Scripture Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15
The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness. The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the pots of meat and ate our fill of bread, for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.”
Then the Lord said to Moses, “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day. In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not.”
Then Moses said to Aaron, “Say to the whole congregation of the Israelites: ‘Draw near to the Lord, for he has heard your complaining.’” And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud. The Lord spoke to Moses, “I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.’ ”
In the evening quails came up and covered the camp, and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the layer of dew lifted, there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat.”
Scripture John 6:24-35
So when the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus. When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.” Then they said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us, then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’ ” Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”
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.”
Sermon “Bread from Heaven”
A funny thing happened the other morning. I was having breakfast with a group of clergy women, friends and colleagues from different denominations, who have been meeting for breakfast for something like 15 years. I’ve been away, and it was my first time back. We were talking about communion, the Lord’s Supper. One of my friends, Lisa, said that she remembered as a child walking into a room where her younger cousin—maybe five years old—was holding a small ceramic bowl, and lifting it over her head, eyes gazing up. I said—"Oh, my brother and I played mass!” simultaneously with the other two women at the table chiming in. Apparently, we had all played “Communion” at home when we were very young. Rose said, “Oh yes—we used Nilla Vanilla wafers!” Janet said, “We used Sweet Tarts!” And I said, “Oh man, I wish my brother and I had thought of using cookies or candy. We squished white bread flat and cut it into circles.”
I am still pondering this. I didn’t check out this theory, but I have a feeling we all did this before we were permitted to take communion. I had my First Communion at age seven. For my friends, they were probably anywhere between seven and twelve or thirteen years old. But we, all of us, witnessed the adults or older siblings in our lives walking forward, or being served in their seats, and receiving bread that we knew was somehow special, different, more than the regular bread our parents used to make our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Something about this special bread called to us, even before we’d had it ourselves. Something made us long for that bread—and, whether we knew it or not, to long for Jesus.
We are in John’s gospel this morning, picking up almost exactly where Pastor Lea left off, and the subject is bread. As Pastor Lea preached, it all starts with Jesus and the disciples feeding a crowd of about five thousand people. They were fed thanks to the generosity of a boy, who had some loaves of bread and some fishes, as well as by a miracle—John calls it, a sign—performed by Jesus. That small amount went a long way, with food to spare after all had eaten their fill.
Now it is the next day, and the massive crowd once again is looking for Jesus. The word used here is the same word used when the soldiers are looking for Jesus to arrest him. [1] There is a sense of urgency in the crowd. They need to find Jesus. Like four little girls who thought a certain bread was special, they are longing for that bread. And whether they know it or not, they are also longing for Jesus.
Jesus has some stern words for the people, once they find him. You’re looking for me, he says, because you ate the bread, and you were nice and full. That kind of food doesn’t last, he tells them. Look for the food that will give you eternal life. That phrase, eternal life, has specific meaning to us as Christians. We tend to believe it is speaking of a future promise of life with God, beyond our physical existence here on earth, and that is certainly a part of it. But in addition to life without end, that word also means life even before the beginning—existing far before we did, even before the man, Jesus, who walked the earth did. It’s a promise of life and love that is larger than we are, larger than our little lives, larger, even, than the universe itself—and older, too. The promise of eternal life is a promise for now. Abundant life is life soaked in the love of God. Life that began even before we were little children and longed for special bread. Before we were plunged into the waters of baptism or had them poured or sprinkled on our heads. Before we were born or even conceived. That kind of life. That kind of love. That magnitude.
People are always misunderstanding Jesus, in all the gospels, but especially in the gospel according to John. Jesus said, “work for the bread that lasts,” and his listeners ask him to tell them exactly what kind of work they should do. They remind him of the manna their ancestors ate when they were wandering in the wilderness, which, of course, is a different kind of story altogether.
Those who ate manna in the wilderness had only recently gained their freedom from enslavement by the Egyptian Pharaoh. They were exhausted and hungry, and the food supply was perilously low. They let Moses know how unhappy they were with that. God replied by providing them with both meat (quails) and what you might think of as a bread substitute: manna.
I did a bit of reading up on manna this week. Its name is said to come from the Hebrew question, “Man hu,” meaning “What is it?” But it’s more likely that the meaning of the sentence is “It is aphids.” Aphids produce a sweet, sticky honeydew which is crystallized as it dries, and looks much like the Biblical story describes manna—a fine, flaky substance on the ground, that tastes kind of like honey. This also happens to correlate with the current believe of scientists who have been asked to weigh in on what the manna might be,
I read a sermon online this week that began with the following story. The speaker’s name is Dana Cassell.
Years ago, my friend Sam taught this story of manna in the wilderness to kids at a summer camp by tossing Frosted Flakes across the big field at dawn and telling the freshly awoken campers that this was breakfast. I don’t remember how the kids reacted, but I suspect it was something akin to the original reaction of the liberated Israelites: disbelief, disgust, complaint. [2]
This is, obviously the reason I offered nice little baggies of Frosted Flakes. Here's the thing about manna. It was a substitute, a substitute for bread. It was a gift from God via a process of nature which, according to scripture, was eaten for a full forty years. Which is a very long time. Even the sweetest natural ground-wafer was bound to be tiresome at some point. I don’t deny the miracle and I don’t dismiss the wondrous provision of God in dire circumstances. I do believe that what Jesus had on offer in the gospel of John was different. It wasn’t a substitute for other, better food. Jesus was offering the most wondrous thing we can imagine: full, abundant life. Jesus was offering himself.
Jesus responds to that reminder of the manna in the wilderness by reminding the people that God provided and provides. He says, “it is my Father who gives you true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”
And then Jesus says something that had to be, at the very least, startling. He says, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Jesus has come to bring life.
What a thing to say. Of course, Jesus was speaking to living, breathing people. But I believe it’s possible exist without really living. We can exist and find that we are simply marking time through our day-to-day routine. We can exist and find that we are longing for something deeper—a deeper connection, a deeper understanding, a deeper life.
This is what our faith offers us. This is what the meal we will share in a few minutes offers us. We gather around the table, as Jesus asked his followers to do, because we are his followers, too. We gather hear his words again—those mysterious words he uttered the night before he died—this is my body, this is my blood. We gather around this table and realize: Jesus is offering us his life, life eternal. He offers us an abundance of life that begins now, and connects us—gives us communion—not only with Jesus, not only with God, but with one another. He offers us an answer to our deepest longing: to be one with the one whose name is love. To live out that love every day. To know that we are held by that love every moment.
It’s funny, the things we don’t even know we’re longing for. But I am convinced that longing is inside every one of us, and it is one reason we find ourselves here today. So, join me at the table, where Jesus’ offer of his own life to enrich, ground, and deepen ours is made real. Taste and see that the Lord is good. Abide and know that God is love. Remember your longing for the bread, and for Jesus, and know that he will meet us here.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[1] Beth Birkholz, “Former Pastor” Substack: GFTW (Greek for the Week), John 6:24-35, July 31, 2024, https://formerpastor.substack.com/p/gtfw-john-624-35.
[1]Dana Cassel, “Dana, Defrocked” Substack: grumbling and grief (on Exodus 16), July 29, 2024, https://substack.com/home/post/p-147126938.