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We are back into the narrative of St. Mark after our five weeks of intensive reflection on Chapter 6 of St. John’s Gospel. In the arrangement of the Church Lectionary, a section of Mark’s Gospel immediately preceding this Sunday’s reading is omitted, namely the grimly descriptive arrest, circumstances, and death of John the Baptist. By chance the text of the Baptist’s death is read this year at Saturday morning Masses, commemorating John’s beheading as is done annually on August 29. (Mark 6:17-29) The text is worthy of review, certainly for its theological message of the fate of the true disciple as well as its unusual literary narrative style.
Sunday’s reading is actually a collage of sayings and events, and every commentary I have consulted today has conceded that the text is a bit of a challenge to follow. However, scholars are also in good agreement that this sequence contains text that is historically very close to Jesus’ own words. Bible commentaries use the phrase ipsissima verba or “the very words” to denote sayings that may have originated with Jesus and have been passed down to the evangelists relatively unaltered. There has been tension building since the earliest chapters of Mark between Jesus and Jewish authorities. In fact, in just three opening chapters it is possible to identify as many as four distinct bodies of Jews who were distressed by Jesus’ words and actions, or as in this text, with the behavior of the disciples. In Chapter 2 the scribes (1) were angered that Jesus forgave the sins of a paralytic before restoring his health. In the same chapter the scribes again critique Jesus’ habit of eating and drinking with sinners. Also in Chapter 2, the Pharisees (2) are angered that the disciples pluck grain to eat on the Sabbath. In Chapter 3 the officials of the synagogue (3) are upset that Jesus performed a healing on the Sabbath, and the Pharisees join cause with the Herodians (4) to plot Jesus’ death. There are at least two different strands of teaching in Sunday’s Gospel here, both of them critical of contemporary religious practices. The edited narrative opens with the appearance of Pharisees and “experts of the law.” (The Law in question would be the Pentateuch and its multiple commentaries and customs developed over the centuries.) It seems as though they have made the trip specifically to discuss with Jesus his tolerance of a breach of law habitually committed by his disciples, that is, their failure to wash their hands before eating. Mark, as is his custom, steps back for a moment to explain Jewish law and practice, indicating that his Gospel audience was probably not Jewish and needed the background information. So the immediate question at hand is whether Jesus himself still respects the tradition of Jewish Law. Jesus’ answer does not directly address their question. Instead, he takes the longer view and comments in effect on the kind of mind that would ask such a question. He quotes the greatly revered prophet Isaiah in calling his protagonists “hypocrites.” Jesus refers to Isaiah’s condemnation of a people who honor with lip service but whose hearts are miles away. He then introduces a second train of thought: that the commandments of God were being ignored in an unhealthy preoccupation with human tradition. It would be unwise to interpret his teaching as a kind of antinomian rant, for in fact Jesus was a highly observant Jew throughout his life. His issue is with attitude and the crazy patchwork of casuistry that excused many from true observance of the heart. (When the late W.C. Fields was on his deathbed, a friend was surprised to find the generally unrepentant Fields reading a Bible. “Why are you reading the Bible now?” he asked. Field replied with his trademark drawl, “Looking for loopholes.”) The text continues with a commentary on moral observance, something of an argument in reverse. Jesus observes that wickedness is generated from the deep recesses of the heart, listing the most common failures of the human experience. Impurity, he notes, comes from within, not from without. Of course, he has never in this sequence addressed the original question of the disciples’ eating habits, but the omission is probably his point. Fuss over minor distractions had made it near impossible for the Jew to access the true evil that lurks in every man. His point, the one that would eventually get him killed, was that external observance alone was little more than social etiquette and was in fact an affront to the Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
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We are coming upon the fifth and final Sunday of the breads narrative of John’s Gospel, Chapter 6, after which we will return to the narrative of St. Mark for the rest of this liturgical year. For the past four weeks I have used as my “helper” the Jerome Biblical Commentary, but today I remembered I have the two-volume commentary of the Gospel of John by Father Raymond Brown in the Anchor Bible commentary series. It is a tribute to Brown that volume one of this work, published in 1966, still costs $56 on Amazon Prime. However, you can shop much more economically for all of his many and more recent works on his Amazon page or elsewhere. His premature death in 1998 was an immense loss to the Church.
Since Brown is one of the editors of the JBC, he would have great familiarity with the treatment of the Fourth Gospel as it appears in this work. In his own Anchor Bible commentary, however, Brown is himself the author of the analysis of St. John, and he has much more room to expound on some of the finer points of Chapter 6, notably the reading for Sunday. (John 6:60-69) He agrees with scholars who hold that Chapter 6 has been constructed by at least two and possibly three separate traditions: (1) the bread dialogue where Jesus proclaims his flesh to be real food; (2) Jesus’s identity as the one sent by God the Father, and (3) the destinies of the Twelve, notably Peter and Judas. Verse 60 is confusing on several points: who exactly are the “followers of Jesus” spoken of here? Are they the Twelve, or a much larger group that the Synoptic writers have returned to as “the 72?” There is no indication that the official Temple legation played any role here. This portion of the text, as it stands, is an “in-house debate.” Secondly, what are they arguing about? The idea that Jesus’ followers must eat his flesh? Or perhaps an even greater mystery, that Jesus is the One ordained by God to bring Jewish expectations to an end in his persona and works? Jesus’ response may help to clarify the thrust here. Nothing that his “disciples” were protesting “what he had said,” Jesus asks the question if “it” had shaken their faith. Continuing his answer, asks what their reaction would be if they saw the Son of Man ascend to where he was before? John’s audience in 100 A.D. would have no doubt conflated this with John’s descriptions of Resurrection, Ascension, and Pentecost. For in the next line Jesus states “it is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless.” I must add here that John’s use of “flesh and spirit” is roughly equivalent to life in God versus those who choose darkness; it is not a disparagement of human life, a heresy which many early Christians of John’s day were regrettable embracing. Inserted here is a peculiar sidebar from Jesus which seems directed at Judas, though Jesus speaks in the plural: “Yet among you are some who do not believe.” John inserts his own editorial note: “Jesus knew from the start, of course, the ones who refused to believe, and the one who would hand him over.” Jesus concludes this discourse by stating unequivocally that no one can come to him unless it is granted by the Father. In short, he is stating that his listeners must acknowledge that the God of the Holy of Holies, whose name they were prohibited to pronounce, was now present upon the earth through the agency of Jesus Christ. This would have been the hardest tenet of faith to embrace, beyond even the stupefying teaching about eating his flesh and drinking his blood. John fittingly notes that many of his disciples parted company with him. Remember, though, that there are many instances in John’s Gospel where Jesus’ followers laid low because of fear of Jewish authorities; with Jesus’ final authoritative teaching, there must have a sense among the astute that Jesus’ mission was heading for a showdown with the Temple and Jewish authorities. John uses the phrase that the departing followers “would not remain in his company:” i.e., be seen with Jesus. The final portion of the text contains the first mention of the term “The Twelve” in John’s Gospel. Jesus asks the Twelve if they wished “to leave me, too?” I am certain that John couched this text as a “faith question.” It may also have been a charitable question: is this mission getting too dangerous for you, too? Simon Peter’s answer is one of Christianity’s great prayers: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” Peter goes on to say that the faith process for him and presumably the other eleven has been an unfolding challenge, as he goes on to say that “We have come to believe; we are convinced that you are God’s holy one.” Peter’s answer is the direct antithesis of the reaction of the earlier larger group. It is hard to find words to adequately describe the contribution of St. John to our Christian heritage. In reading Xavier Rynne’s history of Vatican II, I noted that many Church fathers wished that the Church would propose a four-year cycle of Mass readings instead of the three, so that the Catholic community (and others who use our lectionary cycle) would have the opportunity for an entire year to reflect upon the unique style of evangelizing undertaken by John. There is nothing to stop a hungry Catholic from taking a good commentary of St. John for a deeper immersion into the nature of faith and the glory of the Word made Flesh. Consider the riches of the past five weeks—from just one chapter of John. If time allows today, I will try to research some possible titles for the “book nook” section of the blog. It is encouraging to see in my own parish and in the liturgical aids that come across my desk an emphasis upon the five Sundays of John’s Gospel, Chapter 6, as a unified theological whole. In truth, this is the concept of liturgical cycles A, B, and C in presenting one Gospel in its entirety or close to it, throughout the year. This thematic development of evangelists (or in our case. John’s Chapter 6) is one of the most overlooked catechetical opportunities, and I admit I did not come to this understanding until I was approaching mid-life and obviously no longer preaching. I can recall many years ago that when my various liturgical committees would sit down to meet, the inevitable question was, “So what is out theme this week?” We were working tiny corners of the field and missing the wider view of the Liturgical Year, the “good news” as put forward by Matthew, Mark, and Luke; each of whom brings forward a special thrust of the Master’s call. (We will be starting with St. Luke in Year C on Thanksgiving weekend, so it is not too early to start your own study of this Gospel and plan your teaching strategies accordingly.)
The concept of a lectionary dates back to the fourth or fifth century of Christianity, and most likely even further to Jewish practice. When Jesus took his turn to lector in the Synagogue (Luke 4: 14-31), it is clear that the day’s text from Isaiah—which would set off a firestorm—was “handed to him by an attendant.” This suggests, at least, some kind of predetermination of texts, and certainly for feasts. After the Council of Trent (1547-1563) Pius V composed what we call the Tridentine Mass, in use until 1970. There was a lectionary, to be sure, but since the same readings were used every year on the same day, the Scripture readings were just folded into the Mass text, as they were read in Latin by the celebrant. The entire Mass could be celebrated from one book. The Gospel might be read in English simultaneously by another priest, or after the Latin reading by the celebrant, but this was not universally required. There were two readings every Sunday, one an Epistle and the second reading from the Gospel, which: Pius V’s missal would draw from any of the four Gospels depending on season and feast. Vatican II (1962-65) was dominated by a majority of the world’s bishops who, among other things, were concerned that the Word of God played an insignificant role in the life and worship of the Church, From these concerns the liturgical architects drafted the three-year lectionary we use today. I was in my 20’s when the new lectionary came into being, and I remember the first thing that caught my ear: there were now three readings at Sunday Mass, not two, and the first reading was just about always from the Hebrew Scripture. This was a monumental step forward, though preachers to this day labor to make this point. The second major change was the three-year cycle of readings we spoke of earlier. It is worth noting that mainstream Protestant Churches—Lutheran, Episcopal, Presbyterian, Methodist—also use a lectionary very similar to ours. Congregation-based Churches—Evangelicals, Baptists, Congregationalists, for example—do not, as their theories of church authority are community based and do not depend upon outside ruling bodies. This Sunday’s Gospel is the fourth of five from John 6, and as we have seen so far there is a progression of “radical” actions and statements of Jesus now building to a climax. Similarly, there is, to say the least, a process of alienation among his hearers. After the multiplication of the loaves, they are ready to make him king. The next Sunday they seek more “signs;” last week they begin murmuring. This coming week they no longer hide their growing anger and/or confusion. However, John observes that they quarreled about Jesus “among themselves,” leaving room for even further alienation next week. The objects of their displeasure are two-fold. First, there is an unmistakable claim of divinity in this segment. Phrases like “living forever” and the fact that Jesus (and only Jesus) can and will give this bread went far beyond any claims of Moses and would have struck observers as bordering upon blasphemy. The very concept of life after death was new to Jewish thought and still not accepted by groups such as the Sadducees in Jesus’ day. But their greater consternation seems to come from the equation of this living bread with his own body. There is a critical translational note that needs to be inserted here. In John, unlike other New Testament writers, the chosen word for Jesus’ body is sarx, not soma. Both words would have translated logically, but soma carries the meaning of a living, breathing animated life form. Sarx on the other hand is essentially raw meat, what you might see in your neighborhood deli behind the counter. Thus the command to eat the sarx and drink the blood is about as literal as one can get: it essential translates to cannibalism, and it was heard that way, even by the Romans many years later. Joachim Jeremias in his The Eucharistic Words of Jesus (1955, 2014) correctly includes this paragraph from John 6 with the Synoptic Gospels’ Last Supper narratives as the basis for the reality of the Eucharist. Why, as the last of all the New Testament writers, did John choose such a controversial turn of phrase? The answer may rest with the times. If this Gospel was finalized around 100 A.D., as seems likely, the Church was wrestling with heresies about the nature of Jesus, some of these inspired (probably loosely) by the highly spiritual and metaphysical world of Plato. A predominant heresy of the time was Docetism, which taught that Jesus only appeared to be real but was rather some sort of phantom experience. Thus we have John’s dramatic response: the Eucharist as the actual flesh of Christ. A walk-off homer for Christian belief. The style of St. John’s Gospel has captivated its readers from the earliest days in its depth and elegance—and it has equally baffled two millennia of believers as to its authorship and editing. The most obvious question is how a roughhewn Galilean fisherman produced such a masterpiece. Complicating matters further is the fact that there are five books of the New Testament under the name of John—ranging from the profoundly theological Gospel to the three Pastoral Epistles to the heavy metal apocalyptic world of Revelation.
The place to start, of course, is the question of whether the Apostle named John actually wrote any New Testament literature in his own hand. John was an immensely popular figure in the early Church, as he is identified as one of the inner circle, along with Peter and the senior James. In the Synoptic Gospels John and James are known collectively as boanerges, “the sons of thunder.” They are the ones who urge Jesus to destroy the faithless towns he would encounter. After the Pentecost event, the writer Luke in his Acts of the Apostles pairs Peter and John as exceptional evangelists in the holy city, Jerusalem. However, Luke will then take the book to a different direction and follow Paul on his mission to the Gentiles. The Apostle John’s future works and deeds are not recorded, but they have been the object of much speculation. In the fourth and final Gospel in the historical line, John emerges with a significantly different persona, and its text strongly implies that John is no longer boanerges but “the disciple whom Jesus loved” pictured famously by Leonardo da Vinci leaning against Jesus’ breast at the Last Supper. I find humor in Dan Brown’s contention that John was actually Jesus’ wife, the basis for the novel The Da Vinci Code. The Synoptic portrayal of John is rather muscular, to say the least.) The Fourth Gospel describes John as the only one of the Twelve to remain with Jesus to his death; that Jesus entrusted his Mother Mary to John’s care, On Easter Sunday he is the first of the Twelve (after Magdalene) to reach the empty tomb, though he defers to Peter and lets the latter enter first. There is respectable but not conclusive evidence that many Christians looked to John for leadership, and that a community of the Church gathered about him. The tenor of the Letters of John and certainly the Resurrection narratives of the Johannine Gospel suggest a possible strain between Peter’s and John’s followers, as this literature works to put things in order. John 21 has Jesus asking Peter three times if he loved him, and then commanding him to feed his sheep. In the same chapter Peter asks Jesus if John will live until the end of time. Whoever was the mastermind of John’s Gospel (aside from God, of course) was truly brilliant. Although working around St. Mark’s basic biographical outline, this sacred author has a highly developed theology of the humanity and the divinity of Christ. He integrates such phrases as “the Word became flesh” and “Philip, he who sees me sees him who sent me.” He is the only evangelist to use the “prolonged discourse” to reveal God’s plan, such as the one we are hearing at Mass these five weeks. However, there has long been a theory that the author died before his final work could be processed, and that his disciples may have completed this Gospel in its final form. For all of its elegance, John’s Gospel shows some clumsy editing, and this will become evident in this Sunday’s Gospel. Our current reading of John 6 begins at verse 41, where last week’s reading has the crowd now “murmuring.” This is a code word, referring back to Exodus 15 and 16 where Hebrew “murmuring” against Moses led to the miracle of the water from the rock and the manna respectively. (Even in English translation, “murmuring” is a great example of onomatopoeia, words that imitate the sound of the action.) The crowd is disquieted to hear Jesus describe himself as the bread from heaven, but they do catch the significance in part, at least, of what he has said about coming from heaven because they turn to his local origins as they know them Verse 42 is taken from Mark with one interesting adjustment. In Mark 6:1-4 Jesus is derided as the hometown son of Mary; John amends this to “the son of Joseph.” John does not record Jesus’ birth in his Gospel, but nonetheless Mary gets significant favorable attention from the author. Jesus then proceeds with a series of statements. While each supports the main teachings of Jesus as the bread from heaven, it is noticeable that they do not flow smoothly in a sequence. Thus verse 44a: no one can come to Jesus unless the Father draws him; 44b: I will raise him [the believer] up on the last day; 45a: Old Testament quotation that “they shall all be taught by God; 45b: everyone who has heard the Father has heard him through me [Jesus]; 46a: no one has seen the Father except the one sent by God; and 47: “he who believes in me has eternal life.” One of the singular features of John’s Gospel is Jesus’ emphasis that judgment is in the here and now, not in a vague future. The raising of Lazarus later in this Gospel will emphasize this point. Jesus’ preaching that salvation pivots upon decisions made now lead inevitably to the conclusion of listeners that rejection of his words is an effective damnation now, which no doubt added to the hostility of the crowds. Verse 48 cuts to the heart: “I am the bread of life.” No matter what the disposition of each listener, clearly no one had ever said anything to them quite like that. Jesus leaves no doubt; verse 49 emphasizes the temporary nature of the manna and should not be confused with this new bread of life. The closing verse 51 is more radical still: the living bread is his own flesh. How will the crowds react to that? |
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