Jn 6:51-58

20 August 2000

 

"I'm No Vampire!"

 

Some of you may know that Banu and I like vampire movies.  I'd have to say that vampires are my favorite monsters, though werewolves are a close second!  One of my favorite vampire movies is Bram Stoker's Dracula, starring Gary Oldman as Dracula, Keanu Reeves as Jonathan Harker, and Winona Ryder as Mina Harker.

Halfway through the movie, there's a scene in which two things are happening at once.  While Jonathan and Mina are being married, Dracula is attacking Mina's best friend, Lucy.  Jonathan and Mina's wedding is taking place in an Eastern Orthodox convent.  (If you don't know the story and are wondering how they end up there, talk to me later!)  Anyway, the service includes taking communion.  So we're presented with alternating images:  the couple at the wedding drinking wine and the vampire draining the blood from his victim.

The imagery of the sacrament is just too obvious to miss.  In both cases, something is being drunk that gives everlasting life.  For Dracula, the blood he takes from Lucy enables him to continue his perpetual existence.  For Jonathan and Mina, the wine they drink is the blood of Christ, of which the Lord says in our scripture reading, "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life" (v. 54).  Holy communion, the eucharist, has often been called "the medicine of immortality."

It's not really surprising that a key part of the vampire legends would include the drinking of blood.  After all, the blood of Jesus is a pretty powerful image!  By the way, I said "vampire legends."  I realize that there are those who believe that vampires actually exist.  There are even some poor souls who are convinced that they themselves are vampires!  Given my sensitivity to bright sunlight, I've sometimes wondered if I'm not in that group!

Still, most of us, hearing this comparison between vampires and Christians taking communion, would say, "I'm no vampire!"  The people arguing with Jesus in our gospel reading have just as strong a reaction.  While no one there is terrified of creatures who avoid the light in preference for darkness, there is nonetheless a sense of fear and loathing inspired by his words.

This talk of eating flesh and drinking blood brings to mind some very old taboos.  Inscribed several places in God's law are prohibitions against these very things.  For example, Deuteronomy 12:23 warns "be sure that you do not eat the blood; for the blood is the life."  Leviticus 26:29 includes as a curse for disobedience, "You shall eat the flesh of your sons, and you shall eat the flesh of your daughters."  And now this Jesus is inviting us, even commanding us, to behave like cannibals and blood-drinking pagans!

Some have suggested that Jesus is speaking symbolically, as it would seem he must be.  One idea is that, "'To eat the flesh is to contemplate by faith the holy life of the Lord...to drink the blood is also to contemplate his violent death, to make it our own ransom, to taste its atoning efficacy.'"^[1]

That's no doubt an important lesson to learn, but Jesus' choice of words suggests something more literal.  In verse 54, when he talks about eating his flesh and drinking his blood, the term used for "eat," trwgein (trōgein), has a stronger sense than the usual word for eating, fagein (phagein).  It has the meaning of "munch" or "chew."  At first, it was only used for animals.  As Rudolf Bultmann notes, "It is a matter of real eating and not simply of some sort of spiritual participation."^[2]  Jesus says that "my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink" (v. 55).

Having said that, it seems clear that Jesus isn't asking anyone to do a Mike Tyson imitation and bite off a chunk right then and there!  The apparent absurdity of what he's saying only fuels the revulsion of his hearers.  Some must be thinking, "All right, he's trying to make some kind of point.  But does he have to use such a disgusting image to do it?"

Many commentators understand today's gospel reading to be about the Eucharist (with no mention of vampires!).  Some say that this is John's version of the institution of the sacrament.  It's important to remember that in John's version of the Last Supper, instead of any words of institution, we have Jesus washing the disciples' feet.  Instead of linking it with the final hours before the Lord's death, John links the sacrament with "the life-giving miracle of the feeding of the multitude," which occurs earlier in the chapter.^[3]

That brings up the other major focus of our scripture text—life.  Before Jesus has shocked his audience by calling his own flesh food, he has already referred to himself as "bread that came down from heaven" (v. 51).  And he's not simply bread, but "living" bread.  Jesus says he will give this bread, his flesh, "for the life of the world."  We're reminded of another statement three chapters earlier in John's gospel.  "Just as the Father 'gave' the Son (3:16), so now does the Son 'give' his flesh, and now, as then, it is not merely for the deliverance of one nation (as in the Paschal feast), but to give life to the whole world."^[4]

Jesus is able to do something that only God can do—give life.  He emphatically demonstrates this when he brings Lazarus back from the dead (11:43-44).  And during John's version of the Last Supper, Jesus tells Thomas, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life" (14:6).  Jesus claims to actually be the source of life.  That's the difference between "bread" and "living bread."  Jesus has life within himself; he isn't dependent upon another for it.

Now, we have to remember that John's gospel focuses on the deity of Jesus Christ, not his humanity.  "In the beginning was the Word."  From the very start, the message is that Jesus is God.  Luke, on the other hand, in his gospel makes a concerted effort to place the man Jesus of Nazareth within the flow of history.  He talks about things like who was ruling where when certain things happened.  I mention this, not because any gospel is all on one side or the other, but to show the emphases.  Jesus the man is part of creation, and like any created being, he will die unless he does things like eating, drinking, and breathing.

The thing about Jesus is that it's precisely his "fleshly" way of presenting God that drives people nuts.  He knows that he's saying stuff that makes his listeners squirm.  But far from trying to sugar coat his message, he becomes even more blunt:  "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" (v. 53).  That phrase, "very truly," is a favorite of Jesus'.  In Greek, it is amhn amhn (amēn amēn), and it's used to really emphasize a point.  Jesus is telling them, "Let there be no doubt about it; this is definitely the truth."

You see, we don't have life in and of ourselves.  Our life is borrowed; it's dependent upon God and all that God provides.  In a sense, we really are like vampires.  And I mean that in both bad and neutral ways.  (Sorry, but I couldn't think of how being like a vampire is a good thing!)

It's bad because, like vampires, we often do drain the life out of others.  We can turn positive situations into negative ones, make a special point to find fault, and in more serious cases, actually threaten the well-being of those on whom we rely—like some deadly parasite.  There are people, and this can apply to any of us, who just suck all the energy out of those around them.

We're also like vampires in a more neutral sense.  Vampires are not alive.  The horror movie term is "undead."  We aren't undead; we aren't monsters.  There's just the simple realization, as I've already indicated, that like vampires, our life isn't self-sufficient.  We must feed on another source of life to keep going, indeed, to have life that is eternal.  Jesus Christ is that source.

I realize that there's a problem with seeing our gospel reading as referring to the Lord's Supper.  By calling it the way to eternal life, the medicine of immortality, we run the risk of treating the sacrament in some kind of magical, superstitious way.  When Jesus says, "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life," we might be tempted to think that the mere act of eating the bread and drinking the cup infuses us with an unending life.