Today brings us to the conclusion of this long chapter of St John’s Gospel, and Jesus’ sermon on himself as the bread of life. Today, we are invited to decide on our own responses to the extraordinary claims Christ makes for himself, and to the extraordinary language in which he expresses himself.

We are informed that the response of many of those disciples of Jesus who listened to this language was to abandon Jesus. The way Jesus speaks of himself is ‘hard’. The New Revised Bible, which most Catholic churches in United States use, translates it as ‘This is unbearable language’, which sounds rather like someone writing to the New York Times to complain about swearing on any of the major networks, but at least captures the sense that they are driven away from Jesus by the way he speaks.

And this is quite understandable: we have been told that we must eat the flesh of Jesus and drink his blood, or we cannot have life in us. Jesus’ flesh and blood are life-giving because he is sent by the Father and draws the life from the Father (verse 56). This illustrates the central mystery of Christ’s identity. He is completely flesh and blood, as we are, living and breathing, sweating and thirsting when it is hot, bleeding when he is pierced and dying when he is hung on the cross. At the same time, he is truly united to the Father, enduringly coming from him and with him and the Holy Spirit, the source of all life, all existence.

He invites all people to share in his union with the Father through sharing, in the most intimately intimate manner of eating and drinking, in his human life, his death, and his human rising from the dead. This invitation is presented, in this sermon recorded by St John, in words both beautiful and frightening, both delightful and appalling.

Little wonder, then, that most people turn away. This invitation seems too magnificent to be real and too horrible to accept. As it was in the beginning, so it is now: if the Christian Gospel is authentically preached, preached as it was first preached, it will eventually meet with this reaction, and we know that it has been done since the earliest days of the Church. Neither should we be ashamed if this same reaction arises in our hearts too. The mystery of who Christ is, and of the life he provides us, is deeper than the ocean and higher than the heavens. It is like the sun bursting in, and if we find ourselves trying to put the pillow over our heads, which is only natural. However, the warmth of this sun draws us from our hiding places, and its brightness enables us to gaze at it, until we can do so unblinkingly in the glorious light of heaven. St John’s Gospel is a challenge to enter into the light, for all that it will show up our faults and failures, and not to be like those who prefer to scurry off into the darkness.

There is a third possible response that the Gospel does not anticipate. Perhaps it was not possible at the time, when Jesus was walking the earth, but it is possible and common enough now. That is to imply that Jesus did not say what he said or did not mean what he said. It is the temptation to reduce the mystery to a manageable size, to reassure ourselves that of course Jesus doesn’t really offer us his flesh to eat and his blood to drink… of course Jesus isn’t really saying that the sacramental sharing in his life and death are how we enter into the eternal life of God.

However, these words of Jesus are, as said by St Peter, ‘the words of eternal life. We can say with him that ‘we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.’ It doesn’t matter that we cannot comprehend the mystery of the Eucharist; all will become clear in a short period (God’s time, not ours). It is important that we acknowledge the reality of the invitation it offers us. To whom else, after all, shall we go?