For the next number of Sundays we give our ears to the Gospel of John, Chapter Six. This is a great text of Scripture. It begins with the familiar story of the feeding of the multitude in the desert, as we just heard, calling to mind the wanderings of the 12 tribes of Israel in the wilderness on the way to the Promised Land; on this pilgrim way of old, the hunger of the people of God was met with manna sent from heaven by the same God who had liberated them from bondage in Egypt and promised to lead them to a dwelling place of freedom, justice and peace. In coming weeks, we listen in on the discourse of Jesus that follows His own feeding of the multitude, the Bread of Life discourse as it is called. Here Jesus calls himself the true Manna, the Bread of God come down from heaven to give eternal life the world; no longer the temporary bread, our daily bread for the body, but lasting bread, the bread of eternal life. In this fashion, John gives us his teaching on the meaning of the Holy Meal, the Lord’s Supper, the true Eucharist or Thanksgiving.
As we shall hear in coming weeks, the discourse builds until Jesus finally declares: “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” John tells us that this was a “hard saying,” that many who had followed Jesus to this point turned away; indeed, Jesus then asked the remaining disciples if they too would now leave him. Peter replies in the words we sing every time the gospel is read: “Lord to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” The words of eternal life are: “This is my body given for you. This is my blood shed for you.” Or, as John rephrases: Jesus is the Bread of heaven, who having come to set us from free bondage to sin and death, feeds us on the way to life in God forever.
It is an exceedingly rich theme. Consider for a moment how the church sings about it in hymns. Here is a random sampling from many such examples: “O living Bread from heaven , how well you feed your guest… for you O Lord have given, what earth could never buy, the bread of life from heaven, that now I shall not die…” (LBW 197) “I come O Savior to your table, for weak and weary is my soul. You, Bread of life alone are able to satisfy and make me whole…” (LBW 213) “O Bread of life from heaven, O food to pilgrims given, O Manna from above, Feed with the blessed sweetness of your divine completeness the souls that want and need your love” (LBW 222 ). “Bread of heaven, bread of heaven, Feed me now and ever more, feed me now and ever more.” (LBW 343). We sense the deep affection in these prayers, the warm emotion of faith expressed in such lyrics. What inspires it? How can it be ours?
Just as the Manna God sent from heaven had fed the twelve tribes during their wanderings, just as the prophet Elisha fed one hundred people with twenty loaves of barley bread, Jesus likewise feeds the hungry who have left behind the old world of sin and death but still wander into the wilderness on their stumbling way to the new and promised land. They gather on their pilgrim way around him and hear his promising word of the new world of God that awaits. Thus when the people ate and were satisfied, the disciples gathered up 12 baskets of leftovers, reminiscent of the 12 tribes of Israel, and so that when the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, "This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world."
They got it half right. They recognized that in feeding those pilgrims seeking God in the wilderness, speaks for God like Moses and Elisha as a prophet sent from God. But now there is a twist to the story in John’s telling. He writes that when Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself. The crowd got Jesus only half right. They thought the sign meant that Jesus would be their military liberator, like Moses or Joshua or David or Elijah of old, that Jesus would lead them in combat to regain their promised land lost to foreign occupiers, that Jesus would be their king who would lead a revolt against the occupying Romans. Sensing this, Jesus flees.
Why? How we see today that our afflicted earth does not need any more holy crusaders, wars in God’s name, Hezbollah, Hamas, Al-Qaeda, Isis. These Muslim names get our attention, but truth be told Christians have in history all too often thought to crusade in God’s name and under His blessing. But our suffering world surely does not need another warrior-king of any religion. What the world needs is different kind of king altogether, with a different kind of weapon than swords and chariots and tanks and hypersonic missiles and predator drones, with a different kind of life to offer than one of conquest and domination over others in a zero-sum turf war. So, not by accident in John’s telling, Jesus --who runs away from those who want to make him their kind of warrior king-- returns to disciples on a storm tossed boat. For here in the little company on the ark of faith, Jesus can reign truly, his own kind of king, as the merciful and saving Lord.
It was now dark… the sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. This little storm-tossed ship in the dark and dangerous night on the stormy sea is a figure of us, the church, the unlikely kingdom of Jesus in the world, the community of his disciples, those called out of the world, whether into the wilderness or onto the raging seas, nevertheless on the way to eternal life. So little, so alone, endangered, abandoned, in darkness, about to sink and forever disappear under the billowing waves, at the mercy of the raging wind, rowing hard but getting nowhere, wracked by fear. Who would go there? Indeed, the scene does not look like the glorious kingdom of the Messiah of God, this little storm tossed boat in the middle of threatening waves. But see the wonder! The very Jesus who fled the crowd that wanted to make him their kind of king instead comes to reign here instead. Manna in the wilderness! Safety in the storm! Here is where he wants to be, in the midst of the storm with his people, on the ship of the church tossed by the waves, present not to sight looking for a warrior king but to faith in his word casting out fear.
But he said to them, "It is I; do not be afraid." These are the words of eternal life which cast out fear, which feed the hungry on their pilgrim way, which still the storm. How can they do that? Who is this One who speaks? Why should his presence make this difference? “It is I.” Who is that? Jesus, yes indeed, but which Jesus? The One they wanted to make their king? No, the real Jesus fled from that. The Jesus who wants to be with his storm-tossed people, casting out their fear, delivering them safely to the other shore? Yes, that Jesus. That is the One. But how shall we know him? How shall we recognize him? How shall we meet him and greet him and receive him and abide in him, when the storm overwhelms and all our rowing seems futile and in vain.
The wonder of the coming of the eternal Word, the Son of God, into human flesh continues in the sacrament. “This my body given for you. This cup is the blood of the covenant poured out for you.” When Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me,” he did not mean, “Say, every so often when you happen to think about it or feel like it, perform this ritual.” His meaning is just the opposite. There are all sorts of ways people remember Jesus and all sorts of ways they want to use him, to make him their kind of king. Among all these ways, however, it is by pointing to bread broken for us, to wine poured out for us as signs of His cross, the church remembers Jesus as He really is, not just as a phenomenon of the historical past, but the living and life-giving one who comes to renew His promise and assure: “I am the true Bread of God come down from heaven for the life of the world.” Bread because like the grains of wheat crushed and milled and baked, I laid down my life to give you life. True Bread because the love for you which moved me to give myself for you is my Father’s love as well, who gave me the victory over death and grave, my Spirit’s love as well whom I send on you to cast out fear and inspire the courage of faith operative in love. I am not some vague and slippery ghost that people can use and abuse as they please. But I really am the One who gave his body and blood for you; forever I bear these scars by which you may recognize me. This is who I am. The Bread of Life who wants to be with his storm tossed people and brings them safe to the other shore. Amen.