Bread of Life
Sermon
God in the Present Tense
Cycle B Gospel Text Sermons for Pentecost Middle Third
Object:
One of the things you may have noticed about the four gospels is that each, in some way, addresses those who are victims.
The gospel of Mark addresses those who are victims of oppression. Mark says Jesus came to us, the strong Son of God, and immediately confronted the powers and principalities that harm human life. Jesus screamed at the wind and sea. He screamed at demons of mind and strength. He battled the very powers of hell. Even old death stretched out its claw to strike him down but in the end, Jesus is victorious over the powers that damage and oppress.
The gospel of Matthew is directed to victims of casual discipleship and to those who have forgotten the demands of being a Christian. For Matthew, Jesus is the teacher who makes difficult demands such as, "Turn the other cheek when one strikes you," "Enter by the narrow gate," "Do not hoard treasures on earth," and "Forgive your enemies." At the final judgment, the question that will distinguish the righteous from the unrighteous is the simple question, "How did you respond to human need?" In Matthew there are no shortcuts in living a holy life.
Luke's gospel is addressed to victims of amnesia, particularly to those who have forgotten that Christianity comes from the cradle of Judaism. Luke's story begins with the priest Zechariah in the temple. It ends with the disciples praising God in the temple. In between Jesus is born in King David's hometown. He is reared in the practices of Israel. When he preaches at the outset of his ministry, he says, "Everything I do has continuity with the prophets" (4:18-27). On Easter, the risen Lord says, "What I have done is fulfilling the story of Israel" (24:27). In other words, Christian faith is rooted in God's abiding covenant to God's people.
But John's gospel is addressed to a different kind of victim. He does not write to victims of harmful forces, victims of soft-edged faith, or victims who forget their heritage. Those whom John addresses are in a much different category. They are, quite simply, victims of religion.
I realize that this sounds strange. After all, isn't religion the business of the church? What have we come here to do but break bread, drink wine, and act as if we've heard a little bit of the gospel? Here we are practicing our religion. At least it certainly looks that way.
Yet it remains to be said that for the gospel of John the practices, the ceremonies, and the rules of religion have their shortcomings. There is a sense, says John, in which the practice of a religion becomes a substitute for authentic faith.
This is apparent as early as chapter 2. Jesus is at a wedding reception where the wine runs out. Standing nearby were six stone jars that the religious people used for some of their ceremonies. Each held twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said, "Fill them up with water." The servants did so. "Draw some out and serve it." The servants dipped in their ladles and drew out Manishewitz. Out of Jewish purification jars? That is like using the baptismal font as a punch bowl. The religious people were stunned into silence.
Soon thereafter, John says Jesus went to the temple, which was full of religious people. They were practicing what they believed, namely "to believe in God is to show a profit." Their hunger was for money. Jesus turned over the tables and drove them out. He drove the animals out and released the pigeons and shouted, "Get these things out of here! You will not turn God's sanctuary into a discount warehouse!" The religious people ground their teeth in rage and grumbled, "What right do you have to do this?" and it caused quite a stir.
Or some time later, there was a man who had been sick for 38 years. He was paralyzed on his bed beside the miracle pool called Bethzatha. Popular religion said, "The pool is charmed," like the horoscope that promises to get you through the day or the magnetic bracelet that promises to take away arthritis. Jesus went straight to the man and said, "Do you really want to get well?" The man whined, "I don't have anybody to put me in the miracle pool."
Jesus said, "Get up and walk!" The man stood and stretched and said, "I feel pretty good!" He began to walk. He started to dance. He picked up his mattress and waltzed down the street freed from the empty promises of popular religion.
Yet it was the sabbath, says John, so the religious people pounced in protest. "You are not following the rules," they said. "It's not right to dance on the sabbath, nor carry a mattress on the sabbath, nor enjoy anything on the sabbath."
Jesus declared, "This is God's work. Can't you see?" The religious people groused and grumbled. According to John's gospel, Jesus was not very interested in religion. He was more interested in God.
This is what lies beneath our text this morning. People flocked to Jesus after he fed a crowd of 5,000 with loaves of bread. "But you're only here because of your stomachs," says Jesus. "You follow me only to satisfy yourselves. Aren't you hungry for something more than food, for the kind of bread that doesn't go stale?"
"We don't know what you're talking about," said people in the crowd.
"But have you followed me, and you have not yet noticed this bread?"
"What bread?" asked the crowd. "Are you talking about whole wheat or rye?" "Neither," said Jesus, "I'm talking about the real bread, which the Father gives you from heaven."
"Oh," said the crowd, "You mean like the manna that God gave to Israel in the wilderness?"
"No," said Jesus, "I'm not talking about bread. I'm talking about real bread; that is, to know God. That's the bread that gives life. Nothing else. Don't get sidetracked by anything else."
It is so easy to get sidetracked. In a certain town, there was a congregation called The Church of the Squeaking Wheel. Its theme verse, which no one could ever quite find in the Bible, was "Behold, blessed is the wheel that squeaks, for it shall always get the grease." The principal committee was the Task Force on the Wagon, usually called the Wagoneers.
It happened that a stranger came to town and said, "I want to join this church. What must I do?"
"Just say, 'I want to be a member,' " she was told, "and we will receive you." So she did and they did.
The next week, the new member asked, "What do you want me to do?" The answer she received as simple: "Help us keep the wagon going."
The next week, she asked, "What do we haul in the wagon?" Her question was met with a blank stare and the words, "You are new here, aren't you?"
A month later, she went to the moderator of the Task Force on the Wagon and asked again, "What do we haul in the wagon?" The head wagoneer answered, "I don't know. But we keep the wagon in good shape. If something breaks, we fix it. If something squeaks, we grease it."
And it came to pass that the stranger spent the next twenty years of her life fixing and greasing. But once in a while, deep down inside, she asked herself, "Is this all there is?"1
It is a hundred times easier for a church to maintain the machinery than carry any cargo. When we pay attention only to the practice of maintaining a religion, we may be carrying no freight. We might get accustomed to that. The only problem is that once in a while we find ourselves asking, "Is this all there is?"
Jesus said, "I come to offer bread, not cake. What I offer is not secondary. It is absolutely essential. I offer you life itself, which is the opportunity to learn of the Father. No one has seen the Father, except the one who came from above. I will show you the Father. Are you hungry for that?"
Why do people come to church? Do they come because they are hungry?
It was 10:00 one night when a traveler knocked on my back door to ask, "Pastor, can I have something to eat?" So I pulled two boxes of macaroni and cheese out of the cupboard and gave them to the man. He looks at me and asks, "Is this it?" Do you suppose he might be satisfied if I gave him three boxes of macaroni and cheese? Four, five, or six? No. He wanted food but food did not satisfy him.
Why do people come to church? Do they come because of hunger? I don't know if it is the case here, but I would guess some people come to church for purely religious reasons. Perhaps they hope the church office keeps records of attendance on Sundays and that Big Brother will know they have been in the sanctuary. The hunger is to have a check-mark by the name, to prove one's attendance. Does that satisfy our every hunger? Does it really satisfy?
I recall what the Dutch priest Henri Nouwen once wrote about the Lord's Supper. "It's not quite enough," he said.
We eat bread, but not enough to take our hunger away; we drink wine, but not enough to take our thirst away; we read from a book, but not enough to take our ignorance away. Around these "poor signs" we come together and celebrate. The simple signs, which cannot satisfy all our desires, speak first of all of God's absence. He has not yet returned; we are still on the road, still waiting, still hoping, still expecting, still longing. We gather around the table with bread, wine, and a book to remind each other of the promise we have received and so to encourage each other to keep waiting in expectation for his return. But even as we affirm his absence we realize that he already is with us.2
Once in our family pew, my little sister leaned over to affirm the same truth. As she grabbed a little bread cube from the communion plate, she whispered, "You know, they are awfully skimpy on the bread." She was hungry for something -- for Someone -- greater than bread. All of us have that hunger.
Jesus is the One who says, "I am the bread of life, the bread from heaven. Whoever comes to me shall not hunger, for I come to reveal the Father. And what I show of the Father will satisfy every human need."
The question is: Do we really want that? Do we really want to know what God is like? Do we want to be satisfied so deeply that we will never again go hungry, even if we are without bread and water?
The promise of the gospel is that Jesus offers a banquet for body and soul. As surely as he provides our daily bread, he reveals the heart and mind of God. We may gather religiously for our observances, to pray and sing, to receive and offer, to speak and listen, to light the candles and share the bread and cup. All of those things are important to us but they are only the appetizers.
What we really want is God. It is God who brings us alive. Amen.
__________
1. Author unknown.
2. Henri Nouwen, The Living Reminder: Service and Prayer in the Memory of Jesus Christ (San Francisco: Harper & Row Publishers, 1984), 45-46.
The gospel of Mark addresses those who are victims of oppression. Mark says Jesus came to us, the strong Son of God, and immediately confronted the powers and principalities that harm human life. Jesus screamed at the wind and sea. He screamed at demons of mind and strength. He battled the very powers of hell. Even old death stretched out its claw to strike him down but in the end, Jesus is victorious over the powers that damage and oppress.
The gospel of Matthew is directed to victims of casual discipleship and to those who have forgotten the demands of being a Christian. For Matthew, Jesus is the teacher who makes difficult demands such as, "Turn the other cheek when one strikes you," "Enter by the narrow gate," "Do not hoard treasures on earth," and "Forgive your enemies." At the final judgment, the question that will distinguish the righteous from the unrighteous is the simple question, "How did you respond to human need?" In Matthew there are no shortcuts in living a holy life.
Luke's gospel is addressed to victims of amnesia, particularly to those who have forgotten that Christianity comes from the cradle of Judaism. Luke's story begins with the priest Zechariah in the temple. It ends with the disciples praising God in the temple. In between Jesus is born in King David's hometown. He is reared in the practices of Israel. When he preaches at the outset of his ministry, he says, "Everything I do has continuity with the prophets" (4:18-27). On Easter, the risen Lord says, "What I have done is fulfilling the story of Israel" (24:27). In other words, Christian faith is rooted in God's abiding covenant to God's people.
But John's gospel is addressed to a different kind of victim. He does not write to victims of harmful forces, victims of soft-edged faith, or victims who forget their heritage. Those whom John addresses are in a much different category. They are, quite simply, victims of religion.
I realize that this sounds strange. After all, isn't religion the business of the church? What have we come here to do but break bread, drink wine, and act as if we've heard a little bit of the gospel? Here we are practicing our religion. At least it certainly looks that way.
Yet it remains to be said that for the gospel of John the practices, the ceremonies, and the rules of religion have their shortcomings. There is a sense, says John, in which the practice of a religion becomes a substitute for authentic faith.
This is apparent as early as chapter 2. Jesus is at a wedding reception where the wine runs out. Standing nearby were six stone jars that the religious people used for some of their ceremonies. Each held twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said, "Fill them up with water." The servants did so. "Draw some out and serve it." The servants dipped in their ladles and drew out Manishewitz. Out of Jewish purification jars? That is like using the baptismal font as a punch bowl. The religious people were stunned into silence.
Soon thereafter, John says Jesus went to the temple, which was full of religious people. They were practicing what they believed, namely "to believe in God is to show a profit." Their hunger was for money. Jesus turned over the tables and drove them out. He drove the animals out and released the pigeons and shouted, "Get these things out of here! You will not turn God's sanctuary into a discount warehouse!" The religious people ground their teeth in rage and grumbled, "What right do you have to do this?" and it caused quite a stir.
Or some time later, there was a man who had been sick for 38 years. He was paralyzed on his bed beside the miracle pool called Bethzatha. Popular religion said, "The pool is charmed," like the horoscope that promises to get you through the day or the magnetic bracelet that promises to take away arthritis. Jesus went straight to the man and said, "Do you really want to get well?" The man whined, "I don't have anybody to put me in the miracle pool."
Jesus said, "Get up and walk!" The man stood and stretched and said, "I feel pretty good!" He began to walk. He started to dance. He picked up his mattress and waltzed down the street freed from the empty promises of popular religion.
Yet it was the sabbath, says John, so the religious people pounced in protest. "You are not following the rules," they said. "It's not right to dance on the sabbath, nor carry a mattress on the sabbath, nor enjoy anything on the sabbath."
Jesus declared, "This is God's work. Can't you see?" The religious people groused and grumbled. According to John's gospel, Jesus was not very interested in religion. He was more interested in God.
This is what lies beneath our text this morning. People flocked to Jesus after he fed a crowd of 5,000 with loaves of bread. "But you're only here because of your stomachs," says Jesus. "You follow me only to satisfy yourselves. Aren't you hungry for something more than food, for the kind of bread that doesn't go stale?"
"We don't know what you're talking about," said people in the crowd.
"But have you followed me, and you have not yet noticed this bread?"
"What bread?" asked the crowd. "Are you talking about whole wheat or rye?" "Neither," said Jesus, "I'm talking about the real bread, which the Father gives you from heaven."
"Oh," said the crowd, "You mean like the manna that God gave to Israel in the wilderness?"
"No," said Jesus, "I'm not talking about bread. I'm talking about real bread; that is, to know God. That's the bread that gives life. Nothing else. Don't get sidetracked by anything else."
It is so easy to get sidetracked. In a certain town, there was a congregation called The Church of the Squeaking Wheel. Its theme verse, which no one could ever quite find in the Bible, was "Behold, blessed is the wheel that squeaks, for it shall always get the grease." The principal committee was the Task Force on the Wagon, usually called the Wagoneers.
It happened that a stranger came to town and said, "I want to join this church. What must I do?"
"Just say, 'I want to be a member,' " she was told, "and we will receive you." So she did and they did.
The next week, the new member asked, "What do you want me to do?" The answer she received as simple: "Help us keep the wagon going."
The next week, she asked, "What do we haul in the wagon?" Her question was met with a blank stare and the words, "You are new here, aren't you?"
A month later, she went to the moderator of the Task Force on the Wagon and asked again, "What do we haul in the wagon?" The head wagoneer answered, "I don't know. But we keep the wagon in good shape. If something breaks, we fix it. If something squeaks, we grease it."
And it came to pass that the stranger spent the next twenty years of her life fixing and greasing. But once in a while, deep down inside, she asked herself, "Is this all there is?"1
It is a hundred times easier for a church to maintain the machinery than carry any cargo. When we pay attention only to the practice of maintaining a religion, we may be carrying no freight. We might get accustomed to that. The only problem is that once in a while we find ourselves asking, "Is this all there is?"
Jesus said, "I come to offer bread, not cake. What I offer is not secondary. It is absolutely essential. I offer you life itself, which is the opportunity to learn of the Father. No one has seen the Father, except the one who came from above. I will show you the Father. Are you hungry for that?"
Why do people come to church? Do they come because they are hungry?
It was 10:00 one night when a traveler knocked on my back door to ask, "Pastor, can I have something to eat?" So I pulled two boxes of macaroni and cheese out of the cupboard and gave them to the man. He looks at me and asks, "Is this it?" Do you suppose he might be satisfied if I gave him three boxes of macaroni and cheese? Four, five, or six? No. He wanted food but food did not satisfy him.
Why do people come to church? Do they come because of hunger? I don't know if it is the case here, but I would guess some people come to church for purely religious reasons. Perhaps they hope the church office keeps records of attendance on Sundays and that Big Brother will know they have been in the sanctuary. The hunger is to have a check-mark by the name, to prove one's attendance. Does that satisfy our every hunger? Does it really satisfy?
I recall what the Dutch priest Henri Nouwen once wrote about the Lord's Supper. "It's not quite enough," he said.
We eat bread, but not enough to take our hunger away; we drink wine, but not enough to take our thirst away; we read from a book, but not enough to take our ignorance away. Around these "poor signs" we come together and celebrate. The simple signs, which cannot satisfy all our desires, speak first of all of God's absence. He has not yet returned; we are still on the road, still waiting, still hoping, still expecting, still longing. We gather around the table with bread, wine, and a book to remind each other of the promise we have received and so to encourage each other to keep waiting in expectation for his return. But even as we affirm his absence we realize that he already is with us.2
Once in our family pew, my little sister leaned over to affirm the same truth. As she grabbed a little bread cube from the communion plate, she whispered, "You know, they are awfully skimpy on the bread." She was hungry for something -- for Someone -- greater than bread. All of us have that hunger.
Jesus is the One who says, "I am the bread of life, the bread from heaven. Whoever comes to me shall not hunger, for I come to reveal the Father. And what I show of the Father will satisfy every human need."
The question is: Do we really want that? Do we really want to know what God is like? Do we want to be satisfied so deeply that we will never again go hungry, even if we are without bread and water?
The promise of the gospel is that Jesus offers a banquet for body and soul. As surely as he provides our daily bread, he reveals the heart and mind of God. We may gather religiously for our observances, to pray and sing, to receive and offer, to speak and listen, to light the candles and share the bread and cup. All of those things are important to us but they are only the appetizers.
What we really want is God. It is God who brings us alive. Amen.
__________
1. Author unknown.
2. Henri Nouwen, The Living Reminder: Service and Prayer in the Memory of Jesus Christ (San Francisco: Harper & Row Publishers, 1984), 45-46.
