[Jesus said,] 51“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.”
52The Judeans then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” 53So Jesus said to them, “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. 54Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; 55for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. 56Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. 57Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. 58This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” – John 6:51-58
What have you consumed already this morning, just in the time since you woke up?
I’ve eaten scrambled eggs, toast, and a large travel mug full of strong green tea. But I’ve also been consuming all manner of other things from the moment I woke up. Before even getting up, I took in brief news headlines that popped up on my phone overnight. Before leaving the house I took in an image of myself in the mirror to make sure there wasn’t anything glaringly out of place. I listened to a podcast on the drive down from Amherst this morning. Much as I try to avoid them I took in the large advertisements that line parts of the highway. I’ve subconsciously taken in who knows how many brand names and images. Maybe you’ve read the newspaper, watched the tv, or taken in the fresh air on a morning walk.
We live in a consumer society, where moment by moment the culture around us invites us to not just to want but to crave, to need more, to take into ourselves more. We are promised that the next version of the iPhone, the next fad diet, the next new car, the next promotion or raise, the next lifestyle change, the next bite of food will bring us the happiness and satisfaction that we crave. And as a result we can hardly get through a morning without being offered choice after choice of thing to consume. Sometimes I fear that those very things we seek out start to consume us.
We take in airbrushed images and magazine headlines that tell us our bodies aren’t good enough, thin enough, beautiful enough. And we are told to change what we eat and how we live to achieve the unachievable. And the images we have taken in begin to shape what else we consume in unhealthy ways.
We eat up only the news and conversations which reinforce our existing world view such that we learn to fear and demonize those who think differently. Before we know it we have divided the world into us and them and we begin to lose our creative power to see something deeper than our differences. The ideas we take in shape us and form us.
Maybe just as insidious we take into our own heads the voices that tell us we are not enough, the voices that tells us to be ashamed of who we are, the voices that keep us from loving and forgiving ourselves. We too easily hear criticisms and dismiss praise, taking in even unwarranted negativity in ways that shape our thoughts and actions.
We can cultivate other ways of being, but I think there must be something deep in our beings that is susceptible to the messages we simply cannot help but eat up. The things we consume seep deep inside us, become part of us. They shape us, they mold us, they create part of our identity. The things we consume so readily, begin, I’m afraid, to consume us.
So I’m skeptical when Jesus invites us to consume him, not just living bread, not just bread that is shared and bread that feeds body and soul but, as he repeats over and over in our gospel reading: to eat, to chew up, to gnaw at the very flesh and blood of Jesus. I’m not skeptical like a friend of mine from high school who was totally turned off to Christianity because she thought we were cannibals for eating Jesus’ flesh and blood. I can trust something about the mystery of Christ’s presence in all that. But I’m skeptical because I know what happens when you consume something. It becomes a part of you. It gets taken in to every cell, finds a way to touch each part of you. It begins to shape something about who you are and how you live.
And I’m not sure I want Jesus quite that close, at least not all the time. There are parts of me that I’d rather Jesus not see and touch. The parts of me that get impatient, the parts of me that are uncharitable and less than generous with others, the parts of me that are happy with the ways I enjoy privilege and power. I don’t really want Jesus knowing every last part of me, because not every last part of me is so great. And I’m not sure I want Jesus to know that. So consuming Jesus, when I really think about it, feels a little threatening, let letting Jesus in a little too close.
I’m also not sure I want Jesus changing me. Because when Jesus enters people’s lives he calls them to some pretty hard stuff. He calls the rich to give up their wealth for the sake of the community, he calls the meek to lead out in front, he calls the religious leaders and political leaders to make way for God’s movement in other people and places, he calls the disciples to go out without any provisions and to go into hostile territory to proclaim good news and to forgive with abundance. If we consume Jesus I worry that Jesus might start to shape and mold me into something I admire but which I am scared sometimes to actually become. I’m afraid consuming Jesus will lead me to take risks and to do some uncomfortable things for the sake of loving my neighbor.
When I read today’s gospel, something about it makes me ponder all those reasons I’m hesitant to consume Jesus. But I keep coming back every week because it’s in this meal that I have most clearly and most often tasted grace. In seminary when I wasn’t sure if I was welcome in the church I heard the proclamation that this bread, this Jesus is “for you,” and I felt that welcome down to every cell. When I cannot let go of a sense of shame for things I’ve done and left undone, it’s the bread eaten in community that sinks into my body and loosens the things I’ve held too tightly. When I haven’t been able to let go of my anger or grief or pain, it’s consuming Jesus that somehow has a way of wrapping that anger, grief, or pain in God’s gentle embrace.
The thing is that in consuming Jesus, Jesus doesconsume us. Not in the way that so many other things do, not in a way that eats us up or breaks us down or makes us less ourselves. But rather when we consume Jesus, Jesus wraps every last little bit of us in love and acceptance – the parts we are proud of andthe parts we might want to hide from God. Jesus swallows us in a blanket of grace that honors our imperfect selves just as they are. And Jesus does transform our lives, sometimes in ways that challenge and scare us, but always in ways that help us andour neighbors live more fully into God’s reign of peace and grace, to live into God’s eternal life.
So come now to the table. Come to receive what Jesus offered the hungry crowds and the questioning disciples, and even the skeptical bystanders and cranky religious leaders: the living bread, Christ himself. Come consume and be consumed. Come know the profound grace that is offered, and the joy of being formed into God’s holy people.
-Pastor Steven Wilco
Stewarding the Word 