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Sam and Jesus"

May 6, 2007

Text: John 6:53-56, 60-64, 66-69 

John 6:53-56, 60-64, 66-69

Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.  54 Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day;  55 for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.  56 Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them…” 

When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” 61 But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? …63 It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.  64 But among you there are some who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him…

66 Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. 67 So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?”  68 Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. 69 We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”  

NRSV 

How many of you love dogs?

We all have the fantasy of window shopping at “Pets R Us.” You see the cute little roly poly puppies cavorting around their showcase, tails wagging as they play with their brothers and sisters. 

You say to your son or daughter, “Pick out the puppy you’d like and we’ll take the doggie home!” 

And your child presses nose and hands against the window, eyes darting from one bundle of fur to another, until he/she settles on one—“Mommy, Daddy! I want that one—that one over there!” 

And your child points to… 

“Whoa!” This is Sam, who was once named, “the world’s ugliest dog.”

Sort of shocking, isn’t it?  

You know what? The crowd following Jesus in today’s passage felt the same type of shock. 

Up to this point in his ministry, the crowd had seen him as a beautiful Golden Lab puppy—soft fur, brown eyes, adorable. But suddenly, this Golden Lab was transformed into Sam.  

What had done it? The moment Jesus said this: 

“I tell you, 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…for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them…”   

Did you hear that?

“Eat my flesh, drink my blood.” In two and a half verses, Jesus refers to his “flesh” and “blood” four times. 

Wild, weird, crazy, repulsive. 

Now, of course, we know what Jesus was talking about—communion. But Jesus was saying this well before that Last Supper. How were his listeners to know this?  

They weren’t. Jesus was purposely going “over the top.” 

Why? I think he wanted to test his crowd of followers.

There were those who wanted him as their Golden Lab puppy, you see. Take him home, take him for walks, let guests come over and say, “Oh, how cute!” And when he said, “eat my flesh, drink my blood,” they could only understand that on the surface. “Repulsive! It’s like something from a B horror movie, ‘Return of the Living Dead’! Gross! Goodbye!” 

So,  

“Many of the disciples turned back, and no longer went about with him.” [6:66].

Jesus watches as they leave. He also sees those who remain—just a handful. He looks at his twelve disciples, after having been transformed into an appearance similar to Sam’s, and asks,  

“Do you also wish to go away?” 

Do you? Do I?

For those of us who base our lives on appearances, we do want to go away. We like to keep Jesus as a nice addition to our lives, a nice complement. We like the sweet stories about him, and the words he said that make us feel as if a Golden Lab puppy has just licked our face. We want Jesus to assure us that we’re living just as we should. We like Jesus to tell us we’re OK just as we are. We like Jesus to promise that if we do nice things, we’ll be rewarded. 

Yes, we want Jesus to fit into our lives.

And Jesus will have none of that.

Jesus will not allow himself to be an addition to our lives. 

He will be either our Master, or our Confronter—but he will not stand to be our next American “idol.” 

After all, Jesus once said, “my kingdom is not from this world” [18:36], with its catering to wealth and power and appearances. 

His followers are not the ones people “oooh” and “ahhh” over.

His followers are the old people, who live in a society that idolizes the “young.”  

His followers are the sick people, who live in a society that keeps the sick on the fringe.  

His followers are the poor people, who live in a society that caters to the rich and famous. 

His followers are those who can say from their experiences, “It is the Spirit that gives life—the flesh is useless.”  

Jesus’ followers are those who know that life is to be lived in the depths, not on the surface. It’s in the depths of life that love and grace and compassion are experienced. It’s in the depths that you find the courage to stand up for your values and rise up against injustice. It’s in the depths that you find hope in the midst of suffering. It’s in the depths you give up thinking you can make it on your own, and accept help from others. It’s in the depths you give up your pride, and try a little humility. 

Jesus is Lord of the depths of life. That’s his kingdom. You either follow him into the depths, letting him lead you to a life that this superficial world can’t provide—you either follow, or you go away. 

“Do you also wish to go away?” Jesus asked.

And Peter responded, 

“Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.” 

Peter’s heart had been touched by the Master’s hand. His spirit had been stirred when Jesus called him, and as he followed him. His eyes had been opened to see a beauty those who live on the surface could never see. And when Jesus would eventually host the Last Supper, Peter understood what Jesus meant: 

“This is my body…this is my blood.” Take me into you, let me be your Master, and you WILL live—forever!  

One summer morning many years ago, I was out for a walk. Approaching me was a stray dog. This dog was old and ugly. Thick, matted, dirty fur. It was a hot day, and this mutt was panting, tongue hanging out. 

Yet she approached me slowly, wagging her tail. I wondered how many times this ugly canine had been rejected and abused. My heart went out to her. She followed me home. I put out a bowl of milk. She lapped it up. 

I went inside, did some work. A couple hours later I went out, and she was still on my doorstep. She got up, and wagged her tail again.  

I was deeply moved by this animal who would have rivaled Sam in the ugly dog contest. I decided to adopt her. I even named her—I called her, “Dawg.” 

It turned out I had her less than a week. She had a virus that would kill her. It was as if she sought someone out to be with her during her last days. 

I cried when she died. 

We’re all “dog.” We’re all “frail creatures of dust.” We will all make mistakes. We are all destined to age and whither and die—whether we’re 99 and have lived a long life, or 29, and wear a Cardinals’ uniform.  

When we take communion this morning, we’re affirming this. And we’re saying that we don’t want to live on the surface. 

When we bow our heads and open our hearts up here—that’s when Jesus looks at us and says, “My beautiful children!”