What we eat is very culturally bound. Even if you think you are an adventuresome eater because you’ll try any restaurant in Oak Ridge, it may be a far stretch to think that you’d do the same in rural Mexico or Bangkok. We come back to our favorites even if we occasionally like to try a Chinese meal, or have enchiladas at lunch. So even if you’ve ventured into Magic Wok in the little trailer on ­Tyler Rd. – I’ve heard of many American travelers, friends and relatives included, that have gone to China and still found a McDonalds for dinner.

So, we come to scripture this morning and find a very strange teaching indeed – one that is difficult and hard to accept. Jesus is teaching his followers that those who eat his flesh and drink his blood will be the ones who have eternal life. These flesh eaters and blood drinkers will be the ones who abide in him and live in him. And after hearing this, even his faithful disciples begin to complain of disgust. This is not what they had signed on for. In fact, because they couldn’t understand it, or perhaps even found it horrifying – some left, for good. Jesus speaks some harsh words of exclusion saying that, “No one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.” And sure enough, the crowds who had followed, some of them even former disciples, left him in droves.

Today, communion seems a rather less disgusting act. We’ve heard the words so many times that they don’t sound so odd to us anymore. Jesus said in the words of institution passed down since the night of the last supper, “This is my body given for you. This is my blood poured out for you.” Even faithful Roman Catholics seem to be wavering on their insistence on the doctrine of “transubstantiation” – that the wafer and wine of communion become the actual body and blood of Christ in one’s digestive system. The Protestant Reformation made this one of their early challenges, that communion couldn’t possibly happen that way – the eating and drinking are of a spiritual nature, not a carnal, bodily transformation. It lessened the gross out factor, and maybe made Christianity a little easier to stomach for some who were starting to give far more weight and credence to rational thought.

But I wonder, have we lost the punch altogether? Has this language become so familiar that the metaphor ceases to have that kind of gut reaction of “ooh gross?” Something’s going on here; either the disciples who heard Jesus speak these words did take him literally, or else the writer John wants us to get the message that this teaching is ridiculously difficult. Regardless, Jesus was insistent that not sharing in his body and blood would remove one from the competition. If you don’t finish this meal, that’s it! You must not be part of God’s chosen.

Over the centuries, communion, perhaps more so than any other ritual, became a sacred act for the faithful. It was essential for the connection of the community to maintain the mystery of this event even in its repetition. No communion would equal no faith; no faith equals something other than the “true church.”

I have to wonder, does a little square of bread and the thimble full of grape juice signify for us the gravity of the choice to open our spirits to the indwelling of Christ? Is our Communion truly the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ?

Now, I do happen to side with the Protestants on this one. For the Lord’s Supper to be significant, it doesn’t have to magically become Jesus’ actual body and blood on our lips. Nevertheless, there’s a meaning deeper than the symbolic. As Calvin says about communion, it is a spiritual transformation, an outward sign of an inward grace, a way in for Jesus that is something greater than the acceptance of Jesus as a “good man” by our intellect or reason. Something happens - something profound and something rather discomforting.

It should make our stomachs a little uneasy in approaching this table. The majority of those who were interested in Jesus fell away at this news. Only the 12 stayed with him, and even at that, they were mystified. They didn’t know what it would mean for them other than the disturbing news Jesus also shared with them that one of their fold would become the ultimate betrayer. At this, they were given their chance to leave, and they chose to stay. Sometimes, that’s all we can do to be faithful, stay when others are walking away.

When Jesus is ingested into the soul of who we are, our lives cannot help but be the same. While some churches rely on a prayer of belief as the way to know we’ve been saved, and others point to sacramental regularity, we call upon grace, grace enough to remain with Jesus even when we aren’t sure what the outcomes will be, grace enough to be entwined with his body and blood, grace enough to search the Word for a sign of hope, grace enough to know that we cannot possibly get it all right.

What happens here with the disciples is that they are given a reason to hope, and so are we. We don’t have to understand everything about this meal. Our theology doesn’t have to be perfect. Our intentions don’t have to be admirable even. We partake because Jesus asks us to. We can somehow just know that through this person Jesus, we can know life and abundant life at that. Jesus is the bread given for the life of the world. Somehow, in this meal, we become a part of that gift. We abide in this living Jesus who calls us to feed the poor and follow in a way that will be baffling to the masses.

This message Jesus brings both excludes and includes. It excludes those who need “right answers.” It excludes those who demand miracles. It excludes those who are threatened by paradox. It excludes those who have no room or time for love. We are those who turn away. But it also includes those who are afraid. It includes those who have questions about their faith. It includes those who love imperfectly and who struggle with the idea that God could have such a gift for them. It includes us all.

As we approach this table, we find both comfort and a certain amount of fear. What will abiding in Jesus mean for us today? Will it mean the hard work of forgiving ourselves or someone who has hurt us? Will it mean dumping our set of “right answers” for the mystery of faith? Will it mean letting go of our own personal securities to help another person in need? Eating of his body puts us out there to be the bread. Drinking of his blood makes us responsible to search for forgiveness and ultimately peace. Are you ready? Neither am I, but we are invited to accept this gracious invitation from the Lord of Love.

Amen.