by Patricia D. Nanoff
John’s gospel introduces us to the world of allegory. Nothing is as it first appears. In John’s gospel individual passages require a long view. Ordinary bread and wine become Jesus’ flesh and blood, his continuing presence among us. Everyday experiences become evidence of the Spirit of God moving through our relationships and encounters.
This gospel is pure poetry. It reveals the Christ-light in the interplay between signs and dialogues. The sign of the multiplication of the loaves sets off 47 verses of dialogue that reflect on its meaning. Jesus is the bread of life, the bread that comes down from heaven, greater than the manna God sent Israel in the desert. Whoever eats this bread will live forever.
The ordinary sign of bread points to Christ’s extraordinary presence throughout history — from incarnation to resurrection to life everlasting. In the rich tapestry of John’s gospel, individual story threads hint at a larger context and one passage can fail to make sense without consulting the whole.
Here the gospel resonates with our individual lives. The gospel writer does not intend individual episodes to stand alone any more than one choice can communicate the full meaning of my life.
- How would you tell your story if today were the only day to tell about?
- What is the fuller story of your life so far?
On this Sunday in Ordinary Time Jesus’ disciples react to the jarring paradox in Jesus’ difficult and extraordinary teaching in last Sunday’s gospel — “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life and I will raise them up on the last day.” Their reaction invites us into the dizzying experience of realizing that, like them, we have taken Jesus’ words too literally.
In this conflict we see the relationship between our old lives and the promise of new life, between ordinary and extraordinary. Jesus does not offer ordinary bread and wine, but rather the transforming experience of entering into new life with him. I find myself standing in the company of the disciples, wondering how I can even begin to comprehend what this really means?
Sunday’s gospel passage tells us that Jesus alone holds the power to work such an extraordinary transformation in us. Yet, standing fully in the world of the ordinary, the disciples cannot enter into this new reality. They stand in ordinary time and grumble. The teaching is too difficult, too unlikely, too unbelievable. Jesus challenges them by asking if they would believe if the lesson were more dramatic, like ascending to heaven?
Hearing this, some disciples realize they just aren’t getting it. The gospel tells us that they returned to their old ways.
I must admit that I understand that choice. I wish I could claim that I haven’t cringed from a lesson too harsh to be learned. I prefer my transformations more mundane.
- What do you find dizzying or jarring in Jesus’ teaching?
- What has helped you cling to rather than cringe from a transforming vision of yourself?
The most dramatic changes in my own life have resulted from the sometimes bruising encounters with people who love me. We live in the dynamic tension between what is asked and what we are able to do on our own power and initiative. Isn’t this the baffling miracle of Eucharistic presence?
Jesus is unrelenting, asking the remaining disciples if they plan to wander off, too. Simon Peter responds with a nearly archetypal response: “To whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”
We have come to believe, Peter says, even though the claim seems preposterous. The disciples can no longer live in the neat confines of their ordinary lives. If they are to remain on the journey, they must live as though they can comprehend the mystery of redemption found in the Eucharistic gift.
I am still doing dog-duty for my friend. She is in treatment and has found a calm place in the storm of her difficult life. She is finally able to consider the truth of her life choices without the harsh light of her self-hate as a companion. She is coming to believe that her life means more than wasted days and wasted opportunities. She is seeing a Divine reality in her sober relationships. She has found the peace that emerges when we are desperate or challenged or afraid and find we have nowhere to go except forward.
To whom shall we go? Jesus has the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that he is the Holy One of God.
- How do you understand the mystery of the Eucharist?