Catholic Commentary
The Disciples' Scandal and Jesus' Response
60Therefore many of his disciples, when they heard this, said, “This is a hard saying! Who can listen to it?”61But Jesus knowing in himself that his disciples murmured at this, said to them, “Does this cause you to stumble?62Then what if you would see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before?63It is the spirit who gives life. The flesh profits nothing. The words that I speak to you are spirit, and are life.64But there are some of you who don’t believe.” For Jesus knew from the beginning who they were who didn’t believe, and who it was who would betray him.65He said, “For this cause I have said to you that no one can come to me, unless it is given to him by my Father.”
Jesus refuses to soften his hardest claim—that his flesh is real food—because the scandal itself sifts out those who want a manageable god from those willing to surrender to grace.
When Jesus concludes his Bread of Life discourse, many disciples find his teaching intolerable and begin to withdraw. Jesus does not soften his words; instead he probes their scandal, appeals to the greater mystery of his heavenly origin, distinguishes spirit-giving flesh from merely human flesh, and anchors all genuine faith in the prior gift of the Father. These verses expose both the cost of discipleship and the absolute sovereignty of divine grace in the act of believing.
Verse 60 — "This is a hard saying!" The Greek sklēros ("hard") connotes something harsh, rough, or intolerable — not merely difficult to comprehend but offensive to accept. The complaint surfaces not from the crowd of Capernaum but from within the circle of mathētai (disciples) — those already committed to following Jesus. John carefully notes this distinction: the crisis is internal to the community of faith. The "hard saying" almost certainly refers to the entire Bread of Life discourse (vv. 22–58), and most immediately to Jesus' insistence in vv. 53–58 that one must eat his flesh and drink his blood to have life. The disciples' question, "Who can listen to it?" (akouein), carries the Semitic sense of obedient reception — who can receive and act upon such a word?
Verse 61 — Jesus knowing in himself John's characteristic emphasis on Jesus' supernatural self-knowledge (cf. 2:25; 13:11) reappears here. Jesus does not need the disciples to voice their complaint openly; he perceives the murmur (goggyzō, the same word used of Israel's murmuring in the wilderness, Exod 16:7–8 LXX) from within. His response is a question — "Does this cause you to stumble?" (skandalizō) — which names the spiritual stakes precisely. The Eucharistic flesh is a stumbling block, a scandalon, echoing Isaiah's stone of stumbling (Isa 8:14) and Paul's "foolishness" of the cross (1 Cor 1:23). Jesus does not retreat; he presses the wound.
Verse 62 — The Ascension as a greater sign This verse is deliberately incomplete — a rhetorical aposiopesis — "What if you see the Son of Man ascending…?" Jesus leaves the conclusion unspoken. Two readings have generated debate: (a) the Ascension will intensify the scandal (for they will then see the glorified Son returning to the Father, confirming his divine origin and the literal truth of his heavenly bread); or (b) the Ascension will resolve the scandal (because after the Resurrection they will understand). Both are theologically true, but in context the first reading fits better: if the claim to give his flesh causes scandal, what will the open display of his divine pre-existence do? The title "Son of Man" deliberately evokes Daniel 7:13, the heavenly figure who comes before the Ancient of Days — his ascending is a return to origin, not an escape.
Verse 63 — Spirit and flesh This is perhaps the most theologically dense verse in the cluster and historically the most controverted. "The flesh profits nothing" has been seized by those who wish to spiritualize the Eucharist (e.g., Zwingli argued this proves Christ's body is not really present). But careful exegesis shows that "flesh" () here does not refer to Christ's glorified, sacramental body, but to the — judging by outward, carnal standards, as the murmuring disciples are doing. The contrast is not between Christ's flesh and the Spirit, but between two modes of reception: fleshly/unbelieving and spiritual/faithful. Augustine is decisive here: "What He said, 'the flesh profits nothing,' is to be understood as they understood flesh" — that is, as brute matter without faith. The words Jesus speaks spirit and life: logos and pneuma are inseparable in him. The Eucharistic body, precisely because it is the body of the risen, glorified, Spirit-filled Lord, is wholly life-giving.
Catholic tradition reads this passage as a linchpin of both Eucharistic theology and the theology of grace, and the two are inseparable.
On the Eucharist: the Council of Trent (Session 13, 1551) explicitly addressed the attempt to deploy v. 63 against Real Presence, affirming that "the flesh profits nothing" cannot mean that Christ's body is absent from the sacrament, since it is the very source of spiritual life. St. Thomas Aquinas (Summa Theologiae III, q. 75) argues that in the Eucharist the substance of bread is converted into Christ's body — Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity — precisely because Christ's glorified flesh is inseparable from the Spirit who gives life. St. Cyril of Alexandria, commenting on v. 63, insists that Christ's flesh is "life-giving" (zōopoion) because it is united hypostatically to the Word and animated by the Holy Spirit.
On grace: verse 65 is one of the scriptural foundations for the Catholic doctrine of prevenient grace — grace that precedes and enables the act of faith. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that "the preparation of man for the reception of grace is already a work of grace" (CCC 2001). Augustine's anti-Pelagian writings cite v. 44 and v. 65 extensively to demonstrate that the initiative in salvation belongs wholly to God (see De Gratia et Libero Arbitrio). The Second Council of Orange (529) confirmed this reading against semi-Pelagianism. Yet Catholic tradition equally insists, against a rigid predestinarianism, that this gift does not destroy freedom — it perfects it (CCC 1742). The disciples who walk away do so freely; those who remain, like Peter in v. 68, do so by grace and free response together.
Contemporary Catholics encounter their own version of the "hard saying" whenever they approach the Eucharist with distracted routine, or when cultural pressures tempt them to regard the Real Presence as metaphor. Surveys consistently show that significant numbers of self-identified Catholics doubt or deny transubstantiation — the murmur of Capernaum has not gone silent. This passage invites a frank examination: am I receiving the Eucharist in a "fleshly" way — mechanically, without faith, without the spiritual preparation of prayer and repentance — or in the "spirit and life" Jesus intends? Concretely, this might mean recovering the practice of spending time in silent prayer before and after Communion, making regular use of the Sacrament of Reconciliation before receiving, or engaging in lectio divina with John 6 as a whole during Eucharistic Adoration. Verse 65 also confronts the Catholic who struggles with doubt: the very desire to believe, even amid intellectual difficulty, is itself a grace from the Father drawing you toward the Son. Bring the "hard saying" to prayer rather than away from it.
Verse 64 — Foreknowledge of betrayal John quietly introduces Judas into the Eucharistic discourse here, before naming him explicitly in v. 71. Jesus' foreknowledge is not mechanical predestination but divine omniscience that operates without annulling human freedom. Judas will receive the morsel at the Last Supper (13:26–27) and still choose darkness. This verse is a somber warning that proximity to Jesus — even discipleship — does not guarantee saving faith.
Verse 65 — The Father's gift of faith Jesus recapitulates the principle of v. 44: no one can come to him unless the Father "draws" (helkyō) and "gives" (didōmi). Faith is not a human achievement but a gift (donum fidei) of prevenient grace. The scandal of the Eucharist thus serves as a theological sieve — what remains when human self-sufficiency is stripped away is the naked need for grace.