Tikkun Olam. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have
eternal
life.” John 6:54
Talk about mis-reading a text. Or, better yet, domesticating
it. To the sacramental Christian ear this sounds like: Take communion and you
will go to heaven. To non-Christians it sounds like this: Take communion with
us or you will not go to heaven. Or, If you want to get to heaven you better do
what we do and become like us. Or else.
All of these construals miss the mark, and as such create
much mischief. For all such interpretations mean to draw a line in the sand:
either you are on the bus or you are off the bus as Ken Kesey used to put it.
Either you are with us or you are against us. Become just like us or you are
flat out of luck. Even a moments reflection on the whole narrative of John and
the other three gospels would suggest that Jesus is not about such mischief.
Let’s review: this part of
John 6 began by feeding 5,000 people with a few loaves of bread and a
few fish supplied by a young boy. People are impressed. Blown away. They want
more of this. Jesus says you really don’t want more bread, fish or manna, you
want to eat my body and drink my blood. Do what? they say! That’s a long way
from bread and fish and manna. And offensive to our religious sensibilities as
to what we should or should not eat and drink. And blood is at the top of the
list of what ‘thou shalt not drink.’
To provoke them further, Richard Swanson suggests the text
literally says something more like this: “The
one gnawing of me, the body, and drinking of me, the blood, has aeonic life.”
[Swanson, Provoking the Gospel of John, p 356, et al]
That’s right. John’s Jesus says “gnaw” not “eat”. As Swanson
points out, such a distinction exists in German as well as in the Greek: essen means eat, whereas fressen “describes a noisy slurping,
gulping, gnawing, complete with growls and other noises appropriate to an
animal…The use of this word is a signal: expect disgust and offense.” [Ibid
232]
And so we read, They kept fighting with one another asking
just how does he give us his body to eat and his blood to drink? A more than
reasonable question to be sure. And the natural question to ask. And any and
all answers having to do with “he is instituting Holy Communion or Eucharist”
are really no more than our, the Church’s, domestication of what appears to be
an intentionally provocative text.
Further, I suggest that, as my old father used to say, we
are putting the accent on the wrong syll-ABLE! The longer I wrestle with this
text, and it has been decades now, I am only beginning to see that all this
gnawing and slurping of body and blood is aimed at the final words, “eternal
life.” Which Swanson translates more literally as “aeon,” or “aeonic life.”
Aeon. Not a word we often use any more. And when we do we usually render it
“eon.”
This becomes interesting when one learns that the Koine
Greek of the New Testament uses the word “aeon”
to render the Hebrew word olam. Aeon itself
originally meant life, vital source, being, a period of time, or an age,
forever, timeless, eternity. Olam can mean world or age. Olam haba can mean
afterlife or world to come. More to the point, however, tikkun olam means to repair or heal the world, or repair and heal
the present age, the present world, the present aeon. That is, we are not
talking here about heaven as much as what we should be doing here and now.
Tikkun Olam. Consider that John in chapter six portrays
Jesus shocking the crowd with what sounds like cannibalism and the kind of
drinking of blood or wine that was common in nearby Dionysian temples and other
dens of debauchery and idolatry – that is, those places abhorrent to Jews like
Jesus himself and those with whom he is debating.
There is no question that chapter 6 appears to be using
metaphors for Holy Communion or Eucharist. It is odd, however, that chapters
13-17 depict in five long chapters the Last Supper with no mention of bread or
wine; no mention of body and blood. Not one mention of these common elements of
our ritualistic rendering of the Last Supper on Sundays throughout the ages.
Instead, in chapter 13 John describes Jesus on his hands and
knees washing feet. And insisting, as he does in chapter 6, that if you are to
have any part of him and his life for your life you need to do the same for
others – all others. You need to serve others. And he also gives a “new
commandment”: Love one another as I have loved you.” “Love” in the Bible most often
means to behave and act constructively and beneficially on behalf of others and
the olam, the world. Tikkun olam: to repair or heal a broken world, a divided
world, a world that hurts and itself is hurting. We don’t have to like others.
We do, however, need to Love them in this Biblical sense.
Is it possible that John’s Jesus uses such jarring and
provocative language to turn our attention not to the act of receiving bread
and wine, body and blood, on a regular basis, but rather to focus our attention
on why we are to do that: to remind
us that like Jesus himself, we are to be fully engaged in the repair and
healing of the world rather than contributing to its divisions and destruction?
Simply stated: Holy Communion, Eucharist, Last Supper is a
time to gnaw on the most pressing challenges facing us as a people and the very
world itself so that we might fully engage in tikkun olam. The Eucharist John’s
Jesus describes is not polite and pious and well-mannered. It is a time for
gnawing on the big questions and big challenges for our aeon, our age, and get
up off our knees and do something about it. About all of it.
Is it possible that we have had this all wrong all this
time? Are we meant to emerge from Holy Communion feeling better about ourselves
and the world about us? Or, like those with Jesus, and Jesus himself, are we
meant to get fired up, and yes, even angry enough, do go out and deal with the
world’s, the aeon’s, challenges and do our best to Love others as Jesus and God
loves us?
These are the kinds of questions that we gnaw on in our
sleepless nights as we struggle to support a loved one who is struggling to
stay alive. These are the kinds of questions we need to gnaw on as we see an
overheating world literally going up in flames in some places and being drowned
in floods elsewhere. These are the kinds of questions we need to gnaw on as we
see ourselves being hopelessly further and further divided against one another?
This is what it means to be a Eucharistic people: those who gnaw on the big
questions, align themselves with Jesus and engage in continuing his work of
tikkun olam in and throughout the world. Tikkun olam.
This is what I hear once I dig deeper into this text in the
sixth chapter of John’s gospel. What do you hear?
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