offer yo ur body to the flames, until then my friend, you are no enemy of ours."
Rollins' story highlights a portion of what Jesus means with his invitation to eat his flesh and drink his blood. To build a better world as we are nourished by God to live as the body of Christ in the world today. This was at the heart of Pastor Janell's sermon last week.
However this is not the life circumstance we now face as Christians daily. Christianity today can invite us to be less self centered by providing new insights. We can be invited to feel less fearful of life on the new edges we encounter. We are all on edge and these edges are scary and we can feel powerless.
Certainly the pandemic is the most obvious edge we confront daily at this moment. Racial and income inequality are other edges. I read a report yesterday that rain has fallen on the summit of Greenland’s huge ice cap for the first time on record. Temperatures are normally well below freezing on the 3,216-metre (10,551ft) peak, and the precipitation is a stark sign of the climate crisis.
At these edges, there is danger and fear. We can see our death or, at least, the end of things as we've always known them. And Jesus can guide us, transform us just like Christianity has done throughout it's history to face these edges and discovering what truly living well entails. So what does eating Jesus flesh and drinking his blood look like to follow Jesus with conviction today and believe in this transformation we can offer?
As Paul says in Romans 12:2, continuing to grow in faith, understanding and love is part of the discipleship path: "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind."
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