Spirit Gives Life, Flesh Counts for Nothing: Ferris Misreads John 6

📖 Series: Responding to Ferris (How to Be Christian)

🥖 Part 1 – The Bread of Life & John 6

Metaphorical Musings: Analyzing Ferris’ Approach to John 6 in “How to Be Christian”
An introduction to Ferris’s Eucharistic claims and flawed metaphoric reasoning.
The Logic of Life: Faith, Not Flesh, in John 6
Why John 6 centers on believing, not consuming—a breakdown of the internal logic.
Why Eating Jesus Means Believing: A Biblical Answer to Ferris
Biblical metaphors explained and applied to the Bread of Life discourse.
Spirit Gives Life, Flesh Counts for Nothing: Ferris Misreads John 6
Exegetical refutation of Ferris’s claim that John 6 affirms transubstantiation.
Unraveling Ferris: The Structure of John 6 in the Greater Narrative of the Gospel of John
A narrative-critical analysis that undermines Eucharistic literalism.
Spirit Gives Life, Flesh Counts for Nothing (Part 2): Ferris Misreads John 6 Again
Additional theological and lexical critiques of Ferris’s misreadings.
Analysis of Ferris’s Eucharistic Interpretation: Challenges and Inconsistencies
Final installment on doctrinal problems and exegetical breakdowns in Ferris’s interpretation.

📜 Part 2 – Romans and the Doctrine of Justification

Responding to How2BeChristian on Romans 4
A defense of sola fide and imputed righteousness against Ferris’s anti-Protestant reading.
How Not to Read Romans: A Response to Ferris (“How to Be Christian”)
A systematic rebuttal to Ferris’s handling of Pauline theology and justification.

1. Understanding Typology in Scripture

Typology is a significant method of interpreting Scripture, wherein events, persons, or institutions in the Old Testament are seen as foreshadowing a greater reality fulfilled in the New Testament. The Passover lamb is one such example. While the lambs used during the original Passover were literal, they were not an end in themselves. Instead, they pointed forward to the ultimate Passover sacrifice—Jesus Christ. As with many Old Testament types, the fulfillment transcends the type in both significance and scope.

Scriptural Basis for Typology:
One of the clearest passages connecting the Passover lamb to Jesus is found in the New Testament, where John the Baptist identifies Jesus as “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). This identification shows a direct link between the Passover lamb, which provided deliverance from physical death in Egypt, and Christ, whose sacrificial death provides deliverance from spiritual death.
Fulfillment in Christ:
The Apostle Paul also explicitly links Christ to the Passover lamb in 1 Corinthians 5:7, where he states, “For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed.” Paul understood the historical significance of the Passover but interpreted it as a shadow of the greater reality found in Christ.

Addressing Ferris’s Argument on Literal Bread, Wine, and Lamb

Ferris emphasizes that the bread and wine at the Lord’s Supper, like the lambs during the original Passover, are literal. He argues that this undermines the idea that Christ can be seen as the Passover Lamb unless He is understood in a purely literal sense. This view, however, misses the deeper theological framework of typology.

Typology and Literalism:
While it is true that the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper are literal, just as the lambs in the Passover were literal, the purpose of typology is not to insist on a one-to-one literal correlation. Instead, typology allows for the literal elements in Old Testament ceremonies to foreshadow a deeper, more profound fulfillment in Christ. In the case of the Passover, the lambs sacrificed were real, but they pointed beyond themselves to the greater sacrifice of Christ, the true Lamb of God, who would take away the sins of the world.
The Bread and Wine in Typological Context:
Similarly, the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper are not merely literal elements—they carry deep symbolic significance. The bread, symbolizing Christ’s body, and the wine, symbolizing His blood, point beyond the physical elements to the ultimate sacrifice that Christ would make on the cross. Ferris’s emphasis on the literal nature of these elements misses the rich typological meaning that connects the Lord’s Supper to both the Passover and the cross.

Thus, while Ferris is correct in stating that the bread, wine, and lamb are literal, this does not undermine the typological framework that Scripture uses. In fact, the typology strengthens the connection between the physical reality of the Old Testament and the spiritual fulfillment in the New Testament, particularly in Christ’s redemptive work.

2. The Limits of Literalism:

Ferris’s argument hinges on the idea that because literal lambs were used during the Passover, Jesus must also be understood in a purely literal sense as the Passover Lamb, and therefore the symbolic interpretation is invalid. Ferris seems to argue that if the lambs were literal in the Old Testament context, then Jesus being called the Lamb of God must be similarly literal in all respects. This line of reasoning, however, fails to account for the broader biblical framework of typology and the use of symbolism in Scripture.

Literalism and Symbolism in Biblical Theology:

While the lambs used in the Passover were indeed literal, biblical theology often works through both literal and symbolic meanings, where literal events are signs pointing to greater spiritual realities. The lambs in the Passover provided immediate physical salvation from death during the Exodus, but they also symbolized a future, greater salvation through Christ.

Ferris’s Misunderstanding of Typology:
By focusing exclusively on the literal aspect of the lambs, Ferris overlooks how typology functions in Scripture. The physical lambs used in the Passover were part of a typological system in which the event itself pointed forward to a more significant reality—Jesus Christ, the ultimate Lamb of God. Christ’s sacrifice does not need to be literal in the same way as the Passover lambs to fulfill their deeper meaning.
Jesus as the Fulfillment of the Passover Lamb:
The typology of the Passover lamb finds its fulfillment in Christ. Though Jesus did not literally become a lamb, His sacrificial death on the cross is the ultimate fulfillment of what the Passover lamb represented. Just as the blood of the Passover lambs protected the Israelites from death, Christ’s blood provides eternal protection from spiritual death for all who believe in Him.

Symbolism in the Lord’s Supper:

Ferris’s argument also extends to the Lord’s Supper, where he emphasizes that the bread and wine are literal, suggesting that this diminishes the symbolic meaning behind these elements. However, just as the lambs in the Passover held both literal and symbolic significance, the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper serve as tangible elements that point to a deeper spiritual reality.

Literal Bread and Wine with Symbolic Meaning:
While the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper are literal, they carry rich symbolic meaning. The bread represents Christ’s body, and the wine represents His blood, signifying the New Covenant established through His death. The physical act of eating and drinking is a reminder of the spiritual nourishment believers receive through Christ’s sacrifice.

In conclusion, Ferris’s focus on literalism fails to grasp the depth of biblical symbolism and typology. The literal lambs of the Passover and the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper are meaningful not simply because they are literal but because they point to greater spiritual truths fulfilled in Christ.

3. The Lord’s Supper, John 6, and Symbolic Meaning:

Ferris correctly points out that the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper are literal, but this does not conflict with the argument that John 6 and the Lord’s Supper share the same theological imagery. The pastors Ferris critiques likely emphasize the symbolic depth of these elements rather than denying their physical presence. The connection between the literal bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper and the spiritual significance of Christ’s body and blood is central to understanding the biblical symbolism at work.

Shared Imagery and Symbolism:

The bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper, while literal, are rich with symbolic meaning that parallels Jesus’ discourse in John 6. In John 6, Jesus refers to Himself as the “bread of life” (John 6:35) and speaks of the necessity of eating His flesh and drinking His blood (John 6:53-56). These statements, while shocking to His original audience, are understood by many theologians as pointing forward to the Eucharist. The metaphor of eating and drinking conveys the need for believers to partake in Christ spiritually, receiving Him by faith as the source of eternal life (John 6:47-48).

Augustine’s Interpretation:

Augustine famously commented on John 6, saying, “Believe, and you have eaten.” This interpretation shows that the imagery of eating and drinking is not purely literal but symbolic of faith’s reception of Christ. This understanding is consistent with the Last Supper, where Jesus takes bread and wine—literal food—and declares, “This is my body” and “This is my blood” (Luke 22:19-20). The literal food represents His sacrifice, but the act of partaking involves both a physical and spiritual dimension. Through faith, believers receive the spiritual benefits of Christ’s sacrifice, made present through the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper.

Symbolism in Jewish Ceremonies:

Throughout the Old Testament, literal objects in Jewish rituals carry symbolic significance. The Passover lamb is an example of this dual symbolism. The lamb was a real, literal animal sacrificed for the Israelites, yet its significance was spiritual—it represented God’s deliverance of Israel from slavery and the sparing of the firstborn during the final plague (Exodus 12:7, 12-13). The Passover meal commemorated this event, but it also pointed forward to the ultimate Lamb, Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 5:7).

The Day of Atonement (Leviticus 16):
This Jewish ceremony also featured literal sacrifices with profound symbolic meanings. The high priest would lay hands on a literal goat, confessing the sins of the people, before sending it into the wilderness as a symbolic act of removing the sins of the nation. The shedding of blood by the sacrificial animals signified atonement, but the ultimate fulfillment came in Christ’s death on the cross, the true sacrifice for sin (Hebrews 10:1-4).

John 6 and the Lord’s Supper:

Jesus’ statements in John 6 about eating His flesh and drinking His blood may be metaphorical, but they are not unrelated to the Eucharist. Many scholars and theologians argue that John 6 anticipates the Last Supper and the institution of the Eucharist. The connection is not in the mere physical act of eating bread and drinking wine, but in the spiritual reality that these acts symbolize: Christ’s body broken for us and His blood shed for the forgiveness of sins.

Union with Christ through Faith:
The imagery of eating and drinking in John 6 symbolizes the believer’s union with Christ through faith. This union is made tangible in the Lord’s Supper, where the bread and wine, though physical, convey the reality of Christ’s sacrifice. As John Calvin wrote, the Lord’s Supper is a “visible word,” where the physical elements of bread and wine signify the spiritual reality of communion with Christ. The bread and wine are not just literal food and drink but become powerful symbols of Christ’s redemptive work.

In conclusion, the shared theological imagery between John 6 and the Lord’s Supper should not be reduced to a simplistic literalism. The bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper carry a profound symbolic meaning that points to Christ’s sacrifice, just as the Passover lamb did in the Old Testament.

One important philosophical issue to address when critiquing Ferris’s argument is the concept of underdetermination. In the context of Ferris’s emphasis on the literal nature of the bread and wine, underdetermination reveals a lack of sufficient explanation for why his view should be separated from others, such as cannibalism, real presence (Catholic transubstantiation), or Lutheran consubstantiation.

Underdetermination Explained:

Underdetermination refers to the idea that the available evidence may be insufficient to definitively support one interpretation over others. In Ferris’s case, his insistence on the literal nature of the bread and wine leaves open the possibility of multiple, conflicting interpretations, such as the idea that the bread and wine transform into Christ’s physical body and blood, which could lead to accusations of cannibalism. This was a criticism many early opponents of Christianity raised due to a literal reading of Jesus’ statements in John 6.

Ferris’s approach seems to focus on literalism but doesn’t clarify how his view avoids leading to these other problematic interpretations. This is where underdetermination becomes crucial—without further qualification, his argument could easily be grouped with other theological perspectives he may not support, such as Catholic transubstantiation or Lutheran consubstantiation, both of which claim a literal or real presence of Christ in the Eucharist.

Separation from Cannibalism and Real Presence:

Without addressing underdetermination, Ferris’s emphasis on the literal presence of Christ in the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper opens up a slippery slope toward the belief that the bread and wine undergo a literal transformation, as in Catholic transubstantiation. In this view, the substance of the bread and wine change into the actual body and blood of Christ, though the accidents (taste, appearance) remain the same. Similarly, Lutheran consubstantiation holds that Christ’s body and blood are present “in, with, and under” the bread and wine, yet Ferris does not clarify if he rejects these positions or simply avoids addressing them.

Furthermore, Ferris’s focus on the literal elements without providing a distinction from these views leaves his interpretation open to accusations of cannibalism. Early critics of Christianity often misunderstood the Lord’s Supper as advocating for the literal consumption of human flesh, and Ferris’s lack of differentiation from these ideas does not protect his argument from this critique.

Differentiation through Symbolic Meaning:

The key to separating Ferris’s view from these problematic interpretations lies in the acceptance of symbolic meaning as an integral part of the Lord’s Supper, as discussed in Point 3. If the bread and wine are taken purely literally, the underdetermination problem persists, but when understood as symbols that point to deeper spiritual realities, we can reject the notion of physical transformation (whether transubstantiation, consubstantiation, or cannibalism) and focus on the real spiritual nourishment offered by Christ through faith.

In contrast to Ferris’s literalism, the Reformed view—emphasized by figures like John Calvin—holds that the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper are tangible symbols, representing Christ’s body and blood without requiring a physical or metaphysical transformation. This view steers clear of underdetermination by firmly anchoring the elements in their symbolic role while maintaining the spiritual reality of Christ’s presence in the sacrament.

4. Literal and Symbolic Elements in the Passover and the Last Supper:

Ferris’s argument that the bread and wine are literal at the Lord’s Supper fails to account for the rich symbolic meaning that Jewish ceremonies often imbue into physical elements. The food at both the Passover and the Last Supper was real, but it carried profound theological significance.

Symbolic Meaning in Jewish Rituals:

Many Jewish rituals, including the Passover, used physical objects that represented deeper spiritual truths. The Passover lamb, while a literal sacrifice, symbolized God’s mercy and deliverance. This symbolism is mirrored in the Last Supper, where the bread and wine, while literal, represent Jesus’ body and blood, given for the salvation of humanity. The significance of both the Passover lamb and the bread and wine of the Eucharist is not diminished by their physical presence. Instead, their physicality serves as a powerful symbol of the spiritual reality they convey.

Other Jewish Rituals with Symbolic Meaning:
Rituals like the bread of the Presence in the Tabernacle (Leviticus 24:5-9) and the manna from heaven (Exodus 16:15) also carried rich symbolic meaning. The manna was literal bread from heaven, but it pointed forward to Jesus as the true bread of life (John 6:31-35). In the same way, the bread and wine at the Lord’s Supper are physical elements that point to the greater reality of Christ’s sacrificial death. This pattern of combining literal and symbolic meaning was deeply embedded in Jewish worship and understanding.

Continuity of Symbolism in the Lord’s Supper:

The Last Supper, held during the Passover, is steeped in this same Jewish tradition of symbolism. Jesus takes the elements of the Passover meal and gives them new meaning. The unleavened bread, once a symbol of Israel’s haste in leaving Egypt, now represents His body. The wine, which symbolized the blood of the lamb sprinkled on doorposts, now symbolizes His blood, shed for the new covenant (Luke 22:19-20).

This symbolic continuity shows that the physical elements of bread and wine, like the lamb in the Passover, point to a greater spiritual truth: Christ’s death as the ultimate sacrifice. The imagery of the lamb, bread, and wine culminates in Christ, who fulfills the symbolism of these Old Testament rituals (Hebrews 9:13-14).

Deeper Theological Insights on Symbolism:

While Ferris argues that the bread and wine are literal, this view overlooks the broader biblical pattern where physical elements convey spiritual meaning. Both in the Passover and the Last Supper, the literal elements are integral but not exhaustive of their meaning. The bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper, though physically present, are rich with theological weight, symbolizing Christ’s body and blood given for the redemption of humanity.

Leon Morris on the Passover Lamb:
Leon Morris notes that the lamb in the Passover, while a literal sacrifice, was a “symbol of the redemption” God was enacting for His people. Similarly, the physical bread and wine at the Last Supper are not merely sustenance; they carry theological significance, representing Christ’s body broken and His blood poured out for the forgiveness of sins.
P.T. Forsyth on the Symbolic Power of the Lord’s Supper:
P.T. Forsyth, in The Cruciality of the Cross, argues that the symbolic power of the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper reveals the depth of Christ’s sacrifice. The Lord’s Supper is not merely a physical meal but an act of remembrance and proclamation of Christ’s atoning death, where physical elements represent the core truths of the Gospel. The physical presence of the elements enhances, rather than undermines, their symbolic meaning.

Old Testament Sacrifices as Fellowship Meals

Heiser’s connection between peace offerings and the Lord’s Supper shows that the fellowship meal was central to Israel’s relationship with God. Peace offerings, especially in Leviticus, involved the sharing of sacrificial meat between the priest and the worshiper. The burnt offering was wholly consumed, representing God’s portion, while the peace offering was shared, symbolizing a communal relationship between God, the priest, and the individual (Leviticus 7:11-21). The horizontal aspect of fellowship among worshippers mirrored the vertical fellowship with God. Heiser likens this to the communion meal in the New Testament, where believers not only commemorate Jesus’ sacrifice but engage in spiritual fellowship with Christ and fellow believers.

In both cases, the ritual was more than symbolic—it was a tangible way of expressing unity with God. The shared meal celebrated peace, forgiveness, and reconciliation, reflecting the renewed relationship between God and His people. For Heiser, the Lord’s Supper serves this same purpose: it’s a communal meal symbolizing fellowship, unity, and thanksgiving rather than an act through which grace is dispensed.

Distinction Between Atonement Sacrifices and Other Offerings

The distinction between atonement sacrifices and fellowship offerings is central to understanding the Lord’s Supper. Heiser underscores that the atonement sacrifices—such as the sin offering and guilt offering—were not consumed by the priests (Leviticus 16:27). These offerings were about purification and atonement for sin. By contrast, peace offerings and fellowship offerings (Leviticus 3:1-17; 7:11-21) were eaten by the priests and the offerers as a celebration of restored fellowship with God. Heiser uses this distinction to argue that the Lord’s Supper is a memorial meal that celebrates the once-for-all atonement of Christ, without repeating the sacrifice or dispensing grace.

This aligns with the New Testament’s teaching in Hebrews 9:25-26, which emphasizes that Christ’s atoning sacrifice was a once-for-all event. The Lord’s Supper is a remembrance of that completed work, drawing on the model of Old Testament peace offerings, where the focus was not on ongoing atonement but fellowship and thanksgiving for forgiveness already received.

Solidarity with God and Demonic Entities in Sacrifices

The idea of solidarity in sacrifices is also well-rooted in Old Testament thought. Heiser uses Paul’s warnings in 1 Corinthians 10 about participating in pagan sacrifices to explain that sacrifices establish fellowship with the deity to whom they are offered (1 Corinthians 10:18-20). This concept is rooted in the Old Testament prohibition against Israel participating in the sacrifices of pagan nations. When Israel participated in such sacrifices, they were not just engaging in a cultural ritual—they were entering into spiritual fellowship with the false gods or demonic forces (Deuteronomy 32:17).

In contrast, Paul sees participation in the Lord’s Supper as an act of fellowship with Christ, not merely a symbolic action, but a declaration of solidarity with Christ’s body and blood. Heiser underscores that this fellowship is relational and communal, similar to how the Old Testament peace offerings symbolized fellowship between God, the priests, and the people.

Paul’s Use of Old Testament Sacrificial Language

Paul’s use of sacrificial language in 1 Corinthians 9-10 reinforces Heiser’s argument. In 1 Corinthians 9:13-14, Paul refers to the priestly share of the sacrifices, pointing out that the priests ate a portion of the sacrifices as part of their sustenance and their fellowship with God. This imagery parallels the Lord’s Supper, where believers “share in the altar,” meaning they partake in fellowship with Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice (Hebrews 9:28). The language of koinonia (fellowship) in 1 Corinthians 10:16 emphasizes the participatory aspect of the meal, rather than a sacramental transformation of the elements.

Heiser stresses that in the Old Testament, only certain portions of sacrifices (like the peace offerings) were shared with the priests, and these meals represented fellowship rather than atonement. Paul’s argument reinforces that fellowship is the primary focus of the Lord’s Supper, just as it was in these Old Testament rituals.

Participation in Demonic Sacrifices

Heiser expands on the Old Testament warnings about participating in pagan sacrifices to underscore Paul’s point in 1 Corinthians 10. The sacrifices offered to false gods were seen as offerings to demons (Deuteronomy 32:17), and participating in these sacrifices meant entering into fellowship with demonic entities. Paul’s instruction to the Corinthians to avoid fellowship with demons (1 Corinthians 10:21) draws on these Old Testament ideas. Heiser emphasizes that the spiritual bond created through sacrificial meals was well understood in the ancient world. By analogy, partaking in the Lord’s Supper is about creating and maintaining a spiritual bond with Christ and not an act that dispenses grace.

The Priesthood of All Believers

Heiser’s reference to the priesthood of all believers (1 Peter 2:5, 9) draws on the Old Testament idea that only the priests had the privilege of participating in fellowship meals with God. In the New Testament, all believers are considered priests, with the right to enter into direct fellowship with God through the Lord’s Supper. This is akin to the Old Testament peace offerings, where priests would partake of the sacrificial meal as a sign of their relationship with God. For Heiser, the Lord’s Supper fulfills this same function—offering all believers, as part of the new priesthood, the opportunity to participate in a fellowship meal with God.

This reinforces the idea that the Supper is not sacramental in nature but an expression of communal fellowship with Christ and with one another, further distancing it from sacramental interpretations of the Eucharist.

Application of Old Testament Concepts to the Lord’s Supper

The love feasts of the early church, as described by Paul in 1 Corinthians 11, mirrored the communal meals associated with Old Testament peace offerings. These meals symbolized the unity and fellowship of the community, not only with each other but with Christ. Heiser notes that Paul’s critique of the Corinthians in 1 Corinthians 11 was rooted in their failure to maintain this communal aspect of the meal. By neglecting the poor and turning the meal into a display of selfishness, the Corinthians violated the fellowship that the Lord’s Supper was supposed to represent.

In the Old Testament, the peace offerings fostered communal unity—everyone shared in the meal, including the priests and the offerer, which strengthened the bond of fellowship with God. The early church’s love feasts served a similar function, but the abuses at Corinth undermined this purpose. For Heiser, Paul’s corrective in 1 Corinthians 11 is a call to restore the fellowship aspect of the meal, ensuring that all members of the church, rich and poor, participate equally in the fellowship with Christ.

5. Christ’s Foresight and Our Remembrance

Additionally, Ferris’s argument about Jesus’s foresight fails to consider that Christ’s teachings were often misunderstood, and yet He did not always change His language to prevent these misinterpretations. As seen in John 6, many of Jesus’s followers struggled with His teachings, but this does not diminish the truth of His words. In the same way, the symbolic nature of the Last Supper remains intact, despite the possibility of misunderstanding.

Ferris’s argument raises a theological dilemma: if the Eucharist is a recurring event of Christ’s presence and atonement, then the command to “do this in remembrance of me” becomes redundant. Remembrance implies that Christ’s atonement is a past event, not a recurring one. The bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper serve to point back to the singular, historical reality of the cross, not to re-present that event in an ongoing way.

In the same way that one doesn’t need to rewatch a movie in order to remember it, Christians don’t need the atonement to be repeated in the Eucharist. The act of remembrance is about proclaiming and recalling the finished work of Christ, which is sufficient and complete. This distinction is crucial to understanding the true nature of the Lord’s Supper as a memorial of Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice.

The Lord’s Supper, like the last supper, was based upon the Passover Seder, and Paul’s comments here should be understood in the light of that context.213 The final cup of the Passover meal (and the last supper) was called the “cup of blessing.” Just as participation in the Passover celebration entailed participation in the benefits of the Passover sacrifice (on which see Exod. 12:27; 34:25; Deut. 16:2,5, 6; 2 Chr. 35:1, 6, 11), so participation in the Lord’s Supper entails participation in the benefits of his sacrificial death on the cross. In 11:25 the cup will be interpreted as a reference to “the new covenant in [Christ’s] blood.” Paul evidently has in mind the Christian’s participation in the benefits of Christ’s covenant-establishing sacrifice.214 The Lord’s Supper is best understood as a covenant-ratifying meal in which the whole community was to participate.215 As Thiselton points out, the blessing which was uttered at the Passover Seder was one in which God was blessed or thanked for the (exodus) redemption commemorated in the Seder. For the Christian to share in the cup of blessing in the Lord’s Supper “represents a participation … in the redemption achieved in this context not by liberation from the oppression of Egypt, but the costly purchase of freedom from sin (1 Cor 6:19; 7:23) won through the ‘body and blood’ of Christ.”216 He correctly emphasizes the covenantal context of Paul’s thought and its Old Testament and Jewish background.217

Ciampa, Roy E.; Rosner, Brian S.. The First Letter to the Corinthians (Pillar New Testament Commentary) (Kindle Locations 11484-11494). Eerdmans Publishing Co – A. Kindle Edition.

In further addressing Ferris’s misunderstanding, it’s important to place the Lord’s Supper in its proper context. The Last Supper, which served as the foundation for the Christian Eucharist, was based on the Passover Seder. As Ciampa and Rosner point out in their commentary on 1 Corinthians, the Lord’s Supper should be understood within this Passover framework.

Participation in the Benefits of the Sacrifice:
Just as participation in the Passover Seder meant sharing in the benefits of the original Passover sacrifice—commemorating God’s deliverance from Egypt—participation in the Lord’s Supper entails sharing in the benefits of Christ’s sacrificial death on the cross. The final cup in the Passover meal, known as the “cup of blessing,” was a symbol of thanksgiving for God’s redemptive work in the Exodus. Similarly, when Christians partake in the Lord’s Supper, they share in the “cup of blessing” that now represents the new covenant established through the blood of Christ (1 Corinthians 11:25).

Covenantal Context of the Lord’s Supper:
As noted by Ciampa and Rosner, the Lord’s Supper is best understood as a covenant-ratifying meal, echoing the Old Testament covenants and their sacrificial contexts (Exodus 12:27, Deuteronomy 16:5-6). In the Passover, the meal not only commemorated past redemption but also marked the participants’ ongoing relationship with God under the covenant. Paul extends this understanding to the Lord’s Supper, where the community of believers participates in the benefits of Christ’s sacrificial death—freedom from sin, not from Egyptian oppression, but from spiritual bondage.

Anthony Thiselton adds that the blessing recited during the Passover Seder in Jewish tradition was one of thanksgiving for redemption. For Christians, the “cup of blessing” in the Lord’s Supper symbolizes participation in the redemption accomplished by Christ, whose body and blood were given for the forgiveness of sins (1 Corinthians 10:16-17). The sacrificial and covenantal framework is essential to understanding the theological depth of the Eucharist, which is not merely a figurative or repetitive event but a participation in the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ.

6. The Passover and the Lord’s Supper: Differentiating from the Catholic Eucharistic Notion of Re-presentation

In addressing Ferris’s misunderstanding of the Lord’s Supper, it’s crucial to situate the event within its proper biblical and theological context. The Last Supper, the foundation for the Christian Eucharist, is rooted in the Passover Seder, and this connection helps clarify the nature of the Eucharist in contrast to the Catholic notion of re-presentation, which asserts that the bread and wine in the Eucharist become the literal body and blood of Christ through transubstantiation. This view, however, is distinct from the biblical and Jewish understanding of remembrance and covenantal participation.

The Lord’s Supper within the Passover Framework:

As scholars Ciampa and Rosner highlight in their commentary on 1 Corinthians, the Lord’s Supper should be understood in the context of the Passover meal. During the Passover, Israelite families participated in a meal commemorating their deliverance from Egypt, but they did not believe they were being transported back to the original Passover. Instead, the Passover was a memorial—a way of recalling God’s faithfulness and renewing their covenant relationship with Him.

Participation in the Benefits of the Sacrifice:
Just as participation in the Passover Seder meant sharing in the benefits of the original Passover sacrifice—commemorating God’s deliverance from Egypt—participation in the Lord’s Supper involves sharing in the benefits of Christ’s sacrificial death on the cross. The cup at the Last Supper, referred to by Paul as the “cup of blessing,” parallels the final cup in the Passover meal. This cup is a symbol of thanksgiving for God’s redemptive work. In the Christian context, this cup represents the new covenant in Christ’s blood, signifying deliverance from sin and death (1 Corinthians 11:25).

Covenantal and Sacrificial Context:

The Lord’s Supper is best understood as a covenant-ratifying meal similar to Old Testament sacrifices that affirmed the ongoing relationship between God and His people. In the Passover, the meal not only commemorated the past redemption from Egypt but also marked the participants’ ongoing relationship under the covenant. Paul expands this idea to include the benefits of Christ’s sacrificial death, which delivers believers not from physical bondage in Egypt but from spiritual slavery to sin.

Anthony Thiselton points out that the blessing recited during the Passover Seder was one of thanksgiving for God’s redemptive acts. In the Lord’s Supper, the cup of blessing similarly symbolizes participation in Christ’s death and the forgiveness of sins (1 Corinthians 10:16-17). This covenantal and sacrificial framework reveals that the Eucharist is not a literal repetition or reenactment of Christ’s sacrifice but a memorial and participation in the benefits of His once-for-all atoning work (Hebrews 9:28).

Rejecting the Catholic Re-presentation Notion:

Ferris’s approach, which leans toward a more literal understanding of the bread and wine, risks aligning with the Catholic view of the Eucharist, where the bread and wine become the actual body and blood of Christ. However, the Catholic notion of transubstantiation—where the substance of the bread and wine changes into Christ’s body and blood—goes beyond the biblical framework of the Passover and the Lord’s Supper.

Passover as a Commemoration, Not a Reenactment:
In the Jewish tradition, the Passover meal did not mystically transport participants back to the original Exodus event. It was a commemorative meal that pointed to God’s past deliverance, reminding Israel of their ongoing covenant with God. In Exodus 12:26-27, the Passover is presented as a teaching tool: “When your children ask you, ‘What does this ceremony mean to you?’ then tell them, ‘It is the Passover sacrifice to the Lord, who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt.’” The meal was never meant to be a literal reenactment or mystical return to the original event.

Similarly, the Lord’s Supper does not transport believers back to the cross or re-crucify Christ. Instead, it is a memorial of Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice, reminding participants of the new covenant established through His death. While Catholic theology claims that the Eucharist is a re-presentation of the event of Calvary, this concept does not align with the biblical pattern seen in the Passover or other Old Testament rituals. The Passover lamb, like the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper, serves as a symbol of a singular, historical event.

Distinct from Catholic Eucharistic Theology:

In Catholic theology, the Eucharist is seen as a literal re-presentation of Christ’s sacrifice through the process of transubstantiation. This view asserts that the bread and wine become the actual body and blood of Christ. However, this interpretation stands in contrast to the way Jewish tradition understood covenant meals like the Passover. The Passover meal never claimed to re-present the original lamb, nor did it attempt to transport participants back to Egypt. Instead, it was a symbolic and commemorative meal, much like the Lord’s Supper.

Anthony Thiselton and other scholars emphasize that Paul’s description of the cup of blessing in 1 Corinthians refers to participating in the benefits of Christ’s death, not a literal reenactment. The Lord’s Supper follows the same pattern of the Passover: it is a memorial meal that allows believers to share in the spiritual benefits of Christ’s sacrifice, not a literal recreation of the event.

R.C. Sproul on the Memorial Act:
In contrast to the Catholic view, R.C. Sproul and other Reformed theologians describe the Lord’s Supper as a memorial act that points back to Christ’s sacrifice without re-presenting it. The bread and wine are signs that point to Christ’s body and blood but do not become the literal elements of the crucifixion. The focus is on remembering and proclaiming Christ’s work on the cross, not re-enacting or re-presenting it in any mystical sense.

Conclusion: The Lord’s Supper and Passover as Memorials:

Ferris’s understanding of the Lord’s Supper as a literal event influenced by Catholic notions of re-presentation misses the deeper covenantal and sacrificial context. Just as the Passover was a memorial meal that allowed Israel to participate in the benefits of God’s deliverance, the Lord’s Supper invites believers to participate in the benefits of Christ’s redemptive sacrifice without attempting to recreate or re-present the original event.

The memorial aspect of both the Passover and the Lord’s Supper reflects the symbolic nature of these covenant meals, allowing for meaningful participation without the need for a literal reenactment or re-presentation. Recognizing this symbolic and covenantal framework is essential for understanding the true purpose of the Lord’s Supper and how it differs from Catholic Eucharistic theology.

1. Assumption of Literal Interpretation

Ferris assumes that the phrase “this is my body” must be taken literally, meaning that Jesus literally identified the bread as His physical body. This assumption is central to Catholic transubstantiation but problematic for several reasons:

Context and Genre: Jesus frequently used figurative language in His teachings. For example, when He said “I am the door” or “I am the vine” (John 10:9, John 15:1), no one interprets these statements literally. Ferris dismisses these examples because Jesus wasn’t holding a physical door or vine when He said them. However, this misses the broader issue: Jesus often used symbolism to communicate spiritual truths. The bread at the Last Supper, like the door or vine, is a material object used to convey a deeper reality.
The Broader Biblical Theme of Symbolism: The Bible is filled with symbols that represent spiritual realities, especially in Jewish ritual practices. For example, the Passover lamb symbolized deliverance from death, and the unleavened bread represented purity and haste during the Exodus. These were not literal transformations but powerful symbols. Given that Jesus was celebrating the Passover at the Last Supper, it fits the context to understand the bread as symbolic of His impending sacrifice, not as a literal transformation.

2. Misunderstanding the Function of Metaphors

Ferris attempts to dismiss the metaphorical language in “this is my body” by contrasting it with “I am the door” and “I am the vine.” He suggests that because Jesus physically held bread and declared it to be His body, it must be literal. However, this misunderstanding overlooks how metaphors function in language:

Metaphors in Scripture: Metaphors are a frequent tool Jesus used to convey profound theological truths. Simply holding the bread does not necessitate a literal interpretation of “this is my body.” Like the Passover lamb, the bread symbolizes something greater than itself. Jesus used physical objects to teach spiritual realities, not to imply literal transformations.
Consistency with Figurative Language: Throughout His ministry, Jesus used tangible elements to represent spiritual truths. For instance, when He washed the disciples’ feet, the physical act represented a deeper spiritual truth about humility and service. The use of bread at the Last Supper follows this consistent teaching method.

3. Neglect of the Covenant Context

Ferris fails to address the covenantal background of Jesus’s words at the Last Supper. When Jesus said, “this is my body” and “this is my blood,” He was participating in a Passover meal, a remembrance of God’s covenant with Israel, focused on deliverance from Egypt, symbolized by the lamb and unleavened bread.

Passover and Symbolism: The Passover meal was deeply symbolic, with the lamb representing God’s deliverance from death and the unleavened bread symbolizing purity and the haste of the Exodus. When Jesus declares the bread to be His body, He draws on this tradition, showing that His body, like the Passover lamb, would bring about deliverance. The bread was not literally His body.
Covenant Language: Jesus’s statement “this is my blood of the covenant” (Matthew 26:28) invokes Old Testament covenant language. When Moses declared “the blood of the covenant” in Exodus 24:8, it was clearly symbolic of the covenant relationship. Jesus invokes this same symbolism, emphasizing that His blood would be shed to establish a new covenant, not that the wine was literally His blood.

4. Logical Leap from Cana to Transubstantiation

Ferris argues that because Jesus turned water into wine at Cana, He can turn bread into His body and wine into His blood at the Last Supper. While it’s true that Jesus performed miracles, this argument is problematic:

Different Types of Miracles: The miracle at Cana is explicitly described as a transformation of one substance into another (water into wine). In contrast, there is no indication of a transformation miracle taking place at the Last Supper. Jesus speaks about the bread and wine as symbols of His impending sacrifice, not as objects undergoing a miraculous transformation. The language around Cana describes a miracle, while the Last Supper’s language describes covenantal symbolism.
Lack of Scriptural Support: Nowhere in the Gospel accounts of the Last Supper does the text indicate a miracle of transformation akin to Cana. The bread and wine are described as symbols tied to remembering Jesus’s sacrifice. The absence of miracle language weakens Ferris’s argument.

5. Protestant Hermeneutics and Symbolic Interpretation

Ferris critiques the Protestant symbolic interpretation but does not substantively engage with the underlying principles of Protestant hermeneutics:

Historical-Grammatical Method: Protestant interpretation often relies on understanding the historical and literary context of a passage. In the case of the Last Supper, Protestants recognize the symbolic nature of Jesus’s actions, which align with Jewish ritual and covenant symbolism. The historical context of the Passover meal and Jesus’s frequent use of metaphor strongly support a symbolic reading.
Communion as Remembrance: Jesus’s instruction to “do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19) further reinforces the symbolic nature of the Eucharist. If the bread and wine were literally transformed into His body and blood, the language of remembrance would be out of place. Instead, Jesus is calling His followers to remember His sacrifice through symbolic acts of eating bread and drinking wine, much as the Passover meal recalled God’s deliverance.

The phrase ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood’ (Luke 22:20) does not mean that the physical cup itself is the covenant. Rather, Jesus is using symbolic language to convey that the contents of the cup, representing His blood, signify the New Covenant that His sacrifice would establish. In biblical terms, covenants were often sealed with blood, as seen in Exodus 24:8, where the blood of a sacrifice was sprinkled to represent the binding agreement between God and His people. Here, Jesus is using the cup and wine to symbolize His sacrificial blood, which seals the new covenant between God and humanity. The cup is not the literal covenant; instead, it represents the blood that enacts the covenant.

Quotes from Scholars and thinkers about “flesh”

From Jason Engwer:

It should be noted that the claim that Jesus didn’t clarify himself in John 6 needs to be argued, not just asserted. Why think that comments like those in 6:35 and 6:63 aren’t meant to clarify that he wasn’t referring to physically eating his body? If we’re told that coming to him and believing in him satisfy our hunger and thirst (6:35), then we have been given a clarification that something other than consuming the eucharistic elements is in view. Similarly, when Jesus says in verse 63 that the flesh profits nothing, which is reminiscent of his discouragement of seeking physical food earlier (verses 26-29), that’s more naturally taken as a clarification that he’s not referring to eating his flesh physically. You could take “flesh” to be a reference to human fallenness or sinfulness, and thereby reconcile Jesus’ comments with a physical presence in the eucharist, but that’s a less natural way to take the phrase in its context. The nearby context is more focused on flesh in the sense of Jesus’ body, and it’s not as though Jesus’ critics were arguing that human fallenness or sinfulness is profitable. So, Jesus’ comment in 6:63 is more relevant, and therefore makes more sense, under my view. If some people were inattentive to what he was saying or misrepresented it, that doesn’t change the fact that Jesus did provide clarification. And since verse 66 is often cited in this context, we need to keep in mind that those comments are made just after Jesus’ remarks in verses 61-65, which aren’t about a physical presence in the eucharist even if we assume that he’s referring to a physical presence earlier in the passage. Verse 66 could be referring back to Jesus’ earlier comments, in part or in whole, but it need not be, and it’s more naturally taken as referring primarily to the closer context of verses 61-65.

Aside from all of that, notice that if Jesus was teaching a physical presence in the eucharist, we’d expect more clarification. The eucharist not only wasn’t being practiced yet at that time, but also hadn’t even been explained in anticipation of a future practice. We don’t see somebody like Peter or John asking Jesus for clarification about the means by which they’d consume his body, which is a clarification we’d expect them to want if they took him the way advocates of a physical presence in the eucharist are suggesting. We don’t see them asking how his body could provide enough for every one of his followers to eat and drink, given the physical attributes of Jesus’ body and how many followers the Messiah was expected to have. We don’t see Jesus’ disciples trying to bite off portions of his body, only to have it explained to them that they should only eat his flesh and drink his blood in the context of the eucharist. Instead, the disciples seem to take his comments much as they took similarly strong, but nonliteral language elsewhere (e.g., tearing out your eye that leads to sin, cutting off your hand that leads to sin, taking up your cross to follow him). We don’t see the disciples asking how they can have spiritual life, as Jesus has told them they do (e.g., verse 70), when they haven’t physically eaten his flesh and drunk his blood yet. If verse 53 meant that you had to have eaten Jesus’ flesh and drunk his blood physically in order to have spiritual life, then where’s the request for clarification from his disciples, and where did Jesus clarify that people could have spiritual life prior to the institution of the eucharist and that people could have spiritual life afterward without consuming a eucharistic physical presence (e.g., Protestants)? If coming to Jesus and believing in him are enough to satisfy your hunger and thirst (verse 35), then how can you not have spiritual life until you physically consume Jesus’ body in the eucharist (verse 53)? A metaphorical reading of John 6 makes more sense of the text and context and involves less of a need for clarification than the alternative.

From DA Carson:

(1) Verses 54 and 40 are closely parallel: ‘Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day’ (v. 54); ‘… everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day’ (v. 40). The only substantial difference is that one speaks of eating Jesus’ flesh and drinking Jesus’ blood, while the other, in precisely the same conceptual location, speaks of looking to the Son and believing in him. The conclusion is obvious: the former is the metaphorical way of referring to the latter. Indeed, we have seen that this link is supported by the structure of the entire discourse. Small wonder that Augustine of Hippo wrote, Crede, et manducasti (‘Believe, and you have eaten’).257 (2) Moreover, the language of vv. 53–54 is so completely unqualified that if its primary reference is to the eucharist we must conclude that the one thing necessary to eternal life is participation at the Lord’s table. This interpretation of course actually contradicts the earlier parts of the discourse, not least v. 40. The only reasonable alternative is to understand these verses as a repetition of the earlier truth, but now in metaphorical form. (3) The passage goes on to insist that ‘the flesh counts for nothing’ (v. 63). The verse is not self-evident, but its meaning becomes clear when it is carefully read in its context (cf. notes on vv. 61–63, below). Then what is really scandalous is not the ostensibly ‘cannibalistic’ metaphor, but the cross to which it points. (4) That John must still add and I will raise him up at the last day (v. 54) proves he does not think that eating the flesh and drinking the blood themselves immediately confer resurrection/immortality. ‘The eater still has to be raised up at the last day; the Eucharist, indeed the spiritual communion also to which it points, is not a recipe for immortality’ (Barrett, Essays, p. 43). This establishes that the view of Ignatius, that the eucharist is the medicine of immortality (if his language is taken at face value: cf. notes on vv. 22ff.), is ruled out of court.

Carson, D. A.. The Gospel according to John (Pillar New Testament Commentary) (Kindle Locations 6028-6045). Eerdmans Publishing Co – A. Kindle Edition.

To take the words of the preceding discourse literally, without penetrating their symbolic meaning, is useless. It causes offence; it does not arrive at Jesus’ meaning, for the flesh counts for nothing. Although this clause does not rule out all allusion in the preceding verses to the Lord’s supper, it is impossible not to see in ‘flesh’ a direct reference to the preceding discussion, and therefore a dismissal of all primarily sacramental interpretations. It is not as if the flesh is of no significance: after all, the Word became flesh (1:14). But when all the focus of attention is on the flesh, then the real significance of Jesus is missed, and the kinds of objections raised both by ‘the Jews’ and by ostensible disciples quickly surface. But if flesh does not give life, what does? One of the clearest characteristics of the Spirit in the Old Testament is the giving of life (e.g. Gn. 1:2; Ezk. 37:1ff.; cf. Barrett, HSGT, pp. 18–23). In this Gospel we have already been introduced to the Spirit’s role in the new birth (Jn. 3); there the contrast between flesh and spirit is no less sharp. So here: The Spirit gives life. Strictly speaking, the Spirit does not come upon the disciples until after Jesus’ ascension (7:37–39); but already Jesus himself is the bearer of the Spirit (1:32f.), the one to whom God gives the Spirit without limit and who therefore speaks the words of God (3:34). That is why Jesus can now say, The words I have spoken to you are spirit (i.e. they are the product of the life-giving Spirit) and they are life (i.e. Jesus’ words, rightly understood and absorbed, generate life–cf. 5:24). If the words of Jesus in this discourse are rightly grasped, then instead of rejecting Jesus people will see him as the bread from heaven, the one who gives his flesh for the life of the world, the one who alone provides eternal life, and they will receive him and believe in him, taste eternal life even now, and enjoy the promise that he will raise them up on the last day. It is hard not to see in the last clause an allusion to Jeremiah 15:16, where the prophet addresses God: ‘When your words came, I ate them; they were my joy and my heart’s delight’ (cf. also Ezk. 2:8–3:3; Rev. 10:9ff.). In short, Jeremiah’s assessment of God’s words is the same as Jesus’ assessment of his own words. One cannot feed on Christ without feeding on Christ’s words, for truly believing Jesus cannot be separated from truly believing Jesus’ words (5:46–47). Human beings live by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God (Dt. 8:3). The identical claim is now made for the words of Jesus, precisely because he is the Word incarnate (1:1–18; cf. 5:19–30). The connection between v. 63 and vv. 61–62 is now clear. Already Jesus is establishing the link between his own ascension/glorification (v. 62) and the coming of the Spirit (v. 63; cf. 7:37–39). Moreover, all the points that had offended these shallow disciples find their answer here –a critically divisive answer. Here is sharp insistence on the priority of spiritual life, unrelenting stress on Jesus’ authority and superiority over Moses, and above all the promise of eternal life engendered by the Spirit and the Word, consequent upon Jesus ‘ascending’ by a means more offensive than the harshest metaphor.

Carson, D. A.. The Gospel according to John (Pillar New Testament Commentary) (Kindle Locations 6134-6158). Eerdmans Publishing Co – A. Kindle Edition.

From Leon Morris:

The thought of this verse is complex. There is a contrast between “the Spirit” who “gives life”149 and “the flesh” that “counts for nothing.”150 The antithesis between flesh and spirit would lead us to think that the human spirit is meant. But the human spirit is not life-giving. There is unquestionably a reference to the Holy Spirit, the Life-giver. This is the case in John’s previous contrast between flesh and spirit in 3:6 (cf. also the reference to the Spirit in the discourse on living water in ch. 4 and in 7:38-39). Probably there is also a contrast between the letter of the words and the spirit (in the manner of 2 Cor. 3:6). A woodenly literal, flesh-dominated manner of looking at Jesus’ words151 will not yield the correct interpretation. That is granted only to the spiritual, to Spirit-dominated people. Such words cannot be comprehended by “the flesh” (for this term see on 3:6). The word may be used in this Gospel in a good sense; after all the Word became flesh (1:14), and in this chapter we have seen several references to the flesh of Jesus. But here it is the limitations of fleshly life that is in mind. Those whose lives are taken up with material things, things of the here and now, cannot understand Jesus’ teaching. People whose horizon is bounded by the things of earth cut themselves off from his teaching and their kind of living “counts for nothing.” Only as the life-giving Spirit informs us may we understand these words. This applies to much more than the words of this discourse. In his teaching as a whole Jesus emphasizes the Spirit, though specific references to the Spirit are not frequent. He is not concerned with the good that people may produce by the best efforts of the flesh, their earthly nature. All his teaching presupposes the need for a work of the divine Spirit within us. Jesus goes on to equate his words with spirit and with life.152 This does not mean that we should indulge in whole-hearted allegorical interpretation. It means that Jesus’ words are creative utterances (cf. the words of God in Gen. 1). They not only tell of life; they bring life (cf. 5:24). Life is here connected with Christ’s words, whereas earlier in the chapter life comes from eating the flesh and drinking the blood. There is no contradiction, for we must not separate the words and deeds of Christ.153 His words point us to the deed on Calvary whereby life is won for believers. Those words and that deed are one.

Morris, Leon. The Gospel According to John (The New International Commentary on the New Testament) (Kindle Locations 9164-9183). Eerdmans Publishing Co – A. Kindle Edition.

From Andreas J. Köstenberger:

“The Spirit is the one who gives life; the flesh profits nothing” (cf. Isa. 40:6–8).91 Jesus’ words here resemble his earlier comments to Nicodemus (3:6; see also 5:21; cf. 1 Cor. 15:45).92 In the present instance, Jesus’ point seems to be that human reason unaided by the Spirit is unable to discern what is spiritual (Ridderbos 1997: 246; Morris 1995: 340; cf. 1 Cor. 2:6–16).93 The reference to Jesus’ ascension in John 6:62 further suggests that here he states the necessity of the Spirit’s work (cf. 7:37–39; see Carson 1991: 302; Beasley-Murray 1999: 96). According to the Hebrew Scriptures, life was created by God’s Spirit (Gen. 1:2; cf. 2:7) through his word (“And/Then God said”; Gen. 1:3, 6, 9, 11, 14, 20, 24, 26). Later, Moses instructed his fellow Israelites that “man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD” (Deut. 8:3). Ezekiel memorably depicts the Spirit as life-giving (e.g., 37:1–14, esp. v. 5), and Jeremiah exemplifies receptivity to God’s word (Jer. 15:16; cf. Ezek. 2:8–3:3) (Carson 1991: 302; Barrett 1978: 305). Both OT and NT view God’s word as fully efficacious (Isa. 55:11; Jer. 23:29; Heb. 4:12). Here it is stated that it is Jesus’ words (ῥήματα, rhēmata) that are spirit and life (cf. 5:24, 40, 46–47; 6:68),94 which is in keeping with God’s nature as spirit (4:24; see Schlatter [1948: 182], who also cites 1:1) and contrasts with the Jewish belief that life is found in the words of the law (5:39; cf. Mek. Exod. 15.26, citing Prov. 4:22; m. ˒Abot 6.7).

Andreas J. Köstenberger. BECNT – John (Kindle Locations 4860-4861). Kindle Edition.

From J. Ramsey Michaels:

This poses a serious problem for many interpreters because it seems to undercut Jesus’ insistence just expressed that “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you do not have life in yourselves” (v. 53), and that “The person who eats my flesh and drinks my blood dwells in me, and I in him” (v. 56).18 Especially those committed to a sacramental interpretation of verses 53–58 complain that Jesus seems to be giving them something with one hand only to take it back with the other. Raymond Brown, for example, unable to explain “how the absolute statement, ‘The flesh is useless,’ could ever have been said of the eucharistic flesh of Jesus,” admits to having “interpreted 60–71 as if these verses had no reference to 51–58.”19 But a solution presents itself if we go back to Jesus’ first use of the word “flesh” (v. 51): “and the bread I will give him is my flesh for the life of the world.” There, as we saw, “my flesh” was a metaphor for Jesus’ death “for the life of the world.” Here, the point is that “flesh” is no good without “Spirit,” that is, death even for a noble cause “accomplishes nothing”—unless it is followed by resurrection. Martyrdom for martyrdom’s sake, without hope of vindication, is sheer futility, but Jesus has promised vindication, not once but over and over again: “never go hungry,” and “never ever thirst” (v. 35), “never cast out” (v. 37), “raise it up at the last day” (v. 39), “have life eternal,” and “raise him up at the last day” (v. 40), “raise him up at the last day” (v. 44), “has life eternal” (v. 47), “will live forever” (v. 51), “has life eternal,” and “raise him up at the last day” (v. 54), “dwells in me, and I in him” (v. 56), “will live because of me” (v. 57), and “will live forever” (v. 58).

Michaels, J. Ramsey;. The Gospel of John (Kindle Locations 7935-7949). Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.. Kindle Edition.

Edwards Klink states:

“The Spirit is giving life, the flesh cannot help anything; the words which I have spoken to you are spirit and are life (τὸ πνεῦμά ἐστιν τὸ ζῳοποιοῦν, ἡ σὰρξ οὐκ ὠφελεῖ οὐδέν· τὰ ῥήματα ἃ ἐγὼ λελάληκα ὑμῖν πνεῦμά ἐστιν καὶ ζωή ἐστιν). Pressing further his challenge against their unbelief and offense, Jesus gives commentary on their state of rebellion. Jesus declares that the Spirit, which can only be the Holy Spirit, “is giving life” (ἐστιν τὸ ζῳοποιοῦν). The participle serves to highlight aspectual force, which in this case is the present, even ongoing, occurrence of the giving of life (cf. 2 Cor 3:6).53 This is contrasted with the emphatic, double-negative denial of “the flesh” (ἡ σὰρξ), which is spoken of as helpless; it “cannot provide anything” (οὐκ ὠφελεῖ οὐδέν).54 The concept of flesh is not to be simply imported from the apostle Paul, for in John “flesh” is merely the body and its limitations. The point is quite simple: “flesh” and “spirit” are different spheres of reality, each producing offspring like itself.55 “Neither can take to itself the capacity of the other.”56 This verse has many similarities to what Jesus said to Nicodemus (see comments on 3:6). Thus, when Jesus declares that “the words” (τὰ ῥήματα) he has spoken to these so-called disciples “are spirit and are life” (πνεῦμά ἐστιν καὶ ζωή ἐστιν), he rebukes them by way of reminder that he is the one who gives life (5:21), he is the assigned Judge (5:22), and it is the Father alone who wills belief (cf. v. 37–39, 44). Interpreters who have relied heavily on a eucharistic interpretation of this pericope have difficulty with this verse and usually disassociate this section (vv. 60–71) from the preceding verses because it does not match the emphasis placed on the “flesh” of Jesus.57 But that confuses the “flesh” in general with the flesh of Jesus Christ, which is the unique flesh that provides for our “flesh” the beginnings of eternal life (see especially the comments on v. 51). The contrast, then, is not entirely between all flesh and spirit, but between the “flesh” of dying humanity and the living flesh of Jesus, the flesh of the bread of life—the flesh of the crucified God.58 It is in the person of Jesus where our flesh, which he himself bore, becomes united with his life.

Edward W Klink III. John (Kindle Locations 9503-9513). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

This further statement by Jesus serves to reinforce the radical nature of the cleansing and renewal from God. The concept of flesh is not to be simplistically imported from the apostle Paul, for in John “flesh” is merely the body and its limitations, which is sharply contrasted to the source of the children of God, which is supernatural and entirely from the outside of a person (cf. 1:12–13). The point is quite simple: “flesh” and “spirit” are different spheres of reality, each producing offspring like itself.22 “Neither can take to itself the capacity of the other.”23 While the contrast is clear, it is only at the center of the contrast, at the point of their interrelation, that the gospel is presented. The one who speaks these words is the one who became flesh. Standing before Nicodemus and now confronting the reader is the “spirit”-become-flesh. It is for this reason that the prologue so intimately connected this new birth to Christ’s person and work.

Edward W Klink III. John (Kindle Locations 5772-5780). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.

Andrew Lincoln states:

The context of this next saying needs to be recalled. The bread of life discourse has stressed that eternal life is appropriated through believing, and this was the primary force of the assertion that eating Jesus’ flesh and drinking his blood were necessary in order to have life. Now this saying begins to reflect on the mystery of why some believe but others are unable to accept Jesus and his teaching. The framework for such reflection is provided by the contrast between Spirit and flesh. To understand the contrast, it is necessary to appreciate the reference of the term ‘flesh’ here. After the positive evaluation that has been given to Jesus’ flesh in the preceding discourse, the negative assertion about the flesh here has struck many as contradictory and contributed to various theories of different levels of redaction in the chapter. Others, who also link the use here with its earlier reference to Jesus’ flesh, have attempted to soften the contradiction by claiming that Jesus’ flesh in and of itself does not have efficacy and needs the Spirit, only given when the Son of Man is ascended and glorified, to work through it before it is able fully to be the vehicle of life. But it is hard to imagine that the stark formulation that the flesh is of no avail is simply a qualification of the emphatic assertion that Jesus’ flesh is to be identified with the bread which does avail for the life of the world (cf. v. 51).
The confusion can be avoided when it is observed that the evangelist employs ‘flesh’ positively when it is linked with Jesus and negatively when it is associated with human response to the divine revelation. In the latter context, the flesh/Spirit contrast has similar associations to that found in the Pauline writings. ‘Flesh’ refers to the sphere of merely human existence which, without the activity of the Spirit, is alienated from the life of God. Nicodemus was unable to come to true understanding of Jesus because he remained only in the realm of the flesh and was not born of the Spirit (3:6; cf. also 1:13). The unbelieving Pharisees judge Jesus ‘according to the flesh’ (8:15). Here, too, although Jesus’ words are Spirit and life, animated by the divine Spirit and therefore life-giving for those who believe, these disciples in their response remain oriented to the sphere of the flesh and for this reason are unable to accept those words. The flesh is of no avail in evaluating Jesus; merely human categories can only take offence at the claim that the flesh of the divine Son of Man must be offered up in death for the life of the world

Andrew T. Lincoln, The Gospel according to Saint John, Black’s New Testament Commentary (London: Continuum, 2005), 237.