The Mass readings for this Sunday continue to focus upon the “bread of life” discourse in chapter 6 of John’s gospel. Two weeks ago we heard of Jesus’ multiplication of the loaves and fishes to feed the large crowd that gathered around him, and last week we were presented with the discussion between Jesus and his followers that culminates with his proclamation “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.” This week’s gospel continues this discourse by first recounting the reasons why many of these followers could not bring themselves to believe that Jesus could be anything more than another ordinary rabbi in their midst – that he indeed “came down from heaven” – since they already know him to be the son of Joseph and Mary. Both last week and this week, Jesus contrasts the bread given to the Israelites in the wilderness, which only sustained their life for a time, and the bread that he himself intends to give to those who believe in him: “the bread of God” which “comes down from heaven and gives life to the world,” “the bread that comes down from heaven so that one may eat it and not die.” He then reiterates the identification of this “living bread” with himself by proclaiming that “the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”
When teaching John 6 to my students, I point out that unlike the other three gospels, John contains no institution narrative at the Last Supper, in which Jesus blesses bread and wine, declares it to be his body and blood, and then instructs his disciples to eat and drink it in memory of his impending sacrifice. In chapter 6, John affirms and intensifies this command to partake of Jesus’ body and blood, a command that would have already been very familiar and sacred to the Christian community by the time of the gospel’s composition. Yet by presenting the command in the context of Jesus’ public multiplication of the loaves rather than in the context of a private meal among his disciples, John emphasizes the Eucharist’s relationship to the wider world. The bread from heaven given by the Father is first and foremost “for the life of the world,” and only subsequently described as the bread that gives eternal life to those who believe. With the lone exception of Judas, the disciples at the Last Supper simply accept Jesus’ institution of the Eucharist, even if they give no indication of fully understanding it. In John 6, however, a great number of Jesus’ followers murmur questions and objections to Jesus’ claim to offer them bread from heaven, before eventually abandoning him entirely on account of his appalling insistence that this heavenly bread is his own flesh and blood, which they must eat and drink if they are to have eternal life. John thereby shines a light upon the bracingly literal nature of Jesus’ Eucharistic command, as well as the public scandal caused by it from its inception.
This contrastive reading of John’s bread of life discourse, while useful when teaching the gospels, can sometimes overlook a deeper and more positive aspect of John’s portrayal of Jesus’ identity and mission that is present here. This theme appears clearly in light of the first readings for this week and last, which are attached to the gospel readings from John 6. Last week, the Israelites express their wish to have died in Egypt rather than face the prospect of starvation in the wilderness. This week, Elijah settles down under a broom tree in the desert and prays for death, saying “This is enough, O Lord! Take my life, for I am no better than my fathers.” In both cases, God provides them with the bread they need to go on. It is not merely a matter of physical survival, however; it is about the will to live, a reason to keep going. Both the Israelites and Elijah find themselves at the end of their rope, with nothing left to live for, and so they both wish for death. Elijah is even given food, and yet he still falls back into the slumber of despair. Only by being called on a mission, on the adventure of faith, are they given something more than the prospect of mere existence. Only a direct relation to God’s will for them can give them life.
Underneath the more overt references to the meaning and importance of the Eucharist in the readings during these past few weeks is the bigger issue of what gives life meaning, what makes mere existence into life. In the second reading from last week, St. Paul exhorts the faithful in Ephesus to “no longer live as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their minds,” but to put away “the old self” of their former lives, to renew “the spirit of their minds,” and to put on “the new self,” according to God’s way of righteousness and truth. In the second reading from this Sunday’s Mass, St. Paul warns the same people not to “grieve the Holy Spirit” through acts of dissension and malice, but to be “imitators of God” by forgiving one another, so that the “aroma” of their lives might be same as Christ’s. What is at issue here is not assent to belief in the real Presence in the Eucharist, but a whole mode of life, a way of living that makes existence worth living.
The overall tone of the readings from these past few weeks is surprisingly existential in nature. The first readings raise the question by bringing us face-to-face with the situation of feeling like life is no longer worth living, as if the fact of existence alone is no longer enough to justify going on with life. The gospels, by contrast, stress that God desires to give us the “bread from heaven” which gives life to the world, and to our own brief participation in it. The Psalm for this Sunday reinforces this theme by focusing on what gives delight to the soul, and sometimes the only thing that can convince us that life is still worth living is to “taste and see” that God is good.
What is at stake in adherence to belief in the real Presence is not simply doctrinal orthodoxy, but deep personal, spiritual nourishment. Only the Father can give us what is necessary for true life in this world, for a meaningful, motivated way of living. Only God himself can turn our mere existence into true life, by offering us himself through his Son, present in the bread and wine of the holy sacrifice of the Mass.
