Sermon for the Lord’s Day
August 23, 2009
Rev. Lorelei Hillman
University Presbyterian
Church
John 6:56-69
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.’ 59He said these things while he
was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.
The Words of Eternal Life
60 When
many of his disciples heard it, they said, ‘This teaching is difficult; who can
accept it?’ 61But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were
complaining about it, said to them, ‘Does this offend you? 62Then
what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? 63It
is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have
spoken to you are spirit and life. 64But among you there are some
who do not believe.’ For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did
not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. 65And he
said, ‘For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is
granted by the Father.’
66 Because
of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. 67So
Jesus asked the twelve, ‘Do you also wish to go away?’ 68Simon Peter
answered him, ‘Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. 69We
have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.’
We’ve
been working through one chapter of the gospel of John for almost a month
now. We’ve learned a lot about bread,
and about the Eucharist, our communion. We’ve
stepped a bit into the shoes of the people who John was writing to – 1st
Century Christians, generally of a non-Jewish background, who were struggling
to understand this new faith of theirs in the context of fearsome, if usually
localized, persecution.
The
earliest Christians were generally tolerated, as were other sects of Judaism. The Sadducees, those aristocrats of the
Jewish priesthood, could insist on their conservative faith. The Pharisees could live strictly by the
Torah. The Essenes, fed up with both
priestly traditions and Torah legalism, could take their prophetic,
purity-centered community out into the desert if they wanted. When the Christians insisted that Jesus was the
messiah, they weren’t the first to have made that claim. Usually, when the ‘messiah’ died, those claims
evaporated. It might take a while, but their
followers would come to their senses.
Even
the Romans were fairly tolerant of all these groups. They allowed the Jewish people their own
religion and their own law, as long as they paid their taxes and didn’t
rebel. Still, occupation is bitter, and
there were constant efforts by this or that subgroup of Jews to overthrow the
Roman oppressors. Any activity that seemed to draw down the wrath
of Rome was, then, subject to attack by other Jews. And the early believers, who called themselves
“The Way” were irritating people. They continued
the tradition of their dead leader, reinterpreting Torah, criticizing Temple authorities,
and exciting people with their speeches. Christians, as we know by the story of Saul,
in the Bible book The Acts of the
Apostles, were already being persecuted by at least the Pharisees shortly
after the death of Christ. As some fled
the violence, they took the message of Jesus north into Syria, west to major
cities like Ephesus and Rome, east into the Parthian empire, and south through
the Nabatean empire to Egypt.
The
Christians’ message shook Roman civilization everywhere they went. They did not adhere to ‘normal’ social
structures. They insisted that everyone
was equal, and this included slaves.
They taught people to value their belief in Jesus more than anything –
more than the local deities who were thought to protect a particular city, more
than family ties and social hierarchies, more than successful business and
public status. This caused trouble:
riots in Ephesus, where Saul, now Paul’s messages against worship of the goddess
Artemis were cutting into the silversmiths’ income; riots in Rome, where
Christians refused to pay homage to the Emperor as if he were a god.
Meanwhile,
in Judea the Romans could no longer control the Jewish rebels, who launched a
revolt in 66 AD (CE). It took four
years, but Titus finally recaptured Jerusalem in 70 AD and tore the Temple
down. Jews and Christians everywhere
paid the penalty – the taxes they had once been allowed to pay to the Temple
now went into the pockets of Rome. As the
people fled, they took their differences with them, into a world of uncertainty
and fear.
Let’s
face it, the Christians were quite odd.
As I’ve said, their religion contradicted much of what was ‘known’ and
‘acceptable.’ From the most obvious
points – refusing to worship at the local Roman temple devoted to the Emperor –
to the more obscure group rituals – sharing bread and wine in remembrance of
their crucified and risen Lord – in this atmosphere of suspicion, they stood
out everywhere they went. At different
times, in a number of places, it cost them their lives.
These
are the people to whom John addressed his gospel. Their faith was everything to them, for they
had come to believe, not only against their own religions and societies, but in
a time of real peril. The faith that was
everything to them might be their death.
John’s
gospel is full of ‘high Christology.’ He
makes claims for Christ above and beyond anything that the other gospels (Mark,
Matthew and Luke) make – his is the ‘cosmic,’ eternal Christ “through whom all
things came into being.” There is no
confusion about John’s Jesus being divine; he makes the claim for himself over
and over, using the very words of God from Torah, “I am.” And it would take such a Lord to make you
face a lion, or hold fast to your witness as you were being dragged to the
cross, or to a stake to be burned alive.
In
this section of John, chapter six, the situation of those 1st
Century believers is dragged squarely into the context of Jesus’ real life, and
his real relationship with those who believed in him. It is as if John is trying to say, “If you
want to follow Jesus, you will have to be totally different. You will have to live your faith as he did,
and it might lead to your death. You are
not the first to have to make this choice.
Here are your examples: some don’t believe at all; some will be
traitors; how about you, will you stay or walk away?”
Jesus’
DISCIPLES say, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” Jesus responds, “You think this is
difficult? What will you say about my
resurrection?” He tries to tell them, they will have to give up their bodies –
“the flesh is useless” – and trust instead what they have heard – “The words
that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.
Believe and you will have eternal life.”
Some,
he says, do not believe, implying, How about you? One will betray him. The question is, are you that ONE? What will
happen when the Roman authorities ask you, “Do you follow this Jesus, this
Christ?” What will you do when they tell
you, “Bow down before the statue of the emperor and worship him, or die.” Then “many of his disciples turned back and
no longer went about with him.” Many of you, John is telling his audience, will
not have the strength to go through with this.
You have been Jesus’ disciples, but you will not be able to stand firm
when the real test comes, when it is flesh and blood on the line, your flesh
and blood, Christ’s flesh and blood.
Then
Jesus turns to the inner group, the twelve.
“What about you,” he says. “Will
you leave me, too?” And Simon Peter, our
dear Peter, who always has the ‘from the gut’ response – “Not me, Lord, I will
go with you anywhere! Not me, Lord, I
will die for you! You are the Messiah,
Lord, the Anointed One of God!” – gives the most helpless, unformed answer in
the Bible: “Lord, to whom can we go?”
Didn’t
we expect him to say, “No way! We’re
here to the end! We’ll never leave
you!” Instead, he says something more
like, “We don’t really like this any more than the rest of the disciples did,
but somehow, we’re just not clear on what else we might do. So I guess we’ll stick around.”
You
and I don’t live in such dangerous times.
We come and go freely to church, read our Bible at home or at the
dentist’s office, speak about our faith without worrying about losing our
lives. But it is common knowledge that
church membership is declining. If it’s
not because we have to face lions and tigers, what do you think the reasons
are? What keeps people from becoming or staying Christians today?
Please take a moment to consider this –
why do you think people walk away from Christ, even people who have already
spent some time with him?
Some
possible answers:
They have had a bad experience with church in the past.
They don’t like what they see in the behavior of ‘church people.’
They think joining a church means they will have to conform.
The church teaches things they can’t believe.
They think it’s enough to be ‘good’ and ‘kind.’
They want to sleep in, go to the lake, visit friends and family, do chores.
They think their friends will make fun of them for being a believer.
I’m
going to guess that almost all of you have had these same thoughts and
experiences. I can’t tell you how many
people I’ve met who have been through a church upheaval, or had someone at a church
turn on them. A LOT of people quietly
leave out parts of the liturgy that they can’t affirm. We tend to pick a church that comes as close
as possible to what we already believe, so we won’t have to pretend, or be a
hypocrite in our faith. We think of
ourselves as good and kind. Sometimes we
want a weekend off! And sometimes we’re
afraid to speak up about our faith because we don’t want to be seen as
‘different’ or ‘odd.’
Why, then, are you here? Why here
today? When we ask the question this
way, in terms of the choice made on this day to stay and not walk away, I
believe we get to the heart and soul of Peter’s answer. “Lord,” he says, “where else would we
be? You have the words of eternal
life. What you tell us, what you teach
us, this connects us to God in an unbreakable way. How can we be so sure? We have come to believe that you are the
Messiah. You have convinced us. God has obviously claimed you. This we believe.”
And
then he takes it that crucial step further.
“We have come to believe,” he says, “and KNOW that you are the Holy One
of God.” What’s the difference between
believing and KNOWING? What’s, as they
say, the distance between your head and your heart? Do you believe
you turned the iron off when you left the house this morning, or do you know that you unplugged it? In California, what would they say is the
difference between believing you put
out your campfire and knowing that
it’s out? What would a woman in
Afghanistan say about the difference between believing she may vote, and knowing
that she has the right to vote?
Psychology
teaches us that in the learning process there is a length of time when we
practice a new skill – like bowling, or golf, or driving – when we have to
constantly think about what we are doing.
Our brains tell our bodies what to do, over and over and over, as we get
used to the new actions. Then, at a
certain moment, we suddenly begin to do it without thinking. Our body moves into its place as naturally as
if we had been born to bowl, or golf, or drive.
Suddenly, we KNOW how fast to swing our arm, or how hard to hit the
ball, or how to shift the gears, without checking all the steps along the
way.
In
terms of our faith, have we practiced Christ enough to KNOW?
This
teaching is difficult. Who can accept
it? What is the level of your commitment
– head alone, or head and heart? Will
you stay, or will you walk away? I hope
that you do believe. I pray that you
will also come to know. Amen.
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