Sermon for August 25, 2024
Pentecost 14 B
John 6:56-69
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
When I was with my son’s Scout troop for our 50-mile trek up north earlier this month, we had a secret to our success. Now, if you’ve ever spent time around teenage boys, you know that they can eat. And eat. And eat some more. And after they’re done eating, they say “is there anything else to eat?” A dozen teenage boys on a 50-mile trek of hiking, kayaking, and mountain biking need a constant supply of food to make it.
So the secret to our success came from someone who actually never hiked a mile, paddled a stroke, or turned a peddle with us: Mr. Carr. Mr. Carr had a nickname: “The Trail Angel”—because whenever the boys took a break from their adventure and tumbled off the trail, there Mr. Carr would be, unloading the van with piles of sandwiches, apples, granola bars, and potato chips, along with a giant cooler of Gatorade. And then, as the boys set up their tents in the campgrounds at night, there Mr. Carr would be cooking—hamburgers, bratwurst, pulled pork, or tacos for supper; pancakes, eggs, sausage, or oatmeal for breakfast. Our “trail angel” kept a continual supply of food at the ready so that these scouts would have the energy their bodies needed to overcome the challenges of land and water, and reach their 50-mile goal.
Except for one night—and this was intentional—but we wanted to challenge the boys a bit, and really get them into the backcountry. So one of the days we hiked with full backpacks along the North Country Trail, until we reached a wilderness camping area. After searching for places among the trees to pitch our tents, it was time for supper—freeze dried stew (which is actually not bad, considering that we were in the wilderness). But being in the wilderness, we could only carry a limited supply. Once it was gone it was gone. We had no unlimited feast, like the ones our “trail angel” had been providing on a daily basis.
Now consider all this in light of today’s gospel from John 6. Jesus said to his followers: “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the manna which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.”
Jesus refers to the manna, the “bread from heaven” that God provided for the Hebrews in the wilderness after they made their escape from slavery in Egypt. Manna was not actual bread, but a flaky substance that would appear in the morning in the desert. The people could go around their campsites and collect just enough manna for everyone to have some to eat, and then as the day heated up the manna would dissolve. It also had a very short shelf-life—it had to be eaten right away; you couldn’t save a little extra to have as a snack later. So when it was gone, it was gone. Kind of like my freeze-dried stew in the backcountry. But even though it was limited, it was just enough to survive in the wilderness.
The manna was a great gift, despite its humble appearance; and it taught the Hebrews how to trust the Lord to provide what they needed each day, day after day, for 40 years of wandering through the wilderness. Yet after 40 years of eating manna, that generation of ancestors died (even Moses), and it was only the next generation (led by Joshua) who were allowed to enter the Promised Land. When Jesus told his disciples that “your ancestors ate the manna and died” he was not disparaging the manna or the ancestors, but simply saying the manna served its purpose to help them survive day by day, but it was never meant to last for eternity.
Now, however, Jesus offers a new promise. It comes through another kind of humble food that is nonetheless “bread from heaven”, and it leads to communion with God for eternity. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them” Jesus promises. It’s something we Christians have heard many times, but it sounds a bit strange when you think about it, maybe even offensive—especially when you consider how the original disciples would have been following the Old Testament laws that prohibit eating or drinking the blood of animals.
So it’s not surprising that many of them would say to Jesus, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” It is difficult, even though Jesus was not talking about cannibalism. He’s talking about how he offers himself for the life of the world, and how he makes his life present among us in humble and surprising ways. He even turns the cross—and instrument of humiliation and death—into God’s method for sending grace and new life into the world. And the life that Jesus gave for us on the cross is the same life that is available to us in the simple feast of bread and wine that God sends down from heaven, the body and blood of Christ. It’s a feast that Jesus provides so he can continually feed us on our journey of faith; it’s the feast that he uses to be present among us, and bring his people together in unity around one table of grace.
So Jesus strengthens our journey of faith in Holy Communion by the physical act of eating and drinking, and with that, he is spiritually feeds us. And he invites you—he never insists, but always invites you—to feed off of his love, his mercy, his grace, his strength; he invites you to lean on him and “absorb his teaching, his character, his mind, his ways” [George Arthur Buttrick, ed., The Interpreters Bible, vol. 8, p.573-574] so that you can bit by little bit become a little more like Jesus, not through any power of your own, but through the power of the Holy Spirit who stirs up faith and new life within us.
Jesus never insists, but he always invites you to stay close to him, to stick with him even when it’s difficult, and during those times when you fall away (and it happens to everyone in one way or another, even the disciples who witnessed his ministry first-hand fell away for a time), he invites you to return to him and know that even if you once left him, he has never left you.
This teaching is difficult, because when we feed on Jesus it means we have humbled ourselves; we acknowledge that we need to be fed, by someone else; that we need to depend on someone besides ourselves. When it comes to the life of faith, we cannot feed ourselves. We have to look to Jesus to feed us. Like a “trail angel” who offers piles of food so the scouts can finish their journey, Jesus is our “trail angel” who offers “the words of eternal life” to anyone who turns to him. And as we turn to him, a greater, deeper, more intimate relationship with God awaits. Amen.