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| "food1" by bigbrand ., on Flickr |
John 6:35, 41-51
Jesus said to [the crowd,] “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. Then the Jews began to complain about him because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.”
They were saying, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” Jesus answered them, “Do not complain among yourselves. No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day. It is written in the prophets, ‘And they shall all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me. Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father. Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life.
I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”
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Rachel Held Evans begins one of the middle chapters of her latest book, Searching for Sunday, with the sentence, “I didn’t know I was hungry.”
Having left the church of her youth and having not yet found a church to call “home,” she recalls how, on a book tour, she was welcomed, supported, and fed by a wide variety of churches across the country:
The Methodists of Jackson, Tennesee, served barbecue and coleslaw at their women’s retreat. The Baptists of Houston, Texas, brought in food trucks so we could picnic over Tex-Mex on the church lawn. I threw back shots of tequila with a van full of Presbyterian pastors as our taxi sped along the coastline of Cozumel, Mexico. I tried the iced cowboy coffee at Common Grounds in Waco, while a gaggle of Baylor University students waited for the thumbs-up.For Rachel, it took be fed, over and over again, with good food, good community, and the love of Christ, to realize that she had been hungry.
In Grand Rapids, a reader named Caroline handed me a stack of salted dark chocolate chip cookies tied up in a baby-blue bow, which made such an impression I now know the recipe by heart. In Seattle, Pastor Tim and his husband Patrick served up fresh salmon with avocado mango salsa, asparagus, quinoa, and local red wine. In Bolivia, a guinea pig farmer welcomed our team of World Vision bloggers into her one-room home with a meal of boiled potatoes, which we passed around like communion bread. In Hope, Michigan, the Dutch Reformed grilled up hot dogs and hamburgers and sent me home with a pair of wooden shoes.
I shared homemade bread and jam with the Quakers of Portland, shrimp and grits with the Wesleyan Foundation of Williamsburg, macaroni and cheese with the Mennonites of Harrisonburg, Virginia, and melt-in-your-mouth roasted chicken and mashed potatoes with the Dominican nuns of Siena Heights. The Free Methodists of Greenville, Illinois, introduced me to Adam Brothers homemade chicken noodle soup, for which i still get insatiable cravings whenever I’m sick. The Disciples of Christ took me to my first In-N-Out Burger, where I pretended to have the religious experience they expected. I even ate blueberry pancakes at the White House, where, at the annual Easter Prayer Breakfast, civil rights leader Otis Moss gave the best sermon on Resurrection I’ve ever heard in my life. I dined with rocket scientists and musicians, Bible scholars and activists, rabbis and priests, monks and nuns, the homeless and the wealthy, professional chefs and home cooks. I may have gained a few pounds.
Isn’t that just how it is for us sometimes? That we don’t realize our hunger until we’ve been fed? Those times that we order food at a restaurant, and when it arrives, inhale everything on our plates in five minutes flat, without meaning to, and then commenting to ourselves, “Huh, I guess I was hungry.” Or those times that you grab a granola bar for a snack, and once you’ve finished it, you’ve awakened the hunger in your belly and now want to eat everything else in sight. Or maybe I’m the only one who’s ever done these things…
Jesus said to the crowd, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
I think that everybody is hungry for something. I also think that we often don’t realize just how hungry we are until we are given a taste of the food that satisfies.
The manna in the wilderness was a miracle, no disputing that. Jesus knows that, for his listeners, manna is the prevailing symbol for God’s provision in their hunger. And yet, how quick these crowds are to forget that even though the manna satisfied the bellies of their Israelite ancestors, it did not satisfy their spirits.
Instead of enduring gratitude for the provision of God, it was not very long before the Israelites started grumbling at Moses once again, saying “Oh that we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt that cost nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic. But now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to look at.”
Last week, many of you turned in your Connection Cards with answers to the questions, “What does ‘having enough’ mean to me?” and “What is keeping me from being satisfied with what I have?” I was humbled by your honest responses to those questions, and especially to that second question. Because most all of you confessed that, even though you had enough manna in your lives, you were still hungry for meat and fish, leeks and onions, garlic, cucumbers, and melons. Whether because of advertising or ego, pressure from family to succeed or physical limitations that hold you back, you were honest about your struggle to keep your spirits satisfied.
Jesus has more than manna to offer to the crowds. And he has more than manna to offer to us. Jesus fed the five thousand in a reckless sign of both power and generosity, and yet he even has more than a miracle to offer to us.
“Your ancestors at manna in the desert and they still died. You ate your fill of the bread and fish and you will still be hungry.” Jesus points out. “But I am here to offer you the bread of eternal life.”
Jesus doesn’t just give us food. Jesus gives us himself as food. Theologian N.T. Wright says, “When [Jesus] wanted fully to explain what his forthcoming death was all about, he didn’t give a theory. He didn’t even give them a set of scriptural texts. He gave them a meal.” (Simply Jesus)
For Rachel Held Evans, all the food that was shared with her was food, yes, but more than food. It was the food of faith, the food of the love of brothers and sisters in Christ. It was food that satisfied her hungry belly, but also satisfied her soul, which was hungry for a taste of Christ himself. It was communion. A feast that reminded her of just how hungry she really was for God’s mercy and sustenance.
When we celebrate communion each week, we believe and trust that what we are receiving is not bread and wine, but Jesus himself. This meal for us is the food that endures for eternal life. It is a foretaste of the feast to come. It is a little bite and a small sip of the food that satisfies.
And this meal does two things.
It soothes our hunger. For in this meal we receive real grace, tangible mercy, tastable forgiveness, sip-able assurance of our salvation. We receive Jesus himself, just as he promised, the bread of life that he gives for the life or the world.
But this meal also makes us hungry for hope. If this meal is a foretaste of the feast to come, then it is a taste of the world as it ought to be, where all are fed, where peace prevail, where we are brothers and sisters with one another and all creation. And this little taste of eternity makes us hungry for God’s kingdom when we leave the table.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, Jesus says in the Beatitudes. Blessed are those who hunger for justice and peace. Blessed are those who hunger for reconciliation. Blessed are those who hunger for the well-being of their neighbors and enemies alike. Blessed are those who hunger for God’s kingdom.
As you look around the world, what is it that our world is hungry for? What are the unmet physical needs that leave people feeling like they are on the outside of God’s abundance? What are the hunger pangs of oppression and injustice that leave our brothers and sisters feeling empty? What are the emotional burdens that leave our neighbors hungry for love or hope or peace that this world cannot give?
Since the start of this stewardship focus, we have talked about the gifts we have, the barriers to sharing those gifts, and now the needs of the world. In the last two weeks, we will start to look more deeply at God’s invitation to share his abundance, that all hunger might be satisfied and all people might find their place at God’s overflowing table.
I pray that this week, God might continue open your eyes to the hungers of the world, that the Spirit might continue to spur you on toward generosity toward one another, and that Christ’s body and blood might not just sustain your spirit, but make your spirit hungrier and hungrier for the kingdom of God.
Question for reflection:
What is our world hungry for?
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