John 6:53-59 Real food and real drink
Jesus said to
them, "I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man
and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks
my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my
flesh is real food and my blood is real 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 live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because
of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your forefathers ate
manna and died, but he who feeds on this bread will live forever." He
said this while teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum.
Arcana Coelestia #4623 Real life
Whatever comes
from the Divine--that is, from the Lord--is real, since it comes from the
essential reality within things, and from what is living in itself. But
whatever comes from our ego is not real, since it does not come from the
essential reality within things nor from what is living in itself. If we love
goodness and truth, we have the Lord's life within us; so we have the life
that is real. For the Lord is present within goodness and truth through our
love for them.
Sermon
"Whoever
eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at
the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink."
(John 6:54, 55)
As some of you
know, I love reading classic New Church (Swedenborgian) literature. I
especially love books published in the early 1800s, when the writings of
Swedenborg were still fresh and new on this earth, and there were still people
alive who could have known Emanuel Swedenborg. I just started reading a
beautiful 1825 book of lectures by a great New Church writer, the Rev. Samuel
Noble, titled The Plenary Inspiration of the Scriptures Asserted, and the
Principles of their Composition Investigated, with a View to the Refutation of
All Objections to their Divinity. They really knew how to title books back
then!
Before starting
in on this book, I finished reading the Memoir of another of my favorite early
New Church ministers, the Rev. John Clowes. Clowes was a fascinating figure
because though he fully accepted the teachings found in Swedenborg's writings,
he never left the Anglican Church. In fact, he continued to preach
Swedenborgian ideas from his Anglican pulpit in Manchester, England, for
nearly sixty years, until he died at the age of 88. He believed that the
teachings found in Swedenborg's writings could and should be spread abroad to
the entire Christian world, rather than keeping them enclosed within a
specific Swedenborgian organization. And the strength of the New Church in the
Manchester area ever since is a continuing legacy of his long and tireless
ministry of outreach.
In 1834, three
years after his death, the memoir of Clowes's life that he had written at the
request of his friends was published in Manchester, together with many of his
letters. Reading this volume is like traveling back in time to the early days
of the New Church in England, when Swedenborg's ideas were just catching on,
and the new light of truth that I spoke of in last week's sermon was just
dawning upon the world. There is a sense of excitement in new discovery
shining out from the pages, all in that reserved English writing style.
There are many
delightful observations and thought provoking passages in this book. But as
sometimes happens, in my last session with it--in which I finished the
book--one phrase jumped out at me, and sent my mind into a whole chain of
reflections. On page 245, without much context, Clowes makes a passing
reference to "the world of realities."
"The world
of realities." What is the world of realities? For most people on this
earth--and probably for most of us most of the time--this is the world
of realities. A chair that we can sit on. Food that we can eat. Clothes that
we can wear. Cars that we can drive. Houses that we can live in. These are all
real. We can see them. We can hear them. We can touch them. We can
taste them. And if we bang too hard on something real, it hurts!
For those who
truly believe that this material world and its possessions and pleasures are
the ultimate reality, this life can be a rather limited and frustrating
affair. Consider someone who thinks that having lots of money is the most
important thing. Money is a hard taskmaster. For everyone who has a lot of it,
there are a hundred, or a thousand, or a million who do not, yet long for it.
And even those who have it, if they put their heart in it, are seldom truly
satisfied and happy with what they have. They always see something even more
fancy and expensive, which they want and cannot quite afford. In the end,
there is little real joy in the pursuit of material wealth.
Or, to get more
personal, consider those who live only for physical pleasures. Many people on
this earth--especially men, I'm afraid--spend much of their time longing for
their next sexual encounter, or going over in their minds their previous ones.
And though they may be inclined to brag about their great sexual prowess, the
fact is that few people who put sexual pleasure first have truly satisfying
experiences. Like any addiction, it is never quite as good as they'd hoped.
They are always searching for that perfect encounter, which never quite seems
to happen. And any relationships they form tend not to last, because they are
built on a desire for pleasure rather than on love for their partner.
Of course,
there are many other physical pleasures that people spend their lives running
after. Food. Clothes. The perfect body. The ultimate driving machine. The list
could go on and on. And of course, others do not particularly go for money or
physical pleasures as their primary goal, but spend their lives seeking power
and prestige, fame and influence. As attractive as they seem, these, too, are
fleeting.
People can put
these things first in their lives only if they believe that this world is the
world of realities. If this world, with its money, possessions, pleasures, and
power is the most real thing there is, then it only stands to reason that we
should spend our lives in getting as much of that reality as we can. As the
old beer commercial used to proclaim, "You only go around once in life.
Grab all the gusto you can." (By drinking lots of beer.)
When we think
this world is the most real thing, our enemies are poverty, powerlessness,
pain, and--the ultimate and inevitable enemy--death. And in the end, even if
we manage to avoid the others, we will all surrender to death, losing
everything we had lived for. This is the depressing end for those who see this
material world as the world of realities. Such people would have trouble
seeing anything good at all in our reading from John:
Jesus said to
them, "I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man
and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and
drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.
For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh
and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him.
I can hear
their reactions ringing in my ears: "Gross! Barbaric! Disgusting!"
As I've observed in a previous sermon on this passage, we are told in the
subsequent verses that many people were, indeed, offended by this statement,
and stopped following Jesus when they heard it.
Those who did,
saw this material world as the world of realities. They naturally interpreted
Jesus' words literally, as if they were talking about physical things. And
those who read these words today and are offended by them also see this
material world as the word of realities. For some, this is a chosen
philosophical position: they have rejected the possibility of a higher,
spiritual world and a divine being, and believe that the material world is all
there is. And for these people, there can be little meaning or message in
Jesus' words.
For others
though, it is not a matter of rejecting God and spirit. Many people simply
haven't encountered God and spirit in a way that makes these real and alive
for them. Some have no particular desire to do so, and probably wouldn't
bother reading Jesus' words. But others are open to deeper realities, even seeking
deeper realities, and simply need those realities to be illustrated both for
their minds and in their lives.
Presumably I am
"preaching to the choir," and anyone following this sermon is either
actively engaged in a spiritual life and a relationship with God, or is
seeking God and spirit. For us, reading this passage in John is like a
spiritual thermometer. It can tell us whether our spiritual atmosphere is cold
because we are more engaged in material realities, or whether our spiritual
atmosphere is warm because the true world of realities--the world of God and
spirit--has come alive for us. If our minds form disturbing images of
cannibalistic rituals, we're stuck in the reality of the physical world. But
if these words of Jesus bring our minds to warm and joyful thoughts of higher,
spiritual realities, then we have broken through the barrier into the true
world of realities.
Swedenborg
could have been commenting on this passage when he wrote the passage in Arcana
Coelestia that we read earlier:
Whatever
comes from the Divine--that is, from the Lord--is real, since it comes from
the essential reality within things, and from what is living in itself. But
whatever comes from our ego is not real, since it does not come from the
essential reality within things nor from what is living in itself. If we
love goodness and truth, we have the Lord's life within us; so we have the
life that is real. For the Lord is present within goodness and truth through
our love for them.
"If we
love goodness and truth, we have the Lord's life within us, so we have the
life that is real." Jesus was saying the very same thing when he
continued, in our passage from John:
Whoever eats
my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. Just as the living
Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me
will live because of me.
Jesus was not
speaking materially, but spiritually when he spoke of eating his flesh and
drinking his blood. In that higher world of realities, the flesh of Jesus is
not mere physical muscles or organs, but the divine, spiritual flesh of God's
love and goodness. And the blood of Jesus is not anything that could run in
physical veins and arteries, but the life-giving, nourishing wisdom and truth
that flows into our minds from God through a multitude of spiritual
"arteries" or channels.
A few of the
major spiritual "arteries" through which we receive this wisdom and
truth are the Bible, the Church, our family members and friends, spiritual
books, the world of nature, and for us, of course, the writings of Emanuel
Swedenborg. From these sources, and in many other ways, we gain the
continually renewed flow of knowledge and inspiration that we need to nourish
and replenish our minds with a new and continually deeper understanding of the
wonders of the material world around us, the complexities of the interpersonal
world of our relationships with one another, and the mysteries of the inner
world of our hearts, minds, and souls. The "blood of Jesus" that we
drink in our communion service is merely a physical symbol of the deeper,
life-giving, spiritual blood of God's truth coming to us in so many
ways, both outward and inward. Similarly, the "flesh of Jesus" that
we eat in our communion service is merely a symbol of the true food of love
and goodness.
Yet even if we want
these to be realities for us, there are times when truth and love seem a bit
abstract to us, while flesh and blood, our bodies and our possessions, seem
much more real. To bring out the reality of truth and love over flesh and
blood, I'd like to share a little incident with you, which I expect will
resonate with experiences you have had as well.
It happened
several months ago when I was putting Heidi (my eleven year old daughter) to
bed. Of course, I have a routine for the kids' bedtime, which varies according
to whether Patty is putting them to bed or I am. But I always give them each a
kiss and hug, and tell them that I love them. Whatever happened during
the day, at the end of the day, before they go to sleep, I like them to
know that they are loved.
However,
routines get to be habitual--that's why they're called routine. And that
bedtime kiss and hug and "I love you" can sometimes get perfunctory,
and perhaps be received as something done out habit rather than as an
expression of real feelings.
One night, as I
put Heidi to bed, I was touched with especially strong feelings of love for
her. So I gave her a few extra kisses, and stroked her hair, and told her I
that loved her. She looked at me and said simply, from the soul, "You
really do love me." At that moment, knowing that she was loved meant far
more to her than whether she would have the right clothes to wear the next day
or whether she would look just right or whether she would win the approval of
her friends. She was loved, and she could sleep in peace.
That is the
greatest reality there is. We are loved. We are loved by God. This is an
eternal truth that comes straight from the world of realities. And as we share
the sacrament of communion together, we will partake of that world of
realities if we know in our minds, and feel in our hearts, that as we partake
in the bread and wine of communion, our minds are drinking in the Lord's
truth, and our hearts are being filled with the Lord's love. Amen.