John 6:56-69John 6:56-59 is part of a section that began in verse 51 that continues with Jesus at the Passover delivering the discourse on the bread of life. This part of the discourse uses the σάρξ imagery, thereby raising the question of whether this discourse becomes sacramental, and a version of the Lord ’s Supper in John. The Eucharistic language of verses 51-59 seems clear. We best understand these verses if we locate them in the Last Supper tradition. Implicit Eucharist themes in the previous segment become explicit here. The verses resist over spiritualizing the Eucharist.[1]
56 Those who eat (τρώγων) my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. "Christ delivers us from ourselves in order that we may find Christ within us. Our journey to Christ is a journey into the depths of our own reality and into the reality that is all around us. Finding God and finding our true self have an intimate connection.[2] Receiving the Eucharist has this effect because it brings about an intimate connection with Jesus. John now extends the sacramental doctrine. It is not the eating and drinking itself that is important, but the personal union with Jesus that it brings about. The sacramental link becomes a personal union. In this verse, we find for the first time in John what scholars call the immanence formula, expressing in a characteristic way the close union between Christians and Christ. By mentioning the immanence of the communicant in Christ and immediately afterwards the converse immanence of Christ in the communicant, this formula of reciprocal union indicates simply but impressively the uniqueness of the union. In the earthly and human sphere, there is no counterpart to such mutual permeation without surrender of personality. The remarkable simplicity and conciseness of the wording must have been the fruit of an extended period of meditation and reflection on this mystery of faith. 57 Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats (τρώγων, feeds on) me will live because of me. The realistic understanding of the sacramental meal is not a magical one. Through the meal, Jesus unites himself directly with the participants, they live through him, and he will one day raise them. 58 This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate (ἔφαγον), and they died. But the one who eats (τρώγων, munches, feeds on, emphasizing and reveling in the physicality of the act) this bread will live forever.” Jesus discounts the value of physical bread in attaining salvation, emphasizing instead faith in his person. A more literal, if less elegant translation would be: “the ancestors ate” (using a past tense of the Greek verb esthio) “and died; the one munching this bread will live forever…” John invites us to “eat” of Jesus, to consume him, to devour him, to ingest him, and to feed on him. Truth is, “consuming” Jesus is good for us.
John is inviting us to pay attention. To do so would be a courageous and moral act. I sympathize with anyone who decides that checking out is easier. Truly participating in life is a difficult choice. My sympathy, however, makes me respect even more those who dare to pay attention and engage their world. Paying attention is a matter of becoming profoundly and painfully conscious of the world.[3] We have not truly lived until we have such consciousness of our world.[4] To gain such consciousness requires our participation. We cannot remain objective onlookers of our world and our lives. We must have the courage to engage and participate. We will not progress if we remain in studied detachment and disengagement, as if the perpetual tourist of life. We are not just passing through this thing called life. We must commit to something outside self. Plato connected our perception to Eros or love. One cannot know that which one is unwilling to love. We do not let the things to which we give attention to change us. We keep our distance and remain detached. We want to keep things in perspective. We must do that. Yet, we must not mean that we remain untouched by our engagement in participation in the world. If knowing and loving have the close ties that Plato thought, then knowing risks pain and loss. Thus, some people lose their courage and become lazy regarding life. They no longer ask, “Why?” Yes, the knowing intrudes on what one seeks to know. Have we become too timid to intrude in order to know truly? In a sense, our knowing is boldly working with God in creating the world. We get to notice and pay attention to a world we did not make in order to see the myriad possibilities in the world.
Our involvement in worship and Christian community is an effort to pay attention. We part of a minority in America who continue to believe that paying attention like this is important. Art is a form of paying attention to the world. It takes time and training to practice an art. You get better at noticing it as you go along. It takes time to notice what the artist has noticed.[5] The works of God are like that. Knowing them is not a spectator sport. God wants a people willing to risk witness to the true God who lives, rules, and loves. Ever since the Enlightenment in the 1700s, people touched by it have said they feel distant from God, god is dead, or that human beings have grown up and do not need one who creates and saves. Such persons no longer notice or pay attention. Attentiveness is a skill, a moral matter of taking the time and paying the price of true consciousness. One can come up with good reasons to stop taking the risk of paying attention. It costs something to worship. It costs to follow Jesus truly. We need to pay less attention to ourselves and to the crafty competitors who would urge us to follow them rather than Jesus.
John 6:60-69, in a segment that extends to verse 71, continues the theme of Jesus at the Passover, but now offers reactions to the bread of life discourse. However, the Twelve will believe. The response of the disciples is disbelief. The Galilean ministry ends with disbelief, as will the Jerusalem ministry in 12:37. Jesus' surprise message in John 6:53‑59 actually causes the reaction in verses 60‑69. The text portrays two crucial events. It portrays Jesus' final desertion by the synagogue establishment and by a large number of disciples. The change in location and audience cited between verses 59‑60 suggests the profoundly personal and painful nature of this desertion. This section illustrates the effect of Jesus’ words on his hearers. Jesus’ words expose the attitudes of his hearers and lead to a split.
60 When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” We can probably explain the striking change in the description of Jesus’ hearers, who now become the disciples and the Jews, by the writer’s immediate purpose of addressing his Christian readers. Whereas the debate about Jesus' imagery of bread and blood took place among the Jews "in the synagogue in Capernaum" (vv.41‑59), the scene in verse 60 focuses on Jesus' own "disciples." The surprisingly large number of disciples find Jesus' message more than "hard." It “scandalizes” them. As a well‑unified group, they "murmur" against Jesus. There is no apparent debate or dissent within this large gathering of disciples. They all complain. 61 Nevertheless Jesus had supernatural awareness that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? 62 Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? Jesus does nothing to ease the difficulty. The words are not a threat. His intention is to appeal to the disciples for a faith in which they can really see, that is, spiritually experience, the ascent of the Son of man. It suggests the saving specter of the cross itself. 63 It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. We find a contrast between the natural principles and the spiritual principle, as does 3:6. The Spirit gives life, suggesting the systematic evaluation in the link between the function of the Spirit in a theology of creation, the giving of the gift of the Spirit, and the eschatological function.[6] In recognizing that the words of Jesus were spirit and life, John is affirming the presence of the Holy Spirit filling Jesus in a way that enabled him to speak words from his Father. We have a hint of the Trinity.[7] Basic for the glorifying of the Son by the Spirit is the Easter event. For the Spirit does not merely give knowledge that Jesus is the Messiah of Israel and the Son of the eternal Father. The knowledge thus imparted rests on the fact that he creates life. We find this notion here.[8] 64 However, among you there are some who do not believe.” For, John tells us, Jesus knew, in a supernatural way, from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. 65 In addition, with an even more radical message, he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.” John may also be thinking of the latter part of the first century, when many persons may have left the Christian community.
66 Because of this, many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. What began as a chapter focused on a quest for faith (6:1‑36) concludes with a scene of ultimate rejection. The mass of disciples abandons Jesus and his hard words.[9] John sets the Twelve apart from the disciples whose faith fails. In Galilee, a falling away occurred in the sense that the people ceased to follow Jesus. This is what he has emphasized and dramatized in terms of his historical and theological outlook. 67 Therefore, Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” 68 Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. 69 We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” John can speak of a knowledge that comes after faith.[10] Thus, the text concludes with Peter's confession. Under these conditions of abandonment, Peter's confession itself goes unnoted by Jesus and uncelebrated by the remaining disciples. The saying of Jesus exposes them to the same attack, but at the moment of decision, they remain loyal. They know that they have bound themselves to the person of Jesus, and accept his words, even when they cannot understand them, as words of the revealer that bring eternal life. The exemplary behavior of Jesus’ closest companions becomes an appeal to the later community. Why should we follow only one prophet? Why ought we not to give a little honor to our own prophecy alongside and in opposition to that of Christ? Jesus has offered a scandalous word, a difficult and even intolerable statement. It evoked muttering and grumbling among the disciples themselves. Will the disciples go away? The answer of Peter is the Johannine counterpart to the Messianic confession of Matthew 16:16, bearing witness to the way in which the disciples overcame an offence that they also had experienced.[11]
In verses 70-71, Jesus responds that he chose the twelve, yet one of them is a devil. Of course, he was speaking of Judas, son of Simon Iscariot, for he was going to betray Jesus.
Do you wish to go away? At a time when John closes out the Galilean ministry of Jesus with the disbelief of many former followers, Jesus asks the question of the Twelve. It seems as if many American Christians face this question in a quite personal way. Are we among the curious, attracted to Jesus for a while, but as soon as the teaching or the following become tough, we walk away? Do we wish to go away? Have we had enough? When Jesus becomes the bread of our lives, as we eat and consume him, he shows us his love for us. Jesus comes as the hungry one, and we can offer the bread of our lives.[12]
“Lord, to whom can we go?” Peter asked the question. Yet, we could ask it as well. If we wish to go away, to whom are we going to go? Where will we go? What destination offers more hope than the place we are now? We may well need to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.[13] What person offers answers that are more meaningful than those we get from Jesus? If we are not careful, we may simply be among those who accumulate spiritual peak experiences. We can become greedy. The more we get, the more we hunger for more. Our hunger, rather than yet another interesting and moving insight, may be a sign of our hunger for wholeness.[14]
Do we wish to go away? If we do, we should go. I find no record that Jesus tried to get them to stay. The go-awayers. The betrayers. The stayers. Three options. The disciples did not really give their “final answer” until Pentecost. When will we give our answer?
Frankly, reflecting upon my spiritual journey through this passage has been helpful.
I first tasted that bread when I was ten years old. My mother left the Lutheran church in Austin, Minnesota, and started attending Crane Addition Community Chapel. I did not want to attend at first, and thought I was old enough to say no to mom. I stayed up late on Saturday night so that I was too tired to attend the 8 am service mom liked attending. However, eventually, I went the first time, and I kept coming back. I saw something I wanted. The alcoholism of my father had broken our family. I wanted to connect with some people. It was not long before I caught Pastor Joe between the two worship services. He just finished teaching an adult study. He was on his way to lead the next worship service. Yet, he had time for me, a ten-year-old boy. I said I wanted to take Jesus into my heart. He focused upon me so directly, talked briefly about receiving Christ by faith, and I said that is what I wanted to do. We prayed a brief prayer together.
Later, I became involved in the youth group. I grew in friendship and in faith. I started taking more of the bread. The first part of the New Testament I studied was the letter to the Romans. I started chewing and digesting the bread. I even started sharing some of the bread with others. You see, I became one of the youth leaders, elected president for one year by my peers. I started accepting some leadership and sharing in witness.
When I went to a Christian college, I felt my call into ministry. I started chewing and digesting more of the bread. As I continued to grow in faith and discipleship, I grew in my grasp of the Bible, I grew in my appreciation for the teaching of the church, and I kept chewing and digesting. Yet, I also knew I needed to share the bread the best way I could do. For me, that meant offering who I was as a preacher and teacher. I hope I share the bread in the way I live my life at home, with friends, and serving in other ways. It is not enough to consume the bread. You see, always, God makes sure we have plenty of bread to share.
In retirement, Jesus continues to be my bread. He feeds me in my personal study, devotion, and reading. He feeds me in my participation in a local church. I am happy to be around the edges this time. I am happy to serve where I can on occasion. Today, the feeding is more intimate and personal.
We can affirm and say yes to the idea that Jesus is the bread of life all day. However, until we can say from hearts, “Jesus, you are my bread of life,” it will mean nothing.
Like many of you, I have had experiences in which I could almost hear Jesus, “George, do you also wish to go away.” Most of us go through times of doubt and question. I have had those times. When you go through a divorce, when you go through the loneliness, when you find a new person to love, and when you are with congregations when they make difficult decisions, one needs to keep coming back to the bread of life. Clearly, I have not left. I keep coming back to this bread.
Do you find this notion of Christ being the center of your life or the bread of your life a difficult teaching? You may find it difficult to accept the gift. You may find it difficult to think of Jesus as the only real bread. You may have decided that bread in matters spiritual does not exist.
I hope you do not mind if I speak quite personally here. The bread is here. It does not come from George. Rather, it comes from God. We find it in Jesus. Feed upon this bread. Allow this bread to nourish your life. Like Peter, we say, “Lord, to whom [else] shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (v. 68 NIV).
What is the church but a bakery outlet, offering the real Bread of Life? A hungry world is out there, looking for something to fill the gnawing emptiness in the pit of its collective heart. When people come into this bakery outlet, we want them to find bread. They will freely receive the bread. They keep learning what it means to have this bread nourish their lives. They can learn how to share the bread, the love and grace of God in Jesus Christ, with other people.
[1] (Raymond Brown, The Gospel According to John I-XII, Anchor Bible Library vol. 29 [Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1966], 287-291). Noticing this shift in emphasis as well as the number of parallels between verses 31-50 and 51-58, Raymond Brown tentatively offered the hypothesis that verses 51-58 were a narrative concerning the institution of the Eucharist. He hypothesized that it was originally located in the discourse in the Last Supper in chapter 13 and moved here to bolster the understanding of the sacramentality of the bread Jesus offers to his disciples. This also makes sense if the evangelist wished to maintain the traditional link between the Eucharist and the Passover experience.
[2] Thomas Merton, The Living Bread, 93
[3] Virginia Stem Owens (in her And the Trees Clap Their Hands: Faith, Perception and the New Physics, 1983).
[4] In her autobiography, Virginia Woolf.
[5] Iris Murdoch.
[6] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 6.
[7] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 1, 267.
[8] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 2, 395.
[9] (see John Painter, "Tradition and Interpretation in John 6," New Testament Studies volume 35, 1989, 421‑450).
[10] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 138.
[11] Barth, Church Dogmaitcs IV.3 [69.2] 87.
[12] Mother Teresa said: “In each of our lives Jesus comes as the bread of life — to be eaten, to be consumed by us. This is how he loves us. Then Jesus comes into our human life as the hungry one, the other, hoping to be fed with the bread of our life — our hearts loving, our hands serving.”
[13] The important thing is this: to be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become. —Charles Du Bos.
[14] According to philosopher Richard Rorty: “The accumulation of spiritual peak experiences can become like a greedy person’s accumulation of money. The more you get, the more you hunger for more … But maybe what the soul hungers for is ultimately not a variety of interesting and moving insights but a single universal truth,” a single universal truth like, “Nothing in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
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