Joshua 24: 1 – 2a, 14 – 18; Ephesians 6: 10 – 20; John 6: 56 – 69
“One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore”.
This quotation from Andre Gide is one which stayed in the back of my mind for several years as I made the slow transition through selection, training and towards ordination. I knew that there was much that I would have to leave behind in order to move forwards into new life. For all of us, there may be times when we have to let go of something from the past if we are to stay close to Christ and keep going as Christians. Sometimes there are particular moments which bring into sharp focus the need to let go.
Our Gospel passage today captures such a moment for Jesus’ disciples. Will they stick with Him, or do His teaching and His demands seem too hard to take? As we contemplate the end of the summer and begin to think about the autumn months ahead this may be a good moment for us also to take stock of our Christian journey.
First, a little background. John’s Gospel is a multi-layered piece of writing and may have been written at a point when Christianity was becoming a separate faith from Judaism. Those who followed Jesus were no longer welcome in synagogues and must make some hard decisions about where their loyalties lay. Were they prepared to leave the security of the past and commit to the new faith? This may be reflected in the way in which this particular incident has been recorded. Jesus seems to be being deliberately provocative, and especially so to Jewish listeners. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them,” he says (v 56). This is a reference to the Eucharist, or Holy Communion, instituted by Jesus Himself. For a Jewish person, the life of a creature was in the blood. The blood of a sacrificed animal was always poured out as an offering, but the meat was often eaten. So even more so than for us, the idea of drinking the blood of Christ would have been a difficult one. At the same time the image of taking in the life of Christ becomes even more vivid.
It isn’t just the crowd who are finding Jesus’ teaching hard to take at this point (v60), but “many of the disciples”, those who had already committed themselves to following Him. After the healings and the wonderful stories, His teaching has now become difficult to accept; perhaps He has already disappointed by not being the kind of Messiah they expected. There has been no great revolution; He doesn’t seem to be the king they were hoping for who would bring in a new age of prosperity for Israel. So many of them turn back.
Jesus knew this would happen. When He told the parable of the sower (Matthew 13), He described the different ways in which people would receive His message. The seed which fell on the rocky ground would spring up but quickly die away when it became difficult to continue in the Christian life. Other seed would be choked by weeds – the cares and pleasures of life.
“One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore”.
This, then was also a moment of decision for Jesus’ closest disciples, the twelve. He asks them “Do you also wish to go away?” (v 67).
Our experience of life sometimes also makes faith difficult for us. Who of us has not at one time or another wondered if we have believed in vain? During the dark of the night, perhaps watching and praying by the bedside of a loved one in hospital? Or in the early part of the morning waking up alone and feeling the loneliness? Or thinking about family arguments and wondering why things have turned out this way? Or overwhelmed by conflicting demands? At these times it can be hard to go on making the effort to come to church, hard to pray and tempting to conclude that the promises we trusted were empty and the faith we once held was misplaced.
At such times, we too have to face Jesus’ question. “Do you also wish to go away?”
Peter, so often the spokesman for the disciples, is the one who responds: “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life” (v 68).
The way may be difficult. We may have to let go of some things we hold dear. But it is the only way to life. We may not be able to say why. Peter couldn’t. But deep down, like Peter, we know that this is true. George Herbert expresses this truth in his poem ‘The Collar’. I’m going to conclude by reading it for you now.
I STRUCK the board and cried, “No more; |
I will abroad. |
What, shall I ever sigh and pine? |
My lines and life are free, free as the road, |
Loose as the wind, as large as store. |
Shall I be still in suit? |
Have I no harvest but a thorn |
To let me blood, and not restore |
What I have lost with cordial fruit? |
Sure there was wine |
Before my sighs did dry it; there was corn |
Before my tears did drown it. |
Is the year only lost to me? |
Have I no bays to crown it? |
No flowers, no garlands gay? All blasted? |
All wasted? |
Not so, my heart; but there is fruit, |
And thou hast hands. |
Recover all thy sigh-blown age |
On double pleasure: leave thy cold dispute |
Of what is fit and not; forsake thy cage, |
Thy rope of sands |
Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee |
Good cable, to enforce and draw |
And be thy law, |
While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. |
Away: take heed, |
I will abroad. |
Call in thy death’s head there: tie up thy fears. |
He that forbears |
To suit and serve his need |
Deserves his load.” |
But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild |
At every word, |
Methought I heard one calling ‘Child!’ |
And I replied, ‘My Lord!’ |
Amen