A week has passed for each of us, but in the world of our Gospel text we are mere hours past the feeding of the five thousand. A sign, a wonder, a miraculous feast made up of a child’s rations, enough to feed thousands to fullness and still come away with leftovers to share with those who missed the moment. It’s been less than a day, an evening and a crossing of the sea have passed, and already the people are hungry again. We have ended up where we had begun, crowds of people with empty bellies and lots of demands. Incredibly simple, the basic human reality. We eat, and still return to being hungry. We drink, and still become thirsty. We seek, and even in finding we often lose our way. The human memory and the body’s cycles are both short-lived, constant loops of emptiness and fullness. The same people who had been fed by Jesus and become determined to crown him as king are now seeking him again, demanding signs and sustenance and proof that Jesus is who he claims to be. Having been fed, they come to him hungering. But this time, Jesus challenges them to look beyond the kind of hunger that always returns, beyond the kind of food that only fills them for a day.
Jesus responds to their questions with a pointed beginning to a mysterious lesson. This sermon or series of teachings by Jesus is known among scholars as the “Bread of Life discourse,” a series of passages in the Gospel of John in which Jesus uses metaphor, scripture, and dialogue to explain who he is and what God the Father is doing through his life and ultimately through his death and resurrection. Every few years, our lectionary gives us the opportunity to dwell in this Word together, to explore the different facets of Christ’s self-identity. Like the people who had been fed in the grassy field, we have come here today looking for Jesus. With them, we receive our next lesson.
First Jesus names the difficult truth that convicts these followers of their own misunderstanding. “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.” As the great preacher and Saint John Chrysostom interpreted, “It is not the miracle of the loaves that has struck you with wonder, but the being filled.” These people came after Jesus because they were hungry and had been filled, because they were running from their emptiness, not because a great work of power had been done in their sight. They had missed the holy wonder of the moment, valuing the end product above the means of its creation, seeking satisfaction instead of fulfilment. This is so often true of our own lives, as we approach Jesus as a way of getting what we want or consuming a product that fills us up temporarily. Our culture trains us to seek quick fixes, transactions, and entertainment, even in our religious spaces. Like the people who sought Jesus across the sea, we may be tempted to grasp at the food that perishes, the shallow faith that places happiness in the place of godliness. Jesus cautions us against working for that which will leave us hungry again very soon.
When challenged, his audience leans in and asks Jesus for direction. “What must we do to perform the works of God?” A very good question, one that I believe we as a faith community must ask ourselves daily as we discern the will of God in our midst. What must we do? Jesus answers them “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” Such a simple response, both enigmatic and crystal clear. The work of God is belief in Christ. And it is work, isn’t it? Belief, faith in Jesus, is more than claiming the list of truths in our creed or committing oneself to a particular community or religious practice. Belief itself, choosing Jesus as Jesus is constantly choosing us, is work. It is a constant struggle, an intentional choice to live differently, to love differently, to exist differently because God chose to live and love and die as one of us. This kind of work does not always bring us the satisfaction of the full belly, or the comfort of the grassy field, or the safety of the place set apart. The work of God, believing in the one whom God has sent like life-giving bread from heaven, is a labor that results not in wages to buy bread, but in the abolishment of hunger, a feast of food and drink made of the very love which brought us into being.
Still the seekers struggle, and we alongside them. “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” Show us then, Jesus. What miracle are you going to work for us so that we can believe you? They have conveniently forgotten that the cries for bread rose up in the wilderness amidst anger and fear and distrust in God. The people in the wilderness were truly hungry in their bodies, but more than that they were frightened, afraid of the lack of certainty they faced after leaving their bondage in Egypt, grieving their former “normal” and facing with dread the unknown future ahead of them. When they received the bread, they received “enough”, just enough for themselves and their families to be fed each day. If they tried to gather or save more than was needful, the excess spoiled and was no longer edible by nightfall. When they demanded more, meat along with their sustaining bread, it became clear that many of them were seeking after a God of their own wants and wishes, instead of pursuing that which is fulfilling and sustaining. The seekers likewise seek satisfaction for their wants, wonders and signs that will reassure them in the short term but leave them empty and hungering by the next day. Jesus looks into their ravenous faces and instead of a sign or a miracle, he gives them a promise of hope. Bread which will come down from heaven and give life to the world, true bread from God which sustains and creates. A murmur rising from the audience, a breathless prayer- “Sir, give us this bread always.”
And this is exactly what Jesus has done. “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
It is no small part of the work of discipleship to feed and be fed, to ensure the basic needs of every child of God are met. Jesus spent a good deal of his ministry feeding and sharing meals with people of all walks of life, eating and drinking everything from the modest fare of fishermen and widows to the lavish meals of tax collectors and community leaders. The hunger of our bodies is the same hunger that God felt in his body, and like us he preferred most often to eat in the company of those he loves. And when Jesus says that he is the bread of life, he does not just mean the bread of the table or even the bread of the altar. When Jesus says that whoever comes to him will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty, he does not just mean that our daily bread will be given to us. The bread of life is not simply another product to consume. To be full, to be fulfilled, is not the same as being satisfied. To be satisfied is a temporary state which requires constant striving to maintain. Fulfilment comes from the bread of heaven which gives life to the world, the bread of life which abolishes the scarcity and drives out the fear that ravages our world.
Do we come here to be satisfied, or to be fulfilled? Do we seek Jesus to fill our own emptiness, or to see all scarcity destroyed? What work do we come here to do? Dwell in these questions this week, and ask God’s blessing upon your hunger and thirst. The bread of life continues to challenge us to deeper work, calling us to echo the same ancient prayer- Lord, give us this bread. Amen.
Mother A Writes 