When I was a budding adolescent growing up in the 90s, a man by the name of Matt Groening introduced the world to the first American adult cartoon family - The Simpsons. And as an immature adolescent at the time, of course my favorite character was the infamous Bart Simpson.
Bart has a famous catchphrase that was quite controversial thirty years ago. Can any of you tell me what that catchphrase is? Eat my shorts! Bart uses it to express his rebellious attitude, usually towards authority figures. On some occasions, the phrase was taken literally, such as when Bart was teasing a donkey and the donkey really did eat his shorts (season 15, episode 21, Bart-Mangled Banner).
In our Gospel lesson this morning, we find Jesus sharing with the Jews one of his most controversial catchphrases, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” Now I can only imagine the flocks of followers who deserted him because of this statement. Eat his flesh? Drink his blood? Why this rabbi has lost his mind! This is cannibalism! So, the question remains, is Jesus literally telling us today to eat his flesh?
It helps to recall the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand in this same chapter of John, chapter six. The time of the Passover Feast was approaching. With this feast on everyone’s mind, Jesus referring to himself as the bread that comes down from heaven makes more sense. Jesus is reinterpreting the story of the Passover and the Exodus through his own life and ministry.
Jesus has given his followers physical food but uses that to teach about his desire to give them spiritual food as well. He said, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life.” He wants those who are listening to him to not just eat some bread and fish and then go home to hunger again.
Jesus wants us to develop a spiritual hunger and thirst that he and only he can satisfy. And to illustrate this, Jesus uses the Passover story, which is a story about moving from slavery to freedom. And he uses this story to show how faith in him also moves us, his followers, from scarcity into abundance, from death into eternal life, from self-assurance into total reliance upon him.
He then goes on to develop the theme of ABIDE, which will culminate in chapter fifteen with the illustration of the vine and the branches. Jesus says here, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” The Greek word for ABIDE is men’ - o, the same word used with the vine and the branches, which translates into remain, abide, continue, endure, last, live, stand, stay, wait.
Jesus is telling us to continue to be present in him. Jesus is telling us to be held or to be kept continually in him. Jesus is telling us to continue to be, not to perish, to last, to endure in him. God is telling us to survive and to live in Jesus. Jesus is saying to us, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”
So back to this question is Jesus literally telling us today to eat his flesh? To drink his blood?
Episcopalians believe that Christ becomes really present in the consecrated bread and wine at Eucharist, a belief which we share with Roman Catholic, Orthodox, and some Lutheran churches. However, most Episcopalians do not attempt to explain how this happens, preferring to regard it as a holy mystery. (Episcopal Church Memes)
I love the language here of holy mystery. I can’t explain it, but I know it is true. Another way to think about this question is through the lens of sacrament. Historically, the word sacrament developed from the Greek word mysterion meaning something hidden or secret. In fact, it was St. Augustine our patron saint who first talked about the sacraments as being an outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible grace.
Christians have been practicing the sacraments of the church for two thousand years. When thinking about Holy Eucharist, it is Christ’s table, not my table, not my denominations table, it’s not your table, it’s Christ’s table. Anyone who is hungry is welcome to that table. Jesus makes the invitation list, not us. The table has been and always will be one of the most powerful and counter cultural truths of Christianity.
I, myself, have been on a long journey to understanding the holy mystery of unending food and drink in Christ.
My first experiences with communion came in the evangelical world where we would eat the oyster cracker and drink the little cup of grape juice once a month. As my faith grew, so did my desire to take communion on a regular basis. When a buddy of mine introduced me to the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) in seminary, I began to see communion, not just as something we participate in weekly, but the very center of the church itself.
In the back of the BCP you will find an outline of the Christian faith known as the Catechism. There you will find questions and answers about everything ranging from the Ten Commandments, the New Covenant, and the Creeds, to the Holy Scriptures, Worship and Sacraments. Under the section entitled Holy Eucharist you will find the following question and answer:
Q. What are the benefits which we receive in the Lord’s supper?
A. The benefits we receive are the forgiveness of our sins, the strengthening of our union with Christ and one another, and the foretaste of the heavenly banquet which is our nourishment in eternal life.
This is something that happens in the liturgy as we enter the story. We don’t just listen to the words, “Take, eat,” but we actually get up, move forward, drop to our knees in vulnerability. We come to the altar to actually take and eat the bread that has been broken and given. We enter the story of the Passover, of the Last Supper, and then we are called to make the whole story a part of our story.
Many moons ago while I was finishing up my internship in seminary, I co-created and facilitated a healing ministry for young adults who had been either physically, emotionally, or sexually abused as children. The ministry was called the River and used the Gospel, theatre, and the arts to minister to the broken areas of the participant’s lives.
On the last night of the program, we set up an upper room in the attic of an old church where we were gathering. In that small room we set up a candle-lit dinner complete with Mediterranean cuisine and lounging cushions for the floor, trying our artsy best to reenact the Lord’s supper.
During dinner we had the participants share a picture they drew of the way they saw their damaged souls upon entering the program so many weeks ago. As participants shared their pictures, they were able to see how far they had come in their own process of inner healing. We laughed and cried, encouraged one another, and marveled at the beauty of Jesus, and at the end of the night, together, we closed our time by sharing in Holy Eucharist.
That evening, nearly fifteen years ago, a switch went off in my mind and heart, marking the beginning of my journey into the Episcopal Church and the understanding of Holy Eucharist as the center of all things spiritual. And also, as seeing dinner as the context in which we participate in Eucharist. I guess you could say that it was a seed planted for the vision of Grovetown Mission’s dinner church, where today we share in a meal as we share together at the table of Christ.
This is a picture of what Jesus is talking about with us this morning when he says, I am the Bread of Life. We today are a gathering of broken people whose lives have been touched by God, a people moving from darkness to light, from slavery to freedom, from death into eternal life.
We are together immersed in the transformative community centered around the partaking of simple earthly elements: bread and wine made flesh and blood.
Holy Eucharist is the sacrament God chose to gather us all together, week after week, month after month, year after year, to wear away our sharp corners and rough edges. And the bread and wine made flesh and blood are the holy elements that feed our deep desire and yearning to be made whole. This a remembrance that we our New Creatures in Christ, and that our entire lives (the good, the bad, and the ugly) have been scooped up by the unconditional love of God in Jesus.
In the eating of our Savior’s flesh, and in the drinking of his blood, we are raised into new and unending life through him, so that today we can abide, dwell, and live in Him. So as the old African spiritual puts it, Let us break bread together on our knees, let us drink wine together on our knees… when I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun, O Lord have mercy on me. Amen.
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