Lordship Salvation. Free grace. Easy believism. Cheap grace. These catch-phrases, some with opposite connotations, each express certain convictions about the role of faith and works in the process of salvation. These phrases, while non-biblical, are not unhelpful because they are man-made. They are unhelpful because they are pinched slogans. And they are unhelpful because they rely too heavily upon modern Protestant constructions of Pauline theology.
Protestants undergird their constructions of Paul’s theology by appeal to the Gospel of John, seeing it as much more compatible than the ethical orientation of the synoptic gospels. This is because the Gospel of John uses the Greek verb πιστεύω with incredible frequency (98 times), and when John mentions “work” and “faith” in the same breath, he expresses himself in a way that seems comfortable for advocates of sola fide: “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent” (John 6:29, ESV).
Interestingly, this assertion comes right out of a passage traditionally used by Catholics to argue for their doctrine of the Real Presence in the Eucharist. Notice the irony. Two competing systems appeal to the same text to justify their representative motifs against the other? Whoever said interpreting the Bible was straightforward?
As a Protestant, I prioritized verses like John 6:29 as a lens through which to interpret the surrounding verses I considered confusing—all the unfamiliar stuff about eating flesh and drinking blood. The purpose of this article is to document what is happening here, why it is happening, and evaluate other options for non-Greek-speaking readers of this passage.
Johannine Allusions to the Eucharist?
While John is captivated by the Greek verb πιστεύω, he uses that Pauline term, the hallmark of Protestant theology, the Greek noun πίστις, precisely never in his Gospel. In his traditional corpus, Paul uses πίστις about three times as often (some 142 times) as the verb. Are such differences merely stylistic? Or do genuine semantic differences exist between related nouns and verbs—differences that impact interpretation?
One way into this question is to ask whether John concerns himself with the Eucharist at all? After all, the Gospel of John is the only gospel that does not explicitly describe the Last Supper. You will not find, “this is my body” or “this is my blood” nor any mention of the meal on Holy Thursday, although you do strangely find parallel condemnations of Judas at the end of both John 6 and the Last Supper narratives.
In light of this, one might be tempted to wonder whether the Eucharist is even in view in John. But this temptation is what happens when we forget that the New Testament was written for and heard by communities who were gathering around the Eucharist. That’s why Paul gives Eucharistic orientation in 1 Cor. 11:23-26 (along with stiff warnings in vv. 27-30). And why Acts 2.42b characterizes the early Christian communities as “devoted . . . to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (ESV). The “bread-breaking”, as devotion, was not merely eating a meal together. The Eucharist characterized the church’s gatherings.
With our modern outlook, we can sometimes assume that the early church approached their reading of the four Gospels like we do—one at a time and without awareness that they are meant to be read together as a fourfold testimony to the single Gospel. But John wrote well after the synoptic gospel accounts, when accounts of the Last Supper were unneeded. Instead, there was also a need to explain the Eucharist, its meaning, symbolism, and practice, and what it implied for the shape of liturgical life. In other words, the Gospel of John assumes the earlier devotional and historical realities we see so clearly attested in Paul and Acts, that is, the centrality of the Eucharist in the church’s life.
The historical point then is that John was writing significantly after the synoptics and after breaking bread had become an established, central practice of the early Christian community (Acts 2.42). Early readers would have naturally and readily seen references to the Eucharist. We too should be ever mindful of allusions to it.
Basic Assertions about Christ’s Flesh and Blood
We find the relevant passage, not long after the book begins in John 6.25-58. These are the relevant mysteries:
“I am the bread of life . . .. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (6.48b-51, ESV)
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.” (6.53-56, ESV)
This pericope doesn’t definitively settle whether Catholic transubstantiation, Lutheran consubstantiation, or some other view is most accurate. These terms and categories (or their denunciation) rely upon extrabiblical language and reasoning, so we will leave them aside for now and instead consider the significance of a few key contours.
Christ’s flesh is the bread (vv. 48, 53), it must be eaten to have life (v. 50), and that life is eternal (v. 54). Moreover, we are not talking about something optional. One cannot refuse to “eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood”, for this means there is no life within (v. 53). This is mandatory and a sign that one has eternal life.
With the phrases “to eat flesh” and “to drink blood” we are faced with a few questions. Do “flesh” and “blood” refer to the same realities as “meat” (βρῶσις in v. 27) and “bread” (ἄρτος in v. 32)? Does “to eat” and “to drink” mean the same as “to believe”? And what do statements like “this is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent” (v. 29) and “whoever believes has eternal life” (v. 47) tell us about the relationship between faith and works and the eternal life which comes from eating his flesh and drinking his blood?
Evangelical Assumptions Contrasted to Saint Augustine’s Assumptions
Evangelicals tend to conflate all this imagery. They are in good company. Saint Augustine, in his explication of this passage, conflates “to believe on Him” with “to eat the meat . . . which endureth unto eternal life”:
“Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He has sent.” This is then to eat the meat, not that which perisheth, but that which endureth unto eternal life. To what purpose dost thou make ready teeth and stomach? Believe, and thou hast eaten already. (Tractate xxv.12 on John 6:15–44 [NPNF 7]; and with “to eat bread” in Tractate xxvi.1 on John 6:41–59: “For to believe on Him is to eat the living bread. He that believes eats; he is sated invisibly, because invisibly is he born again.”)
In the same comment from Tractate xxv, Augustine, like evangelicals, believes Paul to be relevant. The following statement may warm the heart of sola fide Christians: “Faith is indeed distinguished from works, even as the apostle [Paul] says, ‘that a man is justified by faith without the works of the law’” (ibid.).
But it is not enough to highlight the similarities with Augustine, as the Reformers commonly did, because the differences contextualize the significance of those similarities. Augustine makes important clarifications that highlight how, in making the equations evangelicals do, they reverse the order and break the balance, constructing something out of shape and proportion.
The first clarification Augustine makes lies in the overt move not to equate “differentiation” with “separation”. The fuller version:
Faith is indeed distinguished from works, even as the apostle [Paul] says, “that a man is justified by faith without the works of the law:” there are works which appear good, without faith in Christ; but they are not good, because they are not referred to that end in which works are good; “for Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth.” For that reason, He [Jesus] willeth not to distinguish faith from work, but declared faith itself to be work.
While evangelicals assign works to a secondary, non-necessary category that plays no part in justification, Augustine stresses that a central work is required, namely, believing. Although working can be distinguished from faith, it cannot be separated. This is why Jesus himself “willeth not to distinguish faith from work.”
Whereas evangelicals often emphasize the inner, invisible act of believing, the second clarification Augustine makes pertains to the meaning of the phrase “to believe upon”:
He does not say, That ye believe Him, but, that ye believe on Him. For the devils believed Him, and did not believe on Him; and we believe Paul, but do not believe on Paul. To believe on Him is believing to love, believing to honour Him, believing to go unto Him, and be made members incorporate of His Body. The faith, which God requires of us, is that which worketh by love. (Catena Aurea 4.226, attributed to Augustine, Tractate 25)
Augustine defines “believing” as “believing to love, believing to honour Him, believing to go unto Him, and be made members incorporate of His Body.” Now this is significant because these are actions and orientations. This “believing” is not something somebody possesses (as the English noun “faith”, like any noun, might imply). We would not ask somebody, “Do you have faith?” We would ask, “What loving acts show you are believing? What honour are you giving him to show you are believing?” “How do you go to him to be made members of his body to show you are believing?” The emphasis is not on intellectual (or emotional) having but doing. In other words, when considering the inseparability of faith and works for Augustine, the emphasis is on the working. Isn’t this what John’s choice to almost exclusively use the verb “believe” suggests as well? Faith isn’t a possession but an impetus or orientation to work the good.
While evangelicals tend to interpret these statements about “eating the manna”, “eating the meat”, “eating the bread”, “eating my flesh”, and “drinking blood” all as metaphors for the same invisible, spiritual act of “believing on him”, the third clarification Augustine makes is to identify the real referents. The “bread”, “manna”, and “meat” are symbols for Christ’s person, and “believing” represents “eating” more than “eating” represents “believing”:
For to believe on Him is to eat the living bread. He that believes eats; he is sated invisibly, because invisibly is he born again (Tractate 26.1).
We note that while “believing” is clearly equated with “eating”, Augustine defines “believing” in a way that conforms with the realities of eating. We partake of Jesus and are “sated” by his sufficiency.
Fourth, while evangelicals see the believing as something that happens on the inside, in the invisible places, and thereby draw support for the idea that the invisible is the chief part of man while the outside flesh is destined for flames, Augustine teaches the goodness of Christ’s flesh:
O Lord, good Master, in what way does the flesh profit nothing, whilst Thou hast said, “Except a man eat my flesh, and drink my blood, he shall not have life in him?” Or does life profit nothing? And why are we what we are, but that we may have eternal life, which Thou dost promise by Thy flesh? Then what means “the flesh profiteth nothing”? It profiteth nothing, but only in the manner in which they understood it. They indeed understood the flesh, just as when cut to pieces in a carcass, or sold in the shambles; not as when it is quickened by the Spirit. Wherefore it is said that “the flesh profiteth nothing,” in the same manner as it is said that “knowledge puffeth up.” Then, ought we at once to hate knowledge? Far from it! And what means “Knowledge puffeth up”? Knowledge alone, without charity. Therefore he added, “but charity edifieth.” Therefore add thou to knowledge charity, and knowledge will be profitable, not by itself, but through charity. So also here, “the flesh profiteth nothing,” only when alone. Let the Spirit be added to the flesh, as charity is added to knowledge, and it profiteth very much. For if the flesh profiled nothing, the Word would not be made flesh to dwell among us. (Tractate 27.5)
These reflections seem to be happening in the presence of an impending Eucharist, and since the bread and wine are tangible as flesh is tangible, and since Paul has said “the flesh profiteth nothing,” Augustine wishes to explain how the elements profit the Christian. His basic point is that the flesh is redeemed by Christ. What was once unprofitable is now profitable. Indeed, Christ took on flesh to be profitable. In light of such assertions, it is difficult to imagine that Augustine’s recipients would have failed to associate the Eucharistic elements (Christ taking on flesh) with the incarnation (Christ taking on flesh) or draw any other conclusion than that the Eucharist is redeemed flesh, indeed, the impartation of Christ’s body.
Fifth, whereas evangelicals tend to think of the Eucharist as a private moment between God and the believer, Augustine clarifies that eating his flesh has to do with unity in the body. It is therefore a communal act.
But in this food and drink, that is, in the body and blood of the Lord . . . he that doth take it hath life, and that indeed eternal life. And thus He would have this meat and drink to be understood as meaning the fellowship of His own body and members, which is the holy Church in his . . . saints and believers. . . . The sacrament of this thing, namely, of the unity of the body and blood of Christ, is prepared on the Lord’s table in some places daily, in some places at certain intervals of days, and from the Lord’s table it is taken, by some to life, by some to destruction (Tractate 26.15)
We are made better by participation of the Son, through the unity of His body and blood, which thing that eating and drinking signifies. We live then by Him, by eating Him; that is, by receiving Himself as the eternal life (Tractate 26.19)
Nor does the Spirit make any members to be living except such as it finds in the body, which also the Spirit itself quickens. For the Spirit which is in thee, O man, by which it consists that thou art a man, does it quicken a member which it finds separated from thy flesh? I call thy soul thy spirit. Thy soul quickeneth only the members which are in thy flesh; if thou takest one away, it is no longer quickened by thy soul, because it is not joined to the unity of thy body. These things are said to make us love unity and fear separation. For there is nothing that a Christian ought to dread so much as to be separated from Christ’s body. For if he is separated from Christ’s body, he is not a member of Christ; if he is not a member of Christ, he is not quickened by the Spirit of Christ. (Tractate 27.6)
The Eucharist as Body or Pointer?
Now when such texts are read, a pertinent question arises as to whether Augustine thinks John 6 is referencing the Eucharist (i.e., its act or its elements) or an invisible reality to which the Eucharist points. The idea behind the question seems to be that if the important aspect here is a spiritual reality behind the Eucharist, then the Eucharist itself is relativized as a potentially disposable form. There is no need to do it right or to understand it right. There may not even be a need to do it because “eating his flesh” and “drinking his blood” are merely metaphors that point to a greater, deeper, all-sufficient reality—our true need. And, evangelicals would claim, that reality may be apprehended through faith.
There is a reason, however, why it is not so obvious whether the language Augustine uses may be clearly tied to the Eucharist or to Christ, and that reason is that they are intimately and inseparably connected. The Eucharist, for Augustine, is the very act of unity between Christ and his people. By eating, one is placed into contact with that higher, invisible reality. It is therefore not optional. But is it uniquely able to do what it does?
Augustine is a helpful conversation partner, but we are ultimately after how John views the Eucharist. We’ve already seen that John 6 makes the “eating the flesh” and “drinking the blood” mandatory for eternal life, and clearly he’s talking an appropriation of Christ person, but how? Is it through the taking of the Eucharist, or is John 6 really about the invisible act of believing?
The Highest Role of the Highest Symbols
Let us reflect upon all the possible ways Christ might impart his divine life in the standard repertoire of Christian experience. Does any option represent the impartation of divine life so clearly, symbolically, or fittingly as the Eucharist? Doesn’t the act of consuming perfectly illustrate taking on the divine life and it becoming a part of you? Has any other act been instituted for the same purpose? And if no other way surpasses it, why should we assume that the Eucharistic rite isn’t the primary vehicle through which God wishes to transmit his life and secure his Church’s unity? Why should we think that “believing” gives us access to the same graces, in the same way, or with the same potency? And what makes us think that Johannine “believing” may be defined outside the scope of “eating”?
Avoiding or downplaying the highest instituted symbol of union in the mistaken hope for other pathways is not a sensible, let alone strategic, approach. Most marital counselors know that, generally speaking, it would be inadvisable and counterproductive to counsel a struggling couple to deepen their intimacy and communion using any means except conversation and conjugality. We cannot discount the most obvious and ordained means for achieving union (i.e., those which symbolize and strengthen it) without the natural consequence of greater drift, misalignment, and listlessness. What sense does it make to trade what traditionally and acutely symbolized and strengthened union for ways that do not?
Imparting Divine Life: Through Eucharist or Through Believing?
What compelling reason exists to doubt that Christ would impart, and desire to impart, his divine life most fully through a sacramental act he instituted which beautifully symbolizes and strengthens the transferal of that divine life and the unity to be found there?
But this is what happens. Evangelicals interpret these statements about “eating the manna”, “eating the bread”, “eating the meat”, “eating my flesh”, and “drinking blood” all as metaphors for an invisible, spiritual act of “believing”. Faith is seen as the key, the doorway to eternal life. After all, John himself says, “whosoever believes will not perish but have eternal life” (3.16).
Evangelicals also reckon “believing” not as a partial condition but as the sole condition for eternal life. After all, “the work of God is this: to believe in the one He sent.” And, “Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day” (John 6:54, ESV).
The problem, however, is that “believing” must be defined historically and linguistically rather than through the cultural lens of English American revivalism. And John 6 does not indicate what type of condition we have in play. More than one condition (e.g., faith and Eucharist) may be necessary without compromising the truth that any one of them (e.g., faith) is necessary. Indeed, to entertain, just for a moment, that “believing” may either be substantively different from “eating his flesh and drinking his blood” or that believing might entail it, we would be much closer to the specific argument (i.e., you must eat of my flesh for life) that Jesus emphasizes in this pericope.
Theological (Dis)Integration
Let’s chase this out. If, as (most) Protestants do, “believing” (in the sense of intellectual assent) is made the single and sole criterion for salvation, and if we take this in the (typical) Protestant sense of denying the salvific role of specific works of faith, we are presented with a conundrum no matter which way we go.
On the one hand, if “faith alone” and “eat my flesh” don’t represent the same act, they cannot both be true at the same time. Either the one (viz., “if we do not eat and drink his body and blood, we have no life”) is true, or the other (viz., “believing is the sole requirement for eternal life”) is true, but both cannot be true because one cannot be simultaneously saved by faith alone while damned by refusing to “eat and drink the body and blood”.
On the other hand, if “believing” and “eating and drinking” do represent the same salvific act, and the salvific importance of these two things are not diametrically opposed to one another (as all who value the veracity of Scripture presuppose), things get a bit awkward for the Protestant. Why do we think it makes more sense to do away with the tangible act of “eating and drinking” in favor of the invisible act of believing rather than the reverse? Wouldn’t the tangible act presuppose the invisible act and so take on narrative priority? Or why shouldn’t we see these things as complements and conclude that the act of believing must include “eating and drinking”? Aren’t Protestant dogmatic distinctives (not Scripture itself) responsible for denying what would naturally be a complementarian understanding? Isn’t it Protestant interpretation (and not Scripture itself) to blame for introducing this conundrum?
Now, as we’ve seen, many interpreters equate Johannine “believing” with “eating his flesh” and “drinking his blood”, but the tangible acts of “eating flesh” that is “real food” (v. 55) and “drinking blood” that is “real drink” do not seem compatible with an invisible act of believing in Christ. This suggest, if the equation holds, that the way to understand “believing” must orient around “eating” and “drinking” rather than the reverse.
Certainly, the Eucharist historically, theologically, and symbolically suggests itself to be the ordained opportunity to “eat my flesh” (i.e., “this is my body”) and “drink my blood” (i.e., “this is my blood”). Moreover, we know the Eucharist refers to Christ’s bodily crucifixion and bodily resurrection (“you proclaim the Lord’s death” and the profession of his resurrection is implicit in “until he comes” in 1 Cor. 11.26)—both experiences to Christ’s body. John refers the actions of “eating his flesh” and “drinking his blood” to yielding our future bodily resurrection (v. 54). Since the Eucharist pertains to our participation in Christ, to see the Eucharist in John 6 fits very nicely because John would be appealing to a bodily practice (i.e., the Eucharist) where we announce and are united with the body that was crucified and resurrected. All bodily analogues are present: the past bodily activity of Christ and the future resurrection of our bodies have a bodily analogue in the present. Indeed, it is a unification of bodies in the present.
If, on the other hand, the bodily imagery of “eating my flesh” and “drinking my blood” in John 6 refers not to the Eucharist but to the invisible act of believing, unsatisfying theological disintegration occurs. The invisible act of believing and our future bodily resurrection that is associated with it become divorced from the rest of the participation context. First, this reality lacks a bodily analogue in the past, for Christ’s bodily crucifixion and bodily resurrection belong to the Eucharist instead (which we have precluded). Second, this reality also lacks a bodily mechanism to connect our bodies to Christ’s body and our bodily resurrection to his bodily resurrection in the present, for to the Eucharist belongs the sacrament of participation. Baptism is seen to fill this role (cf. Rom. 6.3-5). Its initial role cannot be denied, but it is a past event in the Christian life, and God bestows the divine life in a progressive series of moments, not all at once, so we still lack a progressive symbol of present unity and mechanism to achieve it in our present. Finally, this bifurcated reality dooms the poor Specter of the Eucharist to roam awkwardly disconnected from our future bodily resurrection, which instead belongs to the invisible act of believing of John 6. As a reminder, the Protestant cannot say, “well, the actual practice of the Eucharist is the physical representation of that invisible act of believing” because, at this point in the argument, we have presupposed otherwise.
Now, to escape the awkwardness and inconsistency of the earlier conundrum, sola fide positions (which is most of Protestantism) are prone to make both the invisible act of believing in John 6 and the Eucharist point separately and largely independently toward some common, higher, spiritual participation in Christ. Such a view does not much value the historical referent of John 6 (for its original audience) nor does it appreciate the theological elegance of a Eucharist that integrates past, present, and future dimensions of bodily participation in Christ. Since the Eucharist pertains to the unity between believer and Christ, to preclude from this union any temporal dimension (in this case our future bodily resurrection) highlights the probability of failed integration.
Translation Possibilities: Re-reading John 6
This is not entirely the English-speaking Christian’s fault. There are grammatical considerations in play that seem to make Protestant distinctives more credible and therefore contribute to the confusion. I am now targeting our translations (and interpretations based upon them). The typical English reader does not realize that phrases like πιστεύων εἰς αὐτὸν (rendered “believe in him” by most translations) in John 6.40 do not necessarily mean what English-speakers typically think they mean.
The phrase in John 6.40 could instead be rendered “be faithful to him”. It could also be rendered “believe in it”, where the it isn’t Christ per se but the Johannine assertion that Christ is the bread of life. Indeed, in this passage, we have a two-part message: one must “look on” (θεωρῶ) the Son and one must πιστεύων εἰς αὐτὸν. Before we draw any conclusions about the sense of πιστεύων εἰς αὐτὸν, we need to interpret “seeing” or “look on”.
Many modern interpreters deem the “seeing” (θεωρῶ) as something trivial and insignificant—Jesus merely getting our attention (getting one’s attention is an obvious prerequisite for believing). And Protestants are more likely to skim right over this word because of the (theological) emphasis they place upon believing. But if we pause and consider the possibility that Jesus might not be using a throw-away or repetitious phrase here, we might have a θεωρῶ-event ourselves.
The term θεωρῶ enjoys a spectrum of meaning involving various levels of engagement. Indeed, a more substantial “perception” or “experience” (than merely attention-grabbing) may be in view here, like the woman at the well who “perceived” (θεωρῶ) that Jesus was a prophet (John 4.19), or Jesus’ claim that one “perceives” (θεωρῶ) the Father when one sees the Son (John 12.45), or John’s claim that the keeper of Jesus’ word will never “experience” (θεωρῶ) everlasting death (John 8.51). This “perception” or “experience” is demonstrably within the semantic range of the Greek term and even John’s use of it. The only question is whether Jesus (or John) is using a linguistic phenomenon (say, a colloquialism or hendiadys) that may be disregarded—whether he is talking about one experience or two.
If two, the idea would be that one must “perceive” or “experience” who Jesus is. This might resemble the experience evangelicals typically associate with “believing”. But Jesus would also be saying that such an experience demands a particular response, namely, πιστεύων εἰς αὐτὸν, being faithful to him. The Eucharist then, as a concrete form of faithfulness (namely, the full acceptance of what Jesus is saying about his person, our access to that person, and our trust in the concomitant promise), would suddenly fit quite naturally into this narrative.
Could that be John’s point? This was certainly anticipated at the beginning of our passage. Jesus tells the crowds that their motivations for following him are insufficient. Evidently, they had done more than merely “see” him. They had also “followed” him, but they had not followed him for the intended reasons. They had followed because he fed them. But Jesus wanted them to respond to the signs (6.26), which pointed to a much deeper perception of who he is.
The meaning of πιστεύων εἰς αὐτὸν in v. 40, however, must also work in v. 29, which has the almost identical phrase (viz., πιστεύητε εἰς ὃν). Most translations render Jesus’ words in v. 29 as “this is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” This translation assumes that Jesus’ response is a genuine and full answer to a genuine question raised by the crowds in v. 28, namely, “What must we do to do the works God requires?” Those who wish to emphasize the preeminence and sole criterion of “believing” are more likely to take it in this way, and in this vein, it is important to recognize that the post-Reformation history of English Bible translation has been dominated by Protestants with Protestant concerns (and therefore biases). These concerns have not tended to give a fair shake to Catholic alternative interpretations.
It is not difficult, however, to construe what is happening in John 6.29 differently. After all, ἀποκρίνομαι (“answer”) does not mean that the answerer’s answer will be relevant to the question. In fact, two verses earlier we find an answer clearly unrelated to the question: “Rabbi, when did You get here?” (v. 25), answered by, “You are seeking me . . . because you ate your fill” (v. 26). Jesus here ignores the crowd’s question to re-focus them upon the topic of his concern. If Jesus does this once, he may do it again, and our two interpretations hinge upon how relevant his next answer is to their next question: “What must we do, to be doing the works of God?” (v. 28, ESV).
Now, if we assume the answer in v. 29 is directly relevant to the question in v. 28, the Greek grammar (τοῦτό ἐστιν τὸ ἔργον τοῦ θεοῦ, ἵνα πιστεύητε εἰς ὃν ἀπέστειλεν ἐκεῖνος) will typically be construed with the following textual decisions: (1) τοῦτό anticipates the answer, (2) genitive τοῦ θεοῦ is taken somewhat strangely as “the work God requires”, (3) the ἵνα is denied its typical and natural explanatory force and is treated as an ascensive καί (“namely”), (4) πιστεύητε εἰς means “believe in”, and (5) ἐκεῖνος and ὃν refer to Christ.
The English reader, however, might be surprised to learn that none of these grammatical decisions are necessary. Indeed, the second and third are a bit awkward. We might opt for decisions in support of a different reading: (1) τοῦτό refers to what Jesus had just asserted in v. 27, (2) τοῦ θεοῦ would fulfill its normal possessive sense (i.e., subjective genitive), (3) ἵνα would take on its typical and natural explanatory function, and (4) πιστεύητε εἰς means “be faithful to”. When comparing the dominant English-speaking, Protestant narrative and the one I’m suggesting, the different decisions on (1) and (4) are equally natural, but in this alternative narrative, decisions (2) and (3) reflect more natural ways to construe the grammar. Let’s translate with this new sense:
[Jesus said] ‘Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has placed his seal of approval.’
They [the crowds] replied, ‘What must we do in order to do the works of God?’
Jesus answered, ‘This is God’s work, [not yours,] in order that you might become faithful to the one he sent.”
The animus of this construal is that Jesus’ response doesn’t (yet) fully answer the crowds’ question (although he will: you must eat of my flesh). Early interpreters similarly construed various discontinuities between Jesus’ and the crowds’ verbal interplay. For example, according to Cyril of Alexandria, v. 29 is a challenge to the “senselessness” of Jesus’ questioners: “The Lord most vehemently attacks the senselessness of the questioners, though still secretly and obscurely. Now someone might suppose, as far as the simplest sense of the statement is concerned, that Jesus is giving them no other command than that they should believe in him. When one examines the sense of the words, however, one will see that they refer to something else since he was fashioning his discussion of these matters exceedingly well, fitting it to the senselessness of the questioners” (Cyril of Alexandria, Comm. Jn. s.v. 6.29, translation from Commentary on John, Ancient Christian Texts, 1.202). Or Chrysostom comments on our text, “Kindness and gentleness are not helpful on all occasions, but there is a time when the teacher has need of greater severity. When the pupil is lazy and phlegmatic, it is necessary to use a goad to prod such great sluggishness. This even the Son of God has done time and again, and especially in today’s text” (Hom. Jn. 44, translation from Commentary on Saint John the Apostle and Evangelist: Homilies 1–47, Fathers of the Church, 442).
The crowd asks in v. 28, “what must we do to do the works of God?” I have construed the crowd’s question as missing the mark in the direction of a self-focus (“what must we do?”). Cyril of Alexandria recognized misdirection and attributed it to a crowd who “thought that they had sufficient learning from the law for how to do works that are pleasing to God” (Comm. Jn. s.v. 6.29, Commentary on John, Ancient Christian Texts, 1.202).
In either case, Jesus has to clarify the assertion he made in v. 27. It was not they but the Father who initiated the necessary work: who gave his Son and ratified him (via miraculous signs) as the one who gives food that endures into eternal life. The Father does this for a reason—in order that people might πιστεύητε εἰς ὃν (“be faithful to him [the Son]”).
Whatever Greek textual decisions are made, the main point is that interpretive frameworks exist wherein no conflict exists between “believing” (or “being faithful”) and “eating my flesh”. Rather, the Eucharist becomes the specific representation of faithfulness in solidarity with his resurrection (v. 39) and in the unity of Christ’s body (v. 56). These frameworks also existed in the early period. For example, of the “belief” in this passage, Origen said, “Those . . . who believe in him are those who travel the narrow and strait way which leads to life, so far as it is found by the few” (Comm. Jn. 10.311, translation from Ronald E. Heine, Origen: Commentary on the Gospel According to John, Fathers of the Church 80, 1.325). “Belief” is not a once-for-all event or action. It is a way of life. It is following Jesus. It is faithfulness to him.
However we reconstruct the details of the dialogue between Jesus and the crowds, the typical Protestant reading of John 6 is strongly reinforced by a distorting emphasis placed upon “believing” and making that “belief” the sole criterion for what God would have his people do. This leads to an anti-Johannine contrastive view of “believing” and “Eucharist”, which affects all grammatical decision-making. Consequently, it is easy to miss or downplay references to the Eucharist as well as the paradigm that Jesus is commending, namely, where the faithful eat and drink together unto salvation. For the sake of unity, let the evangelical revisit the basis for his assumptions.
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