Ephesians 6:10-20; John 6:56-69
Ordinary 21B; Proper 16
Jesus asks his followers two pointed questions: Does this offend you? And: Do you also wish to go away?
He speaks plainly: I am the bread of life. Eat and live. I am the bread come down from heaven and this bread is my flesh. Believe, eat and receive the gift of eternal life. The Jews dispute Jesus’ claim and the disciples grumble about it.
Jesus knows their hearts and doubts and then he says it plain: Does this offend you? Do you also wish to leave? Now is the time to turn around and head back to your former life. Many already decided that this Jesus way was not going to be their way, but what about the twelve?
I am confused about the disciples’ grumbling. I do not understand, exactly, what is so difficult about this teaching. Isn’t eternal life good news? Isn’t bread from heaven a blessing? Isn’t the promise of never hungering nor thirsting again a teaching we want to embrace?
What’s so difficult and hard to accept? Is Jesus too good to be true? Is that what’s difficult and nearly impossible to accept? Or does the challenge come from a place not of wonder at the gift but suspicion of the giver? Does it harken back to the beginning of John’s Gospel when Nathanael asks, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” The debate about Jesus, his identity, the source of his power and his authority remains a constant theme in John’s Gospel and this scene forces Jesus’ followers to take a stand. Will they believe and continue to follow or are they going to turn back with so many others?
Does Jesus and his claim to be the bread of life come down from heaven offend you? Do you shake your head in disbelief? Are you stunned by the audacity of this carpenter from Nazareth? Is it possible for you to imagine that this poor man from an ordinary family and a backwater town could really be the One come down from heaven sent to save the world? Don’t you expect God to work through grander more auspicious means? Feeding a bunch of needy people on a hillside is nice, but wouldn’t a revolution be a more effective way of showing the world who is in charge?
That’s what I want. I want Jesus to storm the palace and give those who have for too long exploited the vulnerable and lined their own pockets and abused their positions to get what is coming to them. Instead we get bread. I don’t want the distribution of life-giving bread, I want some retribution. I know I am not supposed to want that, but sometimes, I confess, I do. I may say restorative justice is the goal, forgiveness, grace and mercy, yes, of course. But when I hear of priests raping children and teenagers killed by a suicide bomber and migrant workers rendered indentured servants, it is hard for me to accept that Jesus offers bread all around, that nothing will be left behind that can be gathered together, that Jesus has come not to condemn the world but to save it. This teaching is difficult for me. I find it hard to accept. I am offended, frankly.
There are days, far too many days, when I would rather follow a different teaching than that of Jesus Christ. I do not want to pray for my enemies. I do not want to sit at the same table with betrayers. I do not want to go to the cross. I do not want to seek reconciliation. I do not want to extend forgiveness. All of this is too difficult. Grace is offensive. Revenge far more satisfying. I want to see some people eating crow and lots of it.
But Jesus says: I am the bread of life, come down from heaven, for the sake of the world. Not everyone will believe, many will be offended, but for those who eat and drink, they will live, differently, fully, abundantly and for the sake of the world, too.
Do you also wish to turn away?
Sometimes I do because grace is hard to stomach when it is extended to those I want to get what I think is coming to them. Not only that, but eating this bread from heaven requires that I am what I eat, that I abide in Jesus, that I put on the whole armor of God and take on the cosmic powers of this present darkness, that I offer heavenly bread indiscriminately and eat with anyone and everyone.
Recently, in the free paper that lists upcoming events and features articles on local happenings in my city, the question posed on the next to last page was this: “How does your faith get you through difficult times?” The answers ranged from “I have no religious faith whatsoever, and never have. This helps me get through difficult times because I don’t expect the celestial cavalry to suddenly come and rescue me. Instead, I depend on my own wits and experience” to “Whenever I need to find a being greater than myself, more valuable to the world than myself, all I need so is look to the trees.” And then this: “Christ Jesus has been the great answer to everything in my life in the last 30 years. He is totally real, and he’s 100 percent love. It’s easy — just invite him in. No risk and no downside, I promise!”
While I do not agree with the first two responses, it is the third, the one about Jesus that troubles me the most. “It’s easy.” And, “No risk and no downside.” Really? Somehow this follower missed the offensive, scandalous, take-up-your-cross, lose-your-life part of following Christ Jesus. Jesus sounds like the latest gadget being proffered on late night television infomercials, not the Messiah who came to serve and pour himself out to the point of death on a cross. One might as well look to the trees or rely on one’s wits if the One we follow requires nothing of us but our invitation. So much for God doing the calling, teaching and choosing.
When we forget the offense and difficultly of Jesus’ teachings, we fail to recognize that there is nowhere else to go for eternal life. We reduce the bread from heaven to some sort of magic beans that grant our wishes. We turn the bread of life into comfort food that confirms the status quo when Jesus gives his body that we might be salt and light and leaven in the world.
Abiding with the One who came from Nazareth inevitably puts us in the company of those we do not choose. Eating the bread of life incorporates us into the Body of Christ and calls us to be dependent upon and concerned for every member of it. Hearing the word of the Spirit means going where it wills. Believing that Jesus is the Messiah requires that we follow his teachings, difficult and offensive as they are. Does this offend you? Perhaps it should.
This week:
- Do you find Jesus’ teachings difficult? Are you ever offended by Jesus?
- Have you ever turned away from Jesus or been tempted to do so? To whom did you go? What caused you to turn back?
- The letter to the Ephesians says that we are up against the “cosmic forces of this preset darkness” and “the spiritual forces of evil.” Do you ever think about a life of faith in this way?
- Read the verses from Ephesians and make a list of what the “whole armor of God” entails. Can you think about being equipped with these things throughout your daily living? What difference does it make to be aware of wearing the “whole armor of God”?
- Jesus knows his disciples are complaining about his teachings. What are we complaining about in the church? In our lives? How might Jesus respond to our grumbling?
- How would you answer this question: How does faith get you through difficult times?
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