In another eighty years, the Christians would be accused of cannibalism.
There are still questions about this practice. During our drive to the Tubing Outing, the student sitting in the front seat struck up a conversation about transubstantiation and consubstantiation. (Roman Catholic theology speaks of the substance of the bread being transformed; Protestants tend to consider it still bread but when combined with the Word it is Christ's body for us.)
This is the mystery of the sacrament. There are many worthy discussions of these topics and I encourage you to acquaint yourself with them. This is not the place for us to delve into such arguments.
For the sake of devotion, what I want to lift up from John 6 is the acknowledgement that we do receive the body of Christ. How it happens; how theology explains its happening; nothing matters as much as us believing it happens. Jesus does not come among us as some wise teacher; even to refer to him as a "divinely inspired teacher" does not give full meaning to his presence. In him, we take into ourselves the very presence of God.
Luther insisted (and some of continue to agree) that doubt robs us of the assurance that Christ has taken notice of us. We worry that we haven't sufficiently confessed or repented or shown our commitment. Christ's body is given, for us to eat, every time we come to the altar. We ought to be prepared for this gift, but even if we are not, Christ is still there, coming to us.
I might take a different bend to that 52nd verse. "How can this man" do this? How can Jesus die for us, even when are not ready to receive? How can Jesus love us, even as we abandon him and condemn him to death? I don't know. But I have been taught (and will continue to teach) that this is what happens. That Christ comes to me, whether I am fully prepared or not.
"Take and eat. This is my body; this is my blood." It is the assurance that Christ comes to me, even when I fail to go to him.
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