Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 122

As a result of this,
many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.

It's fascinating: it is precisely the Lord's teaching about eating his flesh and drinking his blood that drove many of his disciples away. They said, "This saying is hard; who can accept it?” and they “returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him." 

For Jesus, this mass exodus must have been painful to watch. But we do not see him chasing  after them to explain, "No, no! It was only a metaphor. I'm talking hyperbolically! You know, it's Hebraic exaggeration! I don't mean to really eat my flesh, but I mean. 'Just listen to what I say and do as I do.'" 

He didn’t do that. He watched them leave. He let them return to their former ways of life, no matter how mundane, desperate, pathetic, stupid, or depraved they might have been. 

Everybody knows the most important principle of all religions: there are two ways: the way of good and the way of evil. If you do good and avoid evil you will be okay with God. But Jesus turned that ancient teaching on its head. Rather than simply do good and avoid evil, we must be holy and humble as God is holy and humble. The worth of each person is measured by that standard.

And finally – and this is really over the top – “You must eat my flesh and drink my blood.” This is how we belong to the Lord. This is an entirely new and unexpected way of life; we ingest his body and blood as he ingests us into himself. 

But something else happens when we receive this holy communion: we are also bonded to strangers who come from different social classes, races, ethnicities, and languages, with differing political opinions and lifestyles. To believe in Jesus is to belong to his church, and to the people whom he has gathered into his church. We do not choose who belongs to his body, or his church. He has chosen us.  

But he offers no alternative; no one can opt out. This is not a choice of Wheaties or Cheerios; vegetarian or meat. It’s a choice between life and death. Despite these extreme demands, we cannot go halves with the Lord; he does not do half measures, nor does he accept half-measures.  

After the crowd heard his demand and departed, Jesus turned to the few remaining and asked, "Will you also leave?" Peter spoke for the group; 

Master, to whom shall we go?

You have the words of eternal life.

We have come to believe

and we are convinced that you are the Holy One of God."

And Jesus replied with great satisfaction, ““Did I not choose you twelve?” But then he said, "One of you is a satan." Perhaps Judas still hoped half would satisfy God.

I have described the Lord's way as holy and humble. Although Jesus was invested with all power in heaven and on earth, he did not aspire to power. 

Although he was in the form of God, Jesus did not deem equality with God something to be grasped. (Philippians 2:6)

Some people are fascinated by power and authority, and want even more; some people amass great wealth so as to live invulnerable and untouchable.

But it is precisely for his humility that the Father surrenders all authority to Jesus. As Saint Paul says,

he humbled himself,

becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.

Because of this, God greatly exalted him

and bestowed on him the name

that is above every name….

And as we heard the creatures of heaven and earth sing in the Book of Revelation,,

“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain

to receive power and riches, wisdom and strength,

honor and glory and blessing.”

And so we study, ponder, and practice the humility of Jesus that his Father might love in us what he loves in Jesus. He can use our meekness as he chooses, as a quiet, unimposing, nonthreatening authority to heal, comfort, guide, and -- when necessary -- rebuke. When we do things His way, we do not expect to succeed.  We do not aspire to success. We want only to be faithful as he is faithful, for he will not betray us, and we must not betray him. 

When Saint Francis pondered the Eucharist he urged his friars to, "Look at the humility of God!"

O wonderful loftiness

and stupendous dignity!

O sublime humility!

O humble sublimity!

The Lord of the universe,

God and the Son of God,

so humbles Himself

that He hides Himself

for our salvation

under an ordinary piece of bread!

Those who walked away from the Lord were not disgusted by the thought of cannibalism. That was not the issue. They despised his humility. They would not receive the Eucharist because it is the humility of God. And they refuse to associate, or be associated, with people who are not powerful, beautiful, charming, entertaining, or attractive. They will not welcome the lowly, despised, sick, or needy. 

God is too strange, too odd, too unfamiliar for them. His holiness, his simplicity, and his purity remind the wicked of their futility and hopeless pretense. They see in the mirror of his simple humanity their own absurd desire to be like god. His homelessness makes their homes feel insecure, his poverty reminds them that their property, possessions, and positions can disappear in the twinkling of an eye. When they consider God’s wisdom they know their knowledge and experience will become useless, outdated, and forgotten. Their castles are houses built on sand. 

The wicked want a god like themselves, powerful and craving more power; domineering, demanding, insatiable, and unhappy. They cannot stay with a God who appears like a human being and aspires to nothing more than loving, caring for, and remaining among his neighbors. They want a god who owns the universe, and eats sumptuously every day,  and gives nothing but the scraps that fall from his table. A god like themselves. 

We follow Jesus, from Bethlehem, into Egypt and exile, on the road with pilgrims, to Jerusalem where we will eat his flesh and drink his blood as a sacrifice to atone for our sins and the sins of the whole world. We follow the Lord to Easter.