I am the living bread that came down from heaven;
whoever eats this bread will live forever;
and the bread that I will give
is my Flesh for the life of the world.
and the bread that I will give
is my Flesh for the life of the world.
Christians, in our enthusiasm, often echo the above sentiment; anyone who does some particular act will live forever. Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque announced that anyone who makes nine first Fridays is guaranteed admission into heaven. Some Protestants insist those who are baptized in the Holy Ghost and speak in tongues will assuredly be saved. I have forgotten which saint insisted that anyone was has received Eucharist even once in her life will certainly be saved.
The sentiment is certainly understandable; in prayer we often feel such intense joy we cannot imagine anyone returning to sin after such an experience. But we know some real scoundrels met those minimal qualifications. Joseph Stalin was expelled from a Georgian Orthodox seminary as a teenager; he probably received the Eucharist at some point while he was there.
Scripture scholars say the Greek word in this text may be translated as feeds, gnaws or munches. In other words, one who habitually eats this bread will live forever. In any case, we’re not trying to figure the minimal qualifications for admission to heaven. That kind of gamesmanship insults the cross of Jesus Christ.
Rather, we should hear these words as an irresistible invitation to communion with Jesus. More intense even than sexual union, we should eat his flesh and drink his blood and know his being within us. Unlike other food and drink, his food arouses an insatiable appetite. We are never glutted with God, but continually hungry for more. The saints often complain about this hunger. You might recall the uproar when Mother Teresa’s private journal was published. She continually complained about God’s neglect of her. But, as painful as it might be, the saint cannot turn away from God. Even the loneliness of God’s absence reassures and energizes.
Eventually, at the end of John 6, many of Jesus' believers will desert him. Perhaps his talk of eating flesh and drinking blood is too much for their Jewish sensibilities; but I think they understand perfectly well what he wants. They want only a savior, someone to get them out of the mess they’ve made so they can create another one. But God's ways are not our ways; he wants full, intimate, all-consuming communion with his people.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.