In the Bread of Life discourse in John 6, Jesus draws us into a challenging image with great practical and theological implications.
The Bread of Life discourse and our opportunity
Proper 15B | John 6:51-58
One of my least favorite words is flesh. It makes me cringe. Just like moist. And yet Jesus wants to talk about it. A lot. Over and over.
But not just flesh in the abstract. Eating it. Eating his flesh. Like we’re cannibals. Or carnivorous jungle cats. Or maybe zombies. Really, any of these work.
So obviously this is not my favorite passage in scripture.
But I’m also pretty confident (maybe 98% or so) that Jesus is not trying to drive me crazy. I feel like he’s got a different point to make.
Jesus compares himself to a loaf of bread.
We talked about this last week, but it is important to keep holding onto this. Jesus has given us an image that can’t be taken literally. But calling it a metaphor undersells it. Precisely because he is making a point about our bodies, our connection, and our commitments.
It is an image that he connects multiple times with their physical and institutional memories.
He is talking about himself as bread and directly linking it to the bread they ate yesterday. When God turned a couple fish and a few loaves into enough. When God fed the people their fill.
He compares this to the manna God used to feed the Hebrew people wandering in the wilderness. Again, when God provided a miraculous feeding. And one in which they were able to eat their fill.
This connection to these examples of bread and feeding isn’t merely spoken to. It isn’t a subtle allusion Jesus throws in there. He brings this up several times throughout this whole chapter of John. These are the metaphors for what Jesus is trying to teach! They reveal the point.
It isn’t just that Jesus is like a loaf of bread. He gives us these examples of God feeding people until they are full. So Jesus isn’t a fun-size Snickers. He’s more like the bottomless basket of breadsticks at Olive Garden. The place where you eat so many breadsticks and salad you hardly touch your dinner.
Then he keeps talking about eating his flesh.
Over and over. He repeats it.
Now, it is possible that Jesus is a writer belaboring a metaphor. Maybe he’s thinking I’ll keep repeating this until they all get it. It’s possible.
But there’s another reason the teacher might be so repetitive about eating his flesh and drinking his blood.
That he wants us to take him seriously. In the same way he wants us to see our turning away from sin and toward God like dying and being reborn. How baptism is a form of death and rebirth. Something far more significant than a mere “image” or example. Something on par with the genuine transformation of life.
This is a deep well Jesus is drawing from. It isn’t abstract or metaphorical. It is physical. Real. Because it is about our very lives.
Jesus points us to God.
We must never stray far from this idea. Because this is Jesus’s constant theme. His life and work is about God. He reveals God through himself. And this bread that he is, this source of sustenance, from whom we all may be filled, offers life, restoration, and love to the world by God’s grace.
But the thing is…
The people can’t figure out why Jesus is pointing.
As strange as it is to hear Jesus talking about people eating his flesh, the people hearing him say this were just as confused.
Like the crowds last week, who took him super literally, the religious leaders in this part are also doing the same. Their impulse is not to take this as metaphor.
It evokes Nicodemus from chapter 3 asking Jesus how he might be birthed a second time.
We’re sitting here, perhaps thinking along the same lines. And yet I dare say none of us is truly taking him literally. And if we are, it’s because we’ve jumped way far away from this conversation and are heading straight to communion.
But that isn’t really Jesus’s point, either.
I think we get to hear this exchange and see their response and picture Jesus trying to teach them. We get to benefit from their experience.
We get to see Jesus point to God and see what it’s like to miss the point. And, in a sense, I think that is our opportunity.
Would-be Wisdom
Consider the other opportunity we have to see what God is doing in the reading from 1 Kings. A story that seems full of joy and grace. As King David dies, his kingdom passes to his son, Solomon. Of course, David had other sons ahead of him in line. Only Solomon is left standing at the end. An outcome which he is not totally innocent of engineering.
The heartfelt exchange between Solomon and God, in which the new king requests wisdom and God expresses generosity, is uplifting, while also full of warning.
It points out that Solomon grew up not being faithful to God. And now God is giving him a chance. With the promise of his being faithful.
And if we keep reading, we will see that he isn’t. He’ll worship other gods and allow the people to do the same. He’ll amass enormous wealth while exploiting his own people—turning this united kingdom of Israel and Judah into the Egypt God saved them from. And he will amass and sell weapons, spreading violence throughout the region while impoverishing and subjugating his own people.
Solomon will build an empire. And ultimately, condemn his people.
The wisdom to know right and wrong that Solomon asks for is wasted on selfishness, power, and hubris. Like Adam and Eve, gaining the wisdom of knowing right and wrong is not the same as choosing to do good.
This is why I can’t help but also suspect that God knew this. Why God seems to honor Solomon’s request, but limit its effect. His heirs will suffer the consequences of his inevitable unfaithfulness.
Wisdom in the ancient world was about the accumulation of knowledge. Not necessarily being any good at discerning the right thing to do.
We get the opportunity to learn.
Not only what happened to previous generations, but why it was good and bad in the eyes of God. To learn that the reason God was generous with Solomon was because God loved David. And even why he loved David in spite of the king’s obvious shortcomings.
Because God is love.
God isn’t Solomon. Or the condoner or inspirer of Solomon’s behavior. But God is love.
God fed the people in the wilderness. When they were hangry and frustrated. When their snark turned to murderous rage at Moses. God fed them until they were full. Every day.
Because God is love.
God gave the crowds bread. Because they were hungry. Because Jesus took sympathy on them. They looked like sheep without a shepherd.
Because God is love.
God gave the world the Bread of Life. A rabbi, healer, and Messiah to reveal God’s love to the whole world. Who taught them to pray that every person may receive their daily bread. Not just a bite, or small portion, but their fill.
The whole world may be saved from starvation because we are that loaf of bread’s hands and feet. And we have the chance to help make all of creation whole.
Because God is love.
This week’s reflection: