Bread of Life
Giovanni Lanfranco, Miracle of the Bread and Fish, 1620-23, oil on canvas, National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin, public domain, click to link.
Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 58, John 6:1-14, 35, 41-54
Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. – John 6:35
In our journey through the Bible, we continue on through the fourth book of the New Testament, the Gospel of John. While Bible scholars emphasize how different John is from the three previous gospels, in one respect it is similar. In fact, the passage we are reading from today, “The Feeding of the Multitude,” is the only one of Jesus’ miracles recorded in all four gospels.
Scholars says that if you look back to the art of the early Church, then it becomes clearer how central this event was. One of the most popular visual representations of Jesus in the early years of the Church was the Feeding of the Multitude. Long before images of Christ crucified became popular, Christians were picturing him breaking the bread.[1]
A few weeks ago, I told you how John, in the way he framed Jesus’ words, drew an equals-sign between “belief”[2] in Jesus and the attainment of eternal life. Now, in chapter six, we read about a new aspect of the faithful life. John records Jesus saying, "unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you" (v. 53). This statement may seem odd, for it seems to run counter to the Protestant understanding that salvation comes by grace through faith alone. Why does this author portray Jesus adding a food and drink requirement to the life of faith?
Some commentators offer this reason: John was defending the Church against the influence of Christians known as “docetists.”[3] The Greek word “dokeo” means “to appear.” “Docetist” was the label applied to those who believed Jesus wasn’t really crucified, but rather “appeared” to die on the cross. Their rationale was that if Jesus really was divine, he could not suffer and die, for how could mere humans really harm God? The logic of the docetists helps us understand why they didn’t practice communion. They believed that it was wrong to believe that God’s blood was shed, or that God’s flesh was broken.
The majority point of view, in contrast to the Docetists, held that the humanity of Jesus was essential to his mission. As expressed by theologians of the early Church, if Jesus did not assume human flesh, then he is no savior of humanity, for “what is not assumed is not saved.” In the mind of the author of the Gospel of John, then, consuming bread and wine is essential as a sign of faith in a crucified Jesus, in a Jesus not only divine, but also human, who by the death of a material body could bring new life to the material world.
By the time of the Middle Ages, the threat of Docetism had largely faded away. The importance of a physically present and suffering Savior was central to Christian theology and central to worship in the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.[4] From the perspective of church leaders from whom our tradition sprang, the greatest danger surrounding the Lord’s Supper was the way it was wielded as a weapon of power. Sometimes the bread and wine were withheld from those unwilling to provide a certain kind of political allegiance or financial support. Sometimes the bread and wine were offered easily to those who engaged in the most unjust practices.
During the sixteenth-century Protestant Reformation, the sixth chapter of John was often the subject of fierce debate, some interpreting it literally, others figuratively.[5] What did it really mean to say the bread is Christ’s body, and cup is his blood? Under what circumstances was the sacrament a true mediator of God’s grace?
Even today, there are visible remnants of this fierce old debate. One is the very structure of the Revised Common Lectionary, which came into being early in my ministry. That schedule of Bible readings for worship devotes five Sundays in a row to this chapter. It may seem odd to preach about the bread of life on a non-communion Sunday. But if you’re in a church that often uses the lectionary, then it’s difficult to avoid, unless you’re in a congregation that celebrates the Lord’s Supper each and every Sunday.
Preaching about the bread of life on a non-communion Sunday offers the opportunity to go beyond the particular sacrament of the Lord’s Supper to think more broadly about sacramental things. For Protestant Christians there are two official sacraments: baptism and the Lord’s Supper. The Roman Catholic Church specifies five additional sacraments: Confirmation, Penance, Extreme Unction – anointing the sick or dying – Ordination, and Marriage. The difference between the two traditions invites us to think about different degrees of sacramental things. What events or experiences, though not necessarily recognized by the Church as sacrament, may still have for us a sacramental quality? What events or experiences may be for us, as the simple definition of “sacrament” states, “visible signs of an invisible grace.”
To think this way, says contemplative author C.V. Paintner, “extends our vision out to the world so that everything can be a sacrament, meaning every person, creature, plant, and object can be an opportunity to encounter something of the Divine Presence in the world …. This discovery that every creature and every created thing can be a window of revelation into the divine nature is an invitation to fall more and more in love with the world. To see that teachers of grace exist everywhere means to bring a sense of reverence to the way we walk in the world. When we encounter nature (or another person) as sacrament, we can no longer (easily) objectify it (and treat it poorly) . . . . Sacramental vision means not only that we grow in our love of God’s ways in the world but also that we grow in our sense of kinship with (humanity and) creation.”
Frederick Buechner, one of my favorite authors, once got to thinking this way, and wrote, “Sacramental moments can occur at any moment, at any place, and to anybody.”[6] At any seemingly ordinary moment, if we look around for the sacramental window, we may see and be grateful for extraordinary things. Today, there are sacramental moments …
as the Holy Spirit blesses this congregation’s life together beginning a new fall season, for something like the 204th time,
as we say goodbye and pray God’s blessing on nursery attendant Charis Coventry, after her service of two years,
as we celebrate 30 years service and the ongoing ministry of Robert Raymond,
as we share a meal at table with family and friends.
Yes, may our eyes be opened to recognize Jesus, the Bread of Life, right here with us today.
NOTES
[1] Cynthia M. Campbell, “Essential Question,” The Christian Century, 22 Aug. 2006, p. 16.
[2] e.g. John 3:16, 6:40, 6:47.
[3] Gerald Sloyan. John. Interpretation Commentary (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988), pp. 72-73.
[4] Williston Walker, A History of the Christian Church: Third Edition. Rev. by Robert Handy. (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1970), p. 248.
[5] This is not just a function of the Protestant Reformation, for even in the early Church there was no agreement. For more detail see the exegetical history of John 6 summarized by Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John I-XII. Anchor Bible Commentary (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Co., Inc. 1966), p. 272 ff.
[6] Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith, Harper San Francisco, 2004, p. 351.
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