Every three years, the
Revised Common Lectionary, which is the fancy name for the cycle of Scripture
readings we use in our worship, features these readings from the 6th
chapter of John. Because the gospel writer John fashions the chapters of his
gospel as single scenes or themes from Jesus’ ministry, with often one whole
chapter devoted to a specific occurrence or teaching, we end up getting five
weeks in a row of bread.
Well, that’s one way to put
it. Really what we get is five weeks in a row of Jesus talking with various
crowds and his disciples about the bread of life. It’s a fascinating and meaningful
episode of Jesus’ life and teaching, but, used in worship so repeatedly, it
does start to feel like bread, over and over again. It’s like going to a
restaurant on several Friday nights only to discover the same bland thing on
the menu. This theme actually began with our gospel offering last week. As some
of you may remember, we heard the story of Jesus’ miraculous sign in which he multiplied
five loaves of bread and two fishes to feed 5000 people. Those crowds follow
after Jesus and his disciples and pretty soon this long conversation ensues about
why Jesus performed that sign and what it all means. It will continue for a few
more weeks…so prepare yourselves!
Here’s the funny thing: we
pastors notoriously complain about these five weeks of bread talk. It’s like
carb-loading, homiletically-speaking. If you think it’s bland to hear so much
on one topic for five weeks, just imagine preparing sermons and choosing hymns
for it. Nowhere else in the lectionary (that I know of) do we spend so much
time on one chapter and motif. And, yet, as I reflect on it—on this
overabundance of bread readings—there seems to be some wisdom to it, and maybe
a bit of prophetic justice, too. Who am I to complain, for example, about five
straight weeks of talking about Jesus as the bread of life when most of the
world must subsist on nothing but bread? Who am I to demand some variety in
church Scripture readings…or in the words of the hymns…or even in my own
preaching…when most of the world has absolutely precious little variety in much
of anything?
We live in a corner of the
world where just about any amount of any kind of food we can imagine is but a
five-or ten-minute drive away. Many, however, still live in places where the
energy of each day is literally given to making sure the belly doesn’t grumble
too loudly at night. The focus on bread here in our worship these weeks could,
in fact, mirror the real world’s focus on real bread, spurring us to consider
how we view food and how we might share from our abundance. Furthermore, a
steady diet of the same thing might force us to come to terms with how
necessary we really think Jesus is for life, or how central a choice he is on
our busy menus.
You see, the people who
followed Jesus in his day and age probably had the same type of relationship to
food and bread as those who live in developing nations today. There’s rarely
enough to go around, and you have to work hard just to get that. They encounter
Jesus as he miraculously feeds a multitude—or maybe they just hear about it—and
he is instantaneously popular. In fact, in the portion just prior to today’s
reading, they try to make him king. He manages to escape that plot, but they
track him down, no doubt looking for more bread. It is easy to understand their
M.O.: if this man can provide it so easily, then they need to find a way to
keep him around.
In fact, this whole episode
reminds them of the days their ancestors trudged through the wilderness and
survived on the bread their leader, Moses, provided bread for them. It was a
constant, never-failing supply, this strange manna. They didn’t really know
what it was, but they learned to receive it and live on it. Each morning they
would walk around picking it up, using just what they needed that day because
if they tried to collect more and save it, it would get wormy. The manna got
them where they needed to go, a day at a time.
Granted, it was not always
delicious. It was nothing like the sumptuous selections they supposedly fondly
remember from Egypt, but the manna was always there, and they didn’t have to do
anything to receive it, other than follow God’s instructions. And although they
probably could not explain why, they knew it satisfied them.
So it appears to them that
Jesus can provide the same kind of sustenance that Moses did, the same kind of
hope for survival, but it also appears they are missing the point on at least
two accounts. You see, Jesus has not come to give God’s people the kind of
bread that Moses did. In fact, Jesus has not come to bring us bread at all. Jesus
is here to be bread. God has rained
him down on us from heaven so that we may have life. His words, surely, are
something for us to live by, but it really goes beyond that. His actual life is
what humankind longs for: that is, a perfect devotion to God our Father, as
well as a pure compassion in community with each other.
Sin has left us empty,
starving. Jesus will be the feast that fulfills us at all times and in all
places…even when we betray him, when we turn our backs on him, when we look
elsewhere for spiritual nourishment. The crowds want him to given them this
bread always. On the cross, he will even die to make sure that will happen.
The second point they are
missing is that they don’t have to do anything to receive this bread of Jesus. It
is human nature to make faith into a work: to think that we must do something
to deserve the goodness of God. In this case, the people want to know—thinking
of their ancestors with those baskets—what they need to do for this bread to be
theirs. Do we need to perform daily devotions? Come to worship each week? Perform
a good deed each day? Say prayers every night? Get the kids in Sunday School? What
can we do to ensure we’ll get our share? What’s our end of the bargain and how
can we control, contain, commodify this bread that will never leave us hungry?
 |
| The feeding of the multitude |
In the questions of the
crowd, we hear our own deductions about how God works, that there is some hidden
this-for-that that we haven’t considered. But Jesus promises them that’s not
how his bread works. God simply provides it. Out of great love and a desire
that we flourish, God provides his Son, that we may have life. Trust in him is what
follows on our part—but it never depends on it. We don’t love Jesus and follow
him for the things he can provide us. We are to love and follow Jesus because
he alone is exactly what we need to truly live. Like the bread and the fish
that multiply without explanation, life with this person is so much greater
than without him, and we can’t always explain why.
The crowds misunderstood
Jesus and the bread he gave and therefore wanted a way to keep him around so
that he could keep on giving. Little did they know that he would find his own
way to stay present, tangible, real, right at the heart of their community. They
could gather and share another set of loaves. Again, inexplicably, he would be
there, multiplying forgiveness and love like he did the night before he died.
We have just had a week where
and awful lot of attention was given to eating. In this case, it two pieces of
bread with a piece of chicken in between. Next week it will probably be
something else. People assigned all kinds of social and political meaning to the
decision to eat at Chik-Fil-A or to boycott their food because of the actions
and words of the owner. Trust me: I am not going to wade into those dangerous
waters today or any day and tell anyone which restaurants they should or should
not patronize, but one thought did cross my mind.
Namely, what if people of God
on all sides of any issue were not primarily known by their participation in or
absence from a meal at a fast food chain, but instead by their association with
this meal? What if people of faith on either side of this issue made a bigger
deal about showing up for sustenance here, taking a place at a meal that
reminds us all of true freedom? Forget about the social or political statements
we make by eating or not eating at Chik-Fil-A. What about the bold statement you
proclaim weekly that you come here and nowhere else for nourishment, for
forgiveness, for hope? The world is often a wilderness, with people taking
sides, pointing fingers, sitting in judgment, and looking in all sorts of
places for the bread that lasts. Yet every week you line up to “eat more Jesus,”
and declare to the world that the bread of life has been given for you.
Thanks be to God!
The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr.
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