Flesh and Spirit

Ordinary Time XXI; August 27, 2006

John 6:56-69

Did you feel a contradiction, or at least a tension, in these words of Jesus? This felt that way to me: Jesus says, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them,” and a little later he adds, “It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless.” So what is it? Does the flesh make us abide in Christ, or is it useless? Let’s live in the tension a little, before trying to resolve it.

I notice that the preachers while I was away continued with the lectionary readings from John, so you have been hearing about Jesus the bread of life and about eating and drinking him for this entire month. Pretty disgusting imagery, isn’t it? I used to think that was why most of the disciples got offended and left him, because they didn’t care for this imagery of eating his flesh and drinking his blood. It reminds me of the story of the well-dressed lady who was approached on the street by a man who asked her, “Pardon me, madam, but have you been washed in the blood of the Lamb?” and she replied, “Mercy, I hope not!” Pretty disgusting imagery.

And all this talk about eating Jesus’ flesh and drinking his blood would probably turn off anyone who wasn’t already used to hearing us talk about him that way at the Communion Table. In large part, at least, this is what Jesus has in mind during all this talk that sounds rather cannibalistic: the bread we eat and the wine we drink at the Holy Table. You know the saying: “You are what you eat.” That alone ought to be enough to keep us from overdoing it with the junk food. Jesus is saying, no nonsense here, that those who make a regular practice of coming to him at his Holy Table are receiving him, receiving what they need, in order to be made more and more into him.

Remember the theme that this Gospel started out with: the Word was made flesh. Not, “the Word was made a list of propositions to memorize.” Not, “the Word was made a great idea.” Not, “the Word was made a political program.” The Word was made flesh. When God comes to people, it is not as a column of ethereal light, not as a vision at the edge of consciousness; God comes in sweat and blood and a handshake and dusty feet plodding the back roads of Judea, with a voice that says, “Come to me.” If you claim to have a faith, it had better be a faith with skin on it. It had better be a faith that lives in the flesh, that offers your hand to someone who needs a hand and your tears to someone who grieves and your smile to someone who rejoices.

God comes in the flesh, and it isn’t enough that we simply nod our heads and say, “What a nifty idea.” God commands that we receive that flesh, and let that flesh make us more and more into what he is. “You are what you eat.” “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.”

“But,” says Jesus just a few breaths later, “It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless.” The flesh of Jesus, all by itself, would indeed be useless. Your flesh and my flesh are certainly useless. Oh, my flesh may have been more useful thirty years ago, when I was young and full of eagerness, but nowadays my flesh is barely equal to wrestling my lawn into submission, much less up to the task of saving myself. Jesus makes that abundantly clear. He says that we would not even believe in him if the Father had not granted us that gift.

It is at that point – not when Jesus talks about eating his flesh – that most of the disciples pack it in; only the twelve Apostles remain. The others say, “Okay, that’s enough of that” and head off. Sure, the truth hurts, and it’s a lot easier to pack it in and pretend you didn’t hear something that bothered you than to listen to it and let it change your heart or mind.

Politicians know that; they know they can’t get elected telling us the truth. They have to tell us what we want to hear. The smart and dedicated ones manage to do what’s best anyway, managing to slip a little reality into the process instead of what the voters demand. The lectures I heard last week at Chautauqua were pretty scary; I’m convinced that our passion for bread and circuses is leading us down the primrose path of debt-inflicted destruction. The voters’ chorus is “Gimme, gimme, gimme” and “Let someone else pay for it.” Of course, that someone else is going to be our grandchildren. But what do we care?

Time to rein in the rant. Jesus is given to never telling people what we want to hear, but rather telling us the truth, and the truth is that we cannot save ourselves. Our flesh, unaided, is not going to be able to figure out how to rise from the dead. Our flesh, unaided, is not equal to making life abundant and full for us and for those around us. Our flesh, unaided, is not equal to a living, loving relationship with the God who made us.

What does our flesh need? Well, why did the Twelve stay? When everyone else got ticked off and left because Jesus said they needed the help of the Father to believe in him, why did the Twelve stay? Simon Peter says it: “You have the words of eternal life.” In Jesus Christ, we find a unique nexus of the Word made flesh and the words of eternal life. Simon Peter has been paying attention. Oh, he’s going to screw up, big time, you and I know that, but right here he gets it: You have the words of eternal life. You tell us things we need to hear. You talk about God in ways that open the heart of God to us. You show us how to love God, love ourselves and love others. You have the words of eternal life.

Where else have you been looking for the words of eternal life? I don’t mean what other churches have you attended; all of them are part of the Body of Christ so all of them participate in the words of eternal life. I want you to think about where else, other than Christ himself, you have looked for the words of eternal life. The brainiacs may have looked to philosophy, and there’s lots of good advice for getting along in life there, but no words of eternal life. There are, of course, the usual places to look: money, which may buy you some extra years, but not eternal life; power (control of other people), which offers a chance to linger in other people’s memories, but not eternal life; alcohol, drugs and other addictions, which offer temporary good feelings and perhaps escape from physical and emotional pain, but not eternal life. And lots of people look in religion for the sake of religion. Do you know what I mean? I’ll go to church, do good things, and participate as much as I feel like it, and I’ll tolerate all the Jesus talk. That’s a good start, frankly, but it’s only a start. Religion as religion will get you started in the right direction, but it isn’t eternal life. Simon Peter has it right: Christ has the words of eternal life.

And this is the resolution of our tension: that the flesh of Christ is useful because Christ has the words of eternal life. You don’t have to understand what it’s all about, but when Christ offers you the bread of life and the cup of salvation at his Holy Table, accept his invitation. You may get offended and sometimes the words may be troubling, but don’t go away like the others: hang in there and listen to Jesus’ words, for they are the words of eternal life. The flesh of Christ gives life because Christ has the words of eternal life.

Although I’m too cynical to believe it will ever happen, I’m still naïve enough to be able to imagine what our world would be like if all of us – from voter to President, from worker on the line to CEO, from new Christian to Moderator and Pope, from man and woman on the street to highly paid talking head – if all of us would sit down at the Table and enjoy together the bread of life and the cup of salvation, and if all of us would actually do the things Jesus tells us to do, instead of twisting his words to justify our selfish desires and our political programs.

Imagine. Well, we can’t make anyone do all that, not even ourselves. The flesh is useless. It has to be the gift of God. But we can dream, and we can hope, and we can pray. And we can hear the words of Jesus Christ, the words of eternal life, and we can share the Holy Supper of his body and blood, and we can ask God to give us faith to say along with Simon Peter, “We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

God our maker and our lover: open our hearts and minds to the words of eternal life, brought to us by your Word made flesh, and give us faith to proclaim with Simon Peter that Jesus Christ is the Holy One of God. Amen.

Robert A. Keefer

Westminster Presbyterian Church

Clarinda, Iowa