Eighth Pentecost
John 6:24-35
She called, out of the blue, the other day to talk to one of
our sons. Late summer, friends are gone or have gotten boring. She had worked
with Tim on some project or other in high school and she just wanted to get
together to catch up, have supper. So he went over to pick her up. She wasn’t
ready but her step mom was there to chat and pass the time. Typical opener for
college students, “So what are your future plans?’ He told her. Oh
well that’s a good thing to do. After all it’s all about bringing
in the money isn’t it? That’s what it’s all about after all isn’t
it, being able to have all that you want.’
All that you want. Stuff.
George Carlin has a great comedy sketch about stuff. He talks about acquiring and accumulating stuff. And then needing to buy more stuff to hold the stuff we have and then needing to have bigger places to hold the stuff that’s holding all our stuff. And then having so much stuff we can’t use it all so then we have to buy extra places to store the stuff that we don’t even use.
That’s what it’s all about isn’t it? The bread that satisfies.
I feel rather foolish even beginning my sermon
for a lazy summer Sunday with such an obvious point. You wouldn’t be here
today if you didn’t already know that “stuff” is not the bread
that satisfies. You wouldn’t be here today if you didn’t already understand
that our deepest needs and hungers will not be fed with a black Ferrari, Gucci
gown, a full length sable coat Those things might be nice, we might even have
them but you know as well as I do that that is the bread that perishes.
But then you’re not the crowds that were clamoring after the guy who just
managed to feed 5,000 people with five loaves and three fishes. Those crowds
expected a whole lot more of that. They were thinking, “If we could just
market that food production process, patent it—wow then we’d be in
bread forever. Or barring an exclusive on the process maybe we could just market
the guy who performs that little slight of hand. Publicize him, polish the image,
get rid of that Hicksville Nazareth demeanor, present him to some people who
really matter, maybe the Romans—it would be worth millions. We’d never
be in want again—Bread for life.
Clearly Jesus isn’t happy with these folks. “You’re looking for me, not because you saw God at work, but because you filled your bellies. Jesus might just as well have asked “Why do you keep working for the food that perishes when you can be filled with the food that endures for all time?” Why do you think that your hunger will be satisfied when your belly is full?
What is the hunger that will not be filled with
the bread that perishes? The hunger that is not satisfied so easily? Do we hunger,
do we long for the knowledge, the assurance that we are loved? Do we hunger
to know that our existence is not in vain, that there is meaning and purpose
to our lives? Do we hunger for a connection to something than greater, something
that transcends, getting up, going to work, eating sleeping and then doing it
all again? Before we are fed, we know hunger.
The people say to Jesus “What must we do?’ there are just two problems
with the question. The first is that it puts the emphasis back on us. What can
we do? And the second is that it assumes action. What can we do?
Jesus answer challenges both of the assumptions
that the people make. In so many words he says “Believe in me.” What
is important is not you, get this not your ability, your intelligence, your
creativity, your success, your prowess, your imagination, your courage. It’s
not about you, number one-- and it’s not about what you do, number two.
There’s no tally of credits, no record of deeds, no tabulation of good
works. We cannot ultimately satisfy our own needs.
Jesus says “Believe in me.’ Jesus says “I am the Bread of life.”
The writer Nikos Kazantzakis says, in Report to
Greco: "Every one of my emotions, moreover, and every one of my ideas,
even the most abstract, is made up of these four primary ingredients. Within
me, the most metaphysical problem takes on a warm physical body which smells
of sea, soil, and human sweat. The Word, in order to touch me, must become warm
flesh. Only then do I understand —when I can smell, see, and touch."2
I mulled that little quote over for a long time. I suppose that there are some
who can make their lives in the heady world of ideas, of suppositions and propositions
but most of us need the warmth of a tender touch, the gentle sound of the rain,
Jesus is the warm, freshly baked bread that touches, satisfies, and fills our
hungers. His "warm flesh" opens our lives, hearts, and eyes to the
wonders of the God who so graciously feeds us.
This Jesus is the physical embodiment of the God who has always satisfied the hungry hearts of Israel. He is the Bread of Life in a way that does not deny our physical and spiritual needs but rather fulfills them to our deepest contentment.
We are fed by having faith in this Jesus, the
human one who feeds and nourishes us. Jesus uses very physical, common elements
to point us to God and to satisfy our needs.
There is no question that the gospel writer John wanted to solidify the connection
between Jesus’ words and the sacrement we are about to receive. Jesus is
not a metaphysical idea. Jesus is not a concept. Jesus is as real as bread.
As close as our sight, our touch, our taste, our smell. During the reformation
a favorite axiom of Martin Luthers was the phrase, the finite is capable of
the infinite, God is in Jesus Christ aa living breathing human being. And Christs
poresence is in the bread of life.
As we receive the sacrament this morning we do not feed our selves but we are
fed as Christ body is broken for us.
Amen.