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To the one who lacks understanding, she says,
Come, eat of my food,
and drink of the wine I have mixed!
Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 18 2024
Wisdom has built her house,
she has set up her seven columns;
she has dressed her meat, mixed her wine,
yes, she has spread her table.
She has sent out her maidens; she calls
from the heights out over the city:
"Let whoever is simple turn in here;
To the one who lacks understanding, she says,
Come, eat of my food,
and drink of the wine I have mixed!
Forsake foolishness that you may live;
advance in the way of understanding."
Psalm 34
R. Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.
I will bless the LORD at all times;
his praise shall be ever in my mouth.
Let my soul glory in the LORD;
the lowly will hear me and be glad.
Glorify the LORD with me,
let us together extol his name.
I sought the LORD, and he answered me
and delivered me from all my fears.
Look to him that you may be radiant with joy,
and your faces may not blush with shame.
When the poor one called out, the LORD heard,
and from all his distress he saved him.
Brothers and sisters:
Watch carefully how you live,
not as foolish persons but as wise,
making the most of the opportunity,
because the days are evil.
Therefore, do not continue in ignorance,
but try to understand what is the will of the Lord.
And do not get drunk on wine, in which lies debauchery,
but be filled with the Spirit,
addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs,
singing and playing to the Lord in your hearts,
giving thanks always and for everything
in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God the Father.
Jesus said to the crowds:
"I am the living bread that came down from heaven;
whoever eats this bread will live forever;
and the bread that I will give
is my flesh for the life of the world."
The Jews quarreled among themselves, saying,
"How can this man give us his flesh to eat?"
Jesus said to them,
"Amen, amen, I say to you,
unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood,
you do not have life within you.
Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood
has eternal life,
and I will raise him on the last day.
For my flesh is true food,
and my blood is true drink.
Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood
remains in me and I in him.
Just as the living Father sent me
and I have life because of the Father,
so also the one who feeds on me
will have life because of me.
This is the bread that came down from heaven.
Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died,
whoever eats this bread will live forever."
I have never had so much trouble trying to capture my thoughts and confine them to words on screen. It's almost as if John's reflections defy my attempts to translate them into my words. As if they demand to be absorbed as they are by each of us: we need to soak in them until they saturate us with meaning - vital nourishment for body, mind and spirit.
So I will leave you to it.
Allow me, though, some comments that you might find interesting. With John's gospel many people find they don't know where to begin. I believe the intention of the writer was to share some reflections that point to the deeper meaning and significance of what we know from the other gospels. If those familiar narrative accounts are read at a superficial level they lose meaning. With the passage of time they become merely a collection of aphorisms and unlikely tales. The wondrous doings of Jeshua become formalised in performance rituals. John's gospel attempts to counter this drift.
Take, for example, the Eucharist. Already by the late 60s it had become ritualised, as Paul's reference shows when he summed up the memorial meal simply by recalling the ritual formula: 'He took bread, blessed it and broke it and said, This is my body.' Later the three gospels followed suit.
John famously omits this 'institutiion narrative' from his very lengthy account of the last supper, and when he does deal with the metaphor 'Bread of Life' he has Jeshua say, bluntly and challengingly, 'To have real life you've got to eat my flesh.' It shocked them then as it does us now, but there are two issues. The suggestion of canabilism is easily dispensed with; we're dealing in metaphor. But why did John choose "flesh" instead of the milder word "body" which Paul was so comfortable with in saying we, the community of believers, are the Body of Christ? Why didn't John stick to the ritual formual along with the others?
"Eat my flesh" is very graphic, very earthy. Was he suggesting that the nourishment we need will not be found in performing the ritual but in the blood, sweat and tears of real commitment to the work the Father sent him to do? In Ch. 4 we had the expression 'worship in spirit and truth', which takes us back to all those prophets who berated the temple establishment for their holocausts of animals while neglecting the orphans and widows.
There's nothing more terrible in today's world than the plight of the orphans in refugee camps - thousands upon thousands of them with no past and no future. Stateless, homeless, traumatised by experiences nobody should ever have to go through, and a life ahead of them without purpose or goal. What would it take?
Another thing stands out for me in reading John. It's the way he has Jeshua present himself as the challenge. Like the townsfolk in Nazareth, here in Capharnaum too, they ask: How can this man give us nourishment for the spirit? His reply is uncompromising: "I am the bread of life. You have to eat my flesh..."
I see that as saying: "You have to take me on with all the human reality that is really me."
In the prologue also we read, not 'And the Word was made man' as the Creed has it, but 'the Word was made flesh'. That same graphic, earthy term, flesh. Is it meant to emphasise that the Word became 'thoroughly human' - so that we would become thoroughly divine?
Why does that scare us, the idea of God coming so close, and our destiny to become one with God? Many people simply refuse to entertain the possibility of a god who could be so close. A remote "Cause" or "Origin" is acceptable, but a God who forms personal relationships with individuals is not? Why not? Is it too frightening? Have we an aversion to goodness? We enjoy playing along the border where light meets dark, risking a little, thrilled at the danger of falling into an abyss of meaningless nothing, but a life energised by hope, bolstered by the conviction of eventual transformation that will make everything right - where goodness is Godness - that's a bit much!
John's writings are the hardest of all. They are so demanding, so uncompromising. There is no escaping into ritual or tokenism, Jesus illustrates his purpose with a sign - nourishment, healing, care - and says 'That is what we're about: get out there and do the same.' He sets himself up as both the standard that everyone is measured by and the guarantee that if you take him on you can do as much.
To 'take him on' - to 'eat his flesh' - to entrust yourself to his coaching the way atheletes put complete trust in their coach. To join a team who provide real bread to the hungry, actual shelter to the homeless, real healing to the sick and warm compassion to those who mourn.
May this open-hearted wealthy nation of ours take as many refugees from that Gaza slaughter- house as possible.