Commentary on John 6:51–58

Adapted from David Ewart, at “Holy Textures”

Before we get into the more gory details of flesh and blood, let’s pause and ponder the first 5 words:

“I am the living bread”

What does this mean? How is bread “living?” How is Jesus “bread?” I have not met a single person who believes Jesus means he has become a loaf of bread; that he IS a loaf of bread, really, actually, substantially. (Though the outlines of a great Monty Python sketch come to mind when I consider the possibilities.)What Jesus does mean is that there is something about bread that he is – and something that he is not, since he is LIVING bread.

Jesus is speaking to a large crowd that sought him out; that came into the wilderness to find him; that made a pilgrimage to see him instead of going to the city of Jerusalem for the Passover; that were fed by him from only five fish and two loaves of bread; that have wanted to take him by force and make him their king.

In other words, Jesus is speaking to a crowd that have felt the pangs of some deep longing within themselves and glimpsed the possibilities of some true satisfaction in Jesus. But as so often happens, they have mis-placed their longing. They have placed their longing on “king.” Jesus wants them to see that their true longing is for “bread,” LIVING bread.

The crowd has looked at Jesus through the distorted lens of their longing and seen “king.” Jesus is asking us to reverse our gaze. To look through the lens of himself at our longing. And, to help bring our longing into clearer focus, he offers a second lens: LIVING bread. When we look at our longing through the lens of Jesus and the lens of LIVING bread, what do we see?

John wants us to SEE into Jesus, and through Jesus, that our real longing is not for kings, not for things that pass away. Our true longing is for things that endure, that are imperishable: Light, truth, life, love, loyalty, kinship, abiding in God, hearing and responding to God’s voice / God’s call.

The bread of this life – even the miraculous manna of the wilderness – makes possible only life that is perishable. Yes it feeds us for today, but one day, we will all die no matter how much of the bread of this life we have.

Does the bread of this life truly satisfy all that we long for?

If so, then we had better party hearty today – for tomorrow we die. But if not, then Jesus offers himself and LIVING bread as lenses to help us direct the gaze of our longing toward that which truly satisfies.

Aside: At a time when bread was 50% of the calories eaten each day by the peasant folk who were Jesus’ followers; and each day’s food was earned that day; and was just enough to survive for a day; bread was life. But that life was a struggle, and that life ended in death. This is not the bread nor the life that Jesus is.

So, however it is we understand Jesus to mean that he is LIVING bread, that is how we ought to understand what he means by eating his flesh and drinking his blood.

Which is to say, Jesus does NOT mean that we are to understand these as literal, actual, material, factual, and substantial. “Eat my flesh” and “drink my blood” are lenses through which we are to SEE the relationship Jesus wants us to have with him and the One who has sent him, the One who abides in him.

In John, the stress is on the life and death importance of SEEing Jesus, believing INTO him (not just believing ideas ABOUT him), and ABIDING in him (and he in us, and him in the Father, and the Father in Him). In John, ABIDING is the key, code word for describing the relationship Jesus wants us to have with him – and with the One who abides in him.

John wants us to hear the word, “abide,” as being as viscerally real as “flesh” and “blood.” And to hear the words, “flesh” and “blood,” as dynamically real as “abide.” Abide is a verb. It not a material substance. It is not an essence. It is a dynamic relationship.

“Who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in them.” (Verse 56)

Understood literally, these words are gory and shocking. And indeed, as we will see in next week’s lesson, caused many of Jesus’ followers to leave him.

Which ought to caution us: Those who try to understand these words literally, substantially, materially don’t get it, and are not following Jesus’ teaching. These words are lenses. They are meant to correct our vision so that we might truly see what it is that will feed / sustain / nourish / develop into maturity our deep longing.

Even today – as then - “flesh and blood” could be used to refer “this life,” “human beings,” “our bodies.”

But Jesus’ words, “eat my flesh and drink my blood” are shocking. If taken literally – which they should not be – they are cannibalistic. Yuck. But even if taken metaphorically as lenses, they are still shocking.

In Genesis 9:3-4, God explicitly forbids Noah and his family (and thereby all humans, because in the Biblical story they are the only human survivors of the flood, and all humans are descended from them) from eating blood.

In Leviticus both blood and the flesh of the kidney and its surrounding fat are ritually dedicated exclusively for God: the blood is thrown on the altar; the kidney and its fat are burnt. To ingest fat or blood is to claim to be God who is the source of life.

Thus, the crowd listening to Jesus would hear his words, “eat my flesh and drink my blood,” as blasphemy, as an abomination, as a violation of a core belief about the Holy, and our proper relationship with the Holy. These words of Jesus are akin to the words of the snake in the Garden tempting his listeners to eat a forbidden fruit; to violate a God-given commandment; to violate the sacred ordering of creation.

But Jesus is not the snake in the Garden. (Genesis 3) Rather he is the serpent lifted in the wilderness who brings healing of ancient wounds. (See John 3:14 referring to Numbers 21:8-9)

From time immemorial, we of human flesh and blood have lived with the wound of being cast out of the Garden; cast out of our natural, birth-right, created, easy intimacy with God who walked and talked with us as the evening breeze cooled the heat of the day.

But John wants us to SEE that God so loves this world of human flesh and blood that the Word, which created that Garden, became flesh and blood light, life, and truth in our flesh and blood reality.

When Jesus invites us to eat his flesh and drink his blood, he is inviting us to ingest God’s Word, to feast on God’s light, God’s life, God’s truth, God’s love. To let them ABIDE in us, so that we might ABIDE in Jesus – and in the One who ABIDES in Jesus.

When Jesus invites us to eat his flesh and drink his blood, he invites us to be healed of our ancient wound and to live once again in ways that truly satisfy our deepest longing – our longing to live in ways that truly reflect our love affair with God.