Fr Marco Lazzaron
Remember the journey”, says the first Reading. Remember! Remember the desert and the mountain, the wind along the paths, and then the manna that fell suddenly, when you no longer expected it. Remember your desert, but above all, remember the water that came in the form of an answer, a beautiful love, a friend, a piece of music. Sudden openings in the rock have appeared to tell you that you are not alone, that you are not lost among the dunes of the desert.
God is water and bread on the way to meet your hunger. My strength is knowing I am sought, even with my distracted life and the answers I do not give; knowing I am desired is all my peace. Remember the journey: engage in dialogue with the story of your life, remain at your clear spring.
Today, the Gospel has only eight verses, and Jesus repeats eight times: Whoever eats my flesh will live forever. Almost like an enchanting rhythm, a divine monotony, in the style of John, who moves in concentric and ascending circles, like a spiral; like a stone thrown into water, where you see the ripples spreading ever wider. It is Jesus’ most disruptive discourse: eat my flesh and drink my blood. An invitation that unsettles friends and foes alike, and He stubbornly reiterates, eight times, as if in eight circles, the motivation—always clearer and more direct: to live, to truly live.
Living is one thing; letting oneself live is another. It is Jesus’ pressing conviction that He possesses something that changes the direction and the quality of life. It is God’s gift: it is God giving Himself and losing Himself within His creatures, like yeast in a loaf of bread.
“Flesh, blood, bread from heaven” indicate the totality of His human and divine journey—His carpenter’s hands with the scent of wood, His tears, His passions, the dust of the streets, the house filled with fragrance, the stone rolling away. A piece of God in me so that I may save a little piece of God in the world.
His pressing invitation means: eat and drink every drop and every part of me. Take my life as the highest measure of living, as the yeast of your bread, the seed of your field, the blood in your veins—then you will know what it truly means to live. Eating and drinking Christ means more than simply “taking Communion”; it is “making communion with Him.”
“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” so that we can become like him, so that our flesh may become like His.