True Food, True Drink

My flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. (John 6:55–56)

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Upon reading these words, we may always feel the urge to interpret them metaphorically or otherworldly—the Lord’s body is true food, but surely not as true as fried eggs and bacon, or cereal with blueberries and yogurt. As stated in theology textbooks, the Lord’s body and blood, which we receive at Eucharist, is food and drink that will elevate us spiritually toward eternal life. But in John 6:55, Christ tells us that this humble body of ours, with which we chew, swallow and digest food, is where the Lord encounters us and feeds us. In this sense, the Lord's body and blood is as true as the hash brown on our plates and coffee in our cups.

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Christ tells us that this humble body of ours, with which we chew, swallow and digest food, is where the Lord encounters us and feeds us. In this sense, the Lord's body and blood is as true as the hash brown on our plates and coffee in our cups.

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If this reading of John 6:55 might sound provocative to us, its modern readers, it was much more so to the intellectuals in the early centuries of Christianity, when Platonic philosophy prevailed. Celsius, a Platonist in the second century, was scandalized by the Christian belief that God assumed a body that would consume food like everyone else. Instead, he thought, the human spirit should ascend to the pure spiritual domain of God, while “the body should be thrown away like dung.” Celsius was not alone. In an eighteenth-century Chinese document, I encountered this line: “Once the precious soul leaves, the body is left behind like a stinky skin bag.” In contrast, while most early church fathers were Platonists who were convinced that the soul is superior to the body, they affirmed that God assumed a real human body in the act of incarnation, and that God took his body back in his resurrection. As intellectuals who were heavily influenced by Platonism, the church fathers must have been shocked by God’s humility—rather than lifting the human soul to lofty spiritual realms, God meets human beings where they are, even in their frail, mortal bodies subject to illness, decay and death. Moreover, God offered human beings true food and true drink, so that they would be nourished and grow into eternal life—body and soul alike. Saint Gregory of Nyssa, who was known to be a Platonist “through and through” amongst some patristic scholars, highlighted the privilege of having a body: compared to the souls in purgatory, who are now deprived of their bodies, human beings in this life have access to the grace of God through sacraments, especially the food and drink in the Eucharist. Compared to the cleansing fires of purgatory, Gregory writes, the Eucharist offers a gentler path!

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When we reflect on the Eucharist as true food and drink, we may find some shocking similarities between the heavenly food and drink bestowed by God at Eucharist and the eggs, bacon, bread and coffee prepared by a family member at breakfast. Just as we prepare the best meals for loved ones, our Lord prepares food for his friends with utmost love. Just like food nourishes the wealthy and the destitute, the privileged, and the unprivileged alike, heavenly sustenance is indiscriminate. Just like dining together strengthens the bond between family and friends often in an unnoticeable manner, dining at the Lord’s table silently strengthens communal bonds in the body of Christ—the Church. What resonates perhaps most deeply for me, even on the days when I do not feel particularly lofty and spiritual, I’m nevertheless invited at the Lord’s table, and the love and grace of God is still accessible in the humble form of food and drink.

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Just as we prepare the best meals for loved ones, our Lord prepares food for his friends with utmost love.

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Finally, as creatures who eat and drink every day, let us not forget that food and drink are transformative—the process may be gradual and subtle, but it is real. As what we eat and drink becomes us, our body and spirit also become what we ingest. So the Lord told us: “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” By participating in the Eucharist, we invite the Lord inviting him to dwell in us and among us, and transform us into his life. Not only is the Eucharist spiritual nourishment in our spiritual journey toward heaven, writes Origen, an early Christian theologian, in reply to Celsius, can be transformed into a palace, where the Lord dwells.