Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Title: "Do You Know About Jesus? Or Do You Know Jesus?"

Text: John 6:51-58

that made the Romans and others suspicious

that Christians were really cannibals of some sort.

No, I’m not making that up.

One of the charges often leveled against early Christians

was that they ate other human beings,

based on the fact that they talked about

eating the flesh and drinking the blood of their savior, their God.

And of course, it wasn’t far from that

to a suspicion that perhaps they

were kidnapping and eating other people as well.

And even if the leaders, the educated classes,

didn’t really believe it …

well, it was still a useful tool for stirring up the mob

against this upstart religion.

"Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man

and drink his blood,

you have no life in you."

Truthfully, now:

If you were hearing those words for the first time,

and out of any context that you knew anything about,

wouldn’t they weird you out more than a little?!

I wonder, in some of my more offbeat moments,

whether the problem isn’t so much that people two thousand years ago

felt weird at the hearing of those words …

The problem seems to me that

we today don’t feel weird at the hearing of those words.

We’ve heard them too often.

We’ve made them so utterly "symbolic," and no more,

that they have very little power.

Ho hum, we say to ourselves.

That must be about communion.

Wonder why she’s preaching on that

when we aren’t even having communion today?

But what if the text really isn’t just about bread and wine?

One of the biggest challenges, and the most fun,

that I’ve had in teaching the intro to anthropology course at SMU

is to help students think through the practice of cannibalism

in the cultures that practice it.

Now, y’all, I know, this is a little icky,

but it’s really interesting,

and I think it has something to do with our scripture,

so stick with me for a couple of minutes.

In some cultures,

cannibalism goes along with warfare:

you defeat an enemy,

and then you cook and eat him.

It’s a way of symbolizing his utter defeat, and your complete victory.

You’ve not just left him on the field for the vultures to get;

you have consumed him yourself.

You have completely destroyed him,

by making him a part of you.

Can you understand that thinking,

even if it has no particular appeal to you?

But the other type of cannibalism is where students really have trouble.

In some cultures, the eating of human flesh

occurs only in the case of an ancestor, a loved one,

who has died of whatever cause.

So when granny dies,

granny’s family gathers around and has a feast

and the main dish is granny,

or at least, key parts of her that have meaning in that culture.

This has nothing to do with

wanting to destroy the person who has died,

or even with trying to keep their spirit from bothering you.

It has to do with taking that person into yourself

in the hope of becoming like that person.

Now, we can at least understand that wish, can’t we?

My grandmother on my mother’s side

was one of the most patient human beings I’ve ever known,

in addition to being an awesome cook.

I wish I were more like her in that regard.

Her husband, my grandfather,

could grow anything in his garden.

He was somewhat impatient with people,

but infinitely careful and patient with his plants.

I wish I had that skill,

instead of an almost superhuman ability to kill plants.

My father’s mother was creative and artistic

in ways that I am not;

and his father was a generous man

who argued and struggled and fought against racial prejudice

more than a decade before the civil rights movement.

They had qualities that I wish I had.

So, even though none of us here

would probably ever consider devouring our ancestors

in order to become more like them …

we can understand that wish.

We can understand that it would have a powerful symbolic meaning

to the people who do participate in such a ritual,

even if we would excuse ourselves and go get a Big Mac instead

Make sense?

Icky, but logical in its own way?

Okay, back to our text.

There is always the danger, of course,

that you will remember everything I’ve said about cannibalism,

and not another word,

but let’s plug ahead.

Jesus is using cannibalistic symbolism

in the verses we heard this morning.

I don’t imagine that anyone who heard him took him literally;

that is, even the Jews who were his opponents

didn’t think Jesus actually meant that his followers

should make a feast of him after he was gone.

Even so, it is a jarring image.

For one thing,

drinking blood is completely against the laws of kosher.

But even without that added problem …

what does Jesus mean by implying – strongly implying –

that his followers must somehow take him into themselves?

That’s a much stronger proposition than just "follow me."

It’s more like saying, "become me."

Do you suppose they were really ready to take that on?

Do you suppose that we are?

The thought of taking Jesus "into ourselves"

implies a kind of intimacy that makes many of us squeamish.

Do I really want Jesus to know me that well,

down even to the cellular level?!

Do I want him to influence me that deeply,

to exercise control over every aspect of my living?

Do I really want to know Jesus …

or am I content with knowing about Jesus?

You see, that’s a particular occupational hazard

for those with seminary educations.

It happens to the rest of us as well, to be sure,

but it’s particularly a danger for those who have spent a lot of time and money

getting educated about Jesus.

It’s easy to fool ourselves into thinking things like

"I know he said that in Luke, but not in Matthew."

"I know how he said that in Greek."

"I know John had his own agenda when he was writing his gospel."

and then, to think that that’s all we need to know.

We are experts "about" Jesus.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean that we know him.

That’s not to say that scholarship about the Bible is unimportant,

or off the right track,

or an impediment to faith.

It may be important to be sure that we know the truth about Jesus,

at least, so far as it can be discovered,

so that we can know him better.

Just like we have to know some things about one another

so that we know whether to trust each other,

to believe each other, to love each other.

But at some point there comes a decision time:

is there going to be a relationship here, or not?

It’s not too hard to make that decision

in our regular connections with one another.

But for many of us,

it’s hard to take that leap

in our relationship with Jesus.

For one thing,

we hear the language misused so often.

How many people have we come across

who claim to know Jesus –

who probably believe that they do in fact know Jesus –

but whenever they tell you what Jesus wants,

it’s always a projection of their own wishes and fears?

How many people have you ever come across

who know just what Jesus wants you to do?

But the main obstacle in the way of our knowing Jesus,

not surprisingly, is our own selves.

"Fear" is too strong a word,

though there’s a little of that involved.

"Stubbornness" is also too strong,

although there’s an element of truth to it as well.

Mostly, I think,

we’ve grown contented and comfortable with who we are,

and we’re afraid that really knowing Jesus

will throw the proverbial monkey wrench into our well-run lives.

If we really knew him –

not just facts and history and stories about him –

he might ask us to change.

He might want us to do some things differently.

He might want us to do some things not at all.

He might want us to start doing some new things.

He might ask us to love some people we don’t much like.

He might ask us to make a sacrifice of some kind for the greater good.

He might tell some of us to grow up,

and others of us to loosen up.

At some point we know, don’t we,

that if we really want to know Jesus,

if we really take him into ourselves,

as implied by eating his flesh and drinking his blood …

then all bets are off.

Anything could happen.

Well … yeah.

Certainly for those who knew Jesus in the flesh,

while he was walking around on our planet,

the choice to know him had significant consequences.

Some of those consequences weren’t pleasant.

But do you think they would rewind the tape and un-make the choice?

Doesn’t seem likely.

There’s nothing wrong with knowing about Jesus,

and becoming as educated as we can about his life,

the times he lived in, his culture, etc. …

as long as that never becomes a substitute for

knowing him, personally.

For eating his flesh and drinking his blood,

and taking him into ourselves,

and letting him transform us from the inside out.

For abiding in him,

and allowing him to abide in us.

None of us can know for certain what that will mean for our own life

until we do it.

We don’t get a road map.

Oh, we may have some educated guesses,

and those may be what keeps us from issuing the invitation!

But we won’t know what it means on our own life to know Jesus

until we actually do it.

And even then, we won’t know everything at once.

We do know where it will end up, of course:

eternal life with God.

But the way there … well, let’s just say

there will undoubtedly be adventures ahead that we never anticipated

and that we’ll have to depend on God to get us through.

May God give us the grace and the courage

not only to follow Jesus,

but to know him,

to become like him,

in service to one another and to our world.

Amen.