The Body of Christ, Given for You

A Church article with View Comments posted 15 August 2009.
Tags: bread, communion, pentecost 11, sermon, year b

Occasion: Pentecost 11, Year B
Text: John 6.51-58

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This sermon was prepared for services at St. John’s Lutheran Church, Sterling, IL on August 12 and 16 and for services at three local nursing homes.

Over the last few weeks, we’ve been hearing in our Gospel readings about Jesus being the “bread of life.” Last week, Jesus’ hearers were shocked because he said “I am the living bread that came down from heaven.” They said, “No, Jesus, you don’t really mean that. You don’t mean that you are bread. We know you. You’re Joe and Mary Nazereth’s boy. We watched you grow up. My kids were on the same softball team as you – you’re nothing special. You delivered our kitchen table out of your Pop’s workshop a couple of years ago. So just who do you think you are?”

This week, we get an even more shocking statement: “…the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

I think we recoil from statements like that – maybe we don’t even hear them. We say, “No, Jesus, you don’t really mean that. You don’t really mean that you are bread. You mean that you are like bread, right? You feed us, make us feel good, satisfy our needs when we are ready for it. You’re baked up fresh and ready to go, like fresh bread in a bakery. All we’ve got to do is walk in and buy what you’re selling. It’s not that we actually have to eat you, is it?”

Well, is it? That’s the question the Jews disputed among themselves in this story. “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” they ask. Surely he doesn’t mean that. That is just too much. It’s enough to believe that he’s a good teacher and a really nice guy, right? Maybe he went and got some education and now he’s a rabbi – good deal, good for him. But now he gets all high and mighty and tell us that we have to eat him in order to live. That’s just gross!

And Jesus replies, “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.” Put another way, Jesus is saying, “…unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you are already dead.”

Just in case we again fall victim to the temptation to explain this away, Jesus makes even more inescapable. He switches verbs in the next verse, and even though our translation here again has the word “eat,” he is really saying something like, “Those who chew [or gnaw, or crush] my flesh [between their teeth] and drink my blood have eternal life…” Lest we miss the striking plainness of this statement, keep in mind that for the first several hundred years of the Christian church, Christians were accused of being cannibals.

I’ll be the first to admit that this sometimes doesn’t make much sense to me, and I’ll bet that you struggle with it too. But this offer of bread of wine is the wisdom of God – foolishness to the rest of the world, but for us the power and wisdom of God. Jesus tells us that it is so, and he gives two reasons why we must consume him in order to live.

First, we who eat and drink Jesus live in him, and he in us. It really is as simple as “You are what you eat.” If you eat a carrot or potatoes or mac ‘n cheese, eventually the parts of that food are broken down and become the very stuff we’re made of. That nutrition is how we repair our bodies. So if we are to live as Christians in this weary world, where we will be constantly knocked around by life circumstances and be constantly put to the test, facing trials and temptations, toils and snares, we have to have food for the journey. And the only food that has any kind of sustaining, life-giving power in it is Jesus Christ.

Everything else is a poor substitute. Everything else will disappoint. Everything else will spoil, go rotten, or be turned to ill. We confess that God alone is the source of all life. If that’s true, then only God can sustain life, and the way that we get that spiritual nutrition is eating the body and blood of Jesus – crushing him between our teeth, consuming him, and making him a part of us as we become a part of him.

Jesus Christ is the only food of which there is always and will ever be enough. You can’t run out of Jesus. When Jesus says that his flesh is “true food” and his blood is “true drink,” he is telling us that that his body and blood are truer food than any other food you’ll ever get your hands on. They are more like food and drink than anything else, because they do what food and drink do better than anything else – they give life.

But there’s a second reason Jesus gives us for why we must not just eat bread, but eat his own flesh. He tells us that God the Father sent Jesus to us, and that’s why Jesus lives. Jesus lives because he was sent by God. And then he says, in the same way, if you eat Jesus, you will live, too. Jesus’ life does not come from him, but from God the Father. In the same way, we don’t have life in ourselves. Just as life comes to Jesus from outside him – from God the Father, so life for us always comes to us from outside ourselves.

Thus, only when we seek life from Jesus do we have real life. Think about it this way: you can’t give yourself communion. Imagine if Pastor Mark tried to do that – he would be talking to himself! “On the night in which he was betrayed…” He could speak the words, but without someone here to hear them, what good would it do? You’ll notice in church that the pastor always receives communion from someone else – same reason. Here’s another example: if I step on your foot, I can’t forgive myself. How ridiculous would that be? “Oh, I just stepped on your foot! Oh well, I forgive myself. Wow, now I feel better! See ya later!” Just like you can’t forgive yourself or take communion in an empty room, you can’t give yourself life. You can’t give yourself something you don’t already have. This is eating that must be done with others.

Sometimes people wonder why Lutherans try to celebrate Holy Communion weekly. I think it’s because we cling to the promise of God in Jesus Christ, that this is Christ’s body and blood. It renews our faith for another week. It gives us spiritual strength for the journey. It reconnects us to God. It gets us ready for service as Christ’s hands and feet in the world. If it does all these things so well, why wouldn’t we want to commune weekly? Fish swim, birds fly, and Christians take communion – it’s what we do, it’s who we are, it’s in our DNA.

I would ask you to pay very close attention to the Words of Institution when Pastor Mark blesses the Lord’s Supper today. Martin Luther once said that the essence of faith in Christ as you come to the communion table is believing two little words: “for you.” “This is my body, given for you.” “This is my blood, shed for you.” Coming to the table is not a matter of being a good Lutheran, or a good Christian. It’s not a matter of being a perfect person. It’s not a matter of thinking, saying, or doing the right things. Instead, remember that Jesus Christ died for you. Remember that he offers himself as bread and wine for you. Savor that, dwell on it. Pause a second and soak it in. Remember that he is present in, with, and under this bread and wine for you. Jesus had you, me, and everyone else in this room and in this world in mind when he died on the cross. Not just those other folks, not just the other people in the pew. You – yes you!Hear those two little words, “for you,” and take them to heart, for that is the very core of the Gospel. It’s the very center of God’s love for you.