John 6:25-59 · Jesus the Bread of Life
Soul Food
John 6:25-59
Sermon
by Larry Goodpaster
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We have become, for the most part, very visual people. We watch body language, study facial expressions, look at moving pictures and stare at live-action shots in order to absorb what is happening. We would rather see a motion picture than read the book, watch the news than pick up the paper, and turn on television than turn to one another for quality communication.

Everywhere you go, it seems that people are trying to take advantage of and make the most of this visual society. Many dentists’ offices are now equipped with videos of cartoon figures explaining complicated oral surgery procedures as well as the importance of brushing every day. Somehow it makes more of an impact that way, I suppose. Department stores have monitors playing an endless cycle of videos whose sole purpose is to convince the customer that these are the best clothes, the latest fashions, the “in” style of the season.

Educators in public, private and religious circles have begun to discover the means of reaching this visual age. Only a small percentage of us learn anything in the traditional way of listening to an hour-long lecture and then taking the required written test designed to measure comprehension. The vast majority of us have become visual. Consequently, classrooms are now filled with televisions and video cassette recorders and players, and buildings are topped off with satellite dishes. Even much of the curriculum now being prepared for the church school includes video tapes. We are visual people!

All of this places additional pressure on those of us who stand in a pulpit week after week to speak a word for God. It comes as no surprise to any of us who dare call ourselves “preachers” that most of you who sit in the pews would rather see a sermon than hear one. That most people would rather observe a sermon in action rather than sit quietly and politely through a 20-minute oration is even more appealing in these visual days.

With that in mind, I have some pictures I would like to share with you this morning. Unfortunately, I know that many of you would be quite upset about having a large screen projection television sitting in the chancel area. So, if you will, I invite you to use your imaginations a bit and picture, standing next to the pulpit here, a tall, slightly ragged-around-the-edges screen. Can you see it? This is one we’ve had around the church for years, and I had to dig it out of a closet upstairs and dust it off to bring it in here. I apologize for the slight tilt to the right, but the picture will be centered, so perhaps you can overlook this well-worn screen.

Now let me punch the right button and project our first slide. Here it is. Can you see it? It’s a loaf of bread. The color on the slide is a bit faded, so I am not at all sure whether this is wheat, rye or white. But it is a freshly baked, whole loaf of bread, not sliced and placed in cellophane wrappers and tied with those little twists. If a picture is worth a thousand words, if you would rather see a sermon than hear one, then here it is. A loaf of bread is the sermon today! Having heard the scripture read, and now seen this picture, do you get the point? Just in case it is not quite clear, allow me to say a word about it. (Surely you did not think I had frittered away an entire week of sermon preparation time, and that all I was going to do is show a picture of a loaf of bread!)

The Jews who were listening to Jesus one afternoon did not get it, and he was standing right in front of them. They were apparently very visual people as well, although they did not have nor could they blame television for their problem. They were visual in that they took everything at face value, on the surface, literally. So when our Lord announced that he was the “living bread” they struggled to make sense of such language. “How can this be?” they asked one another, and finally Jesus. Evidently the people of that day had trouble seeing the picture Jesus was trying to paint in their minds and on their hearts. This was not the first time he had heard a “how can this be” question. Nicodemus had responded to a word-picture of a re-delivery room with the same query. Now these would-be opponents of any pretender to the title of Messiah are asking again. Don’t you see it? It’s right in front of you.

So while we are staring at our loaf of bread here on the screen, we may also be asking, “How can this be a sermon?” After all it’s just a picture of bread, like that bread I have on my counter back in my kitchen at this very hour.

Let’s try another picture, if I can punch the correct button again. Here it is, and you will recognize it as a Norman Rockwell painting. Yes, there is the ever-popular, familiar picture of a family Thanksgiving dinner, complete with all the trimmings and all the members of the family about to partake of dinner. Many of us can identify with those warm memories of family gatherings such as this one portrayed by Rockwell. There is something very special, almost sacred, about eating together. You put your feet under the same table with people you know and care about. You pass the rolls, the bread, the cornbread to those who, in sharing it with you, become more -- indeed are more -- than passing acquaintances.

Eating was such an important covenant in the time of Jesus that to eat with someone was to do more than just consume food. It was to enter into a close, personal fellowship with the host and those with whom one shared table. Like Rockwell’s painted scene, this concept of eating is fading from the landscape of our lives. Our modern fast-food establishments have removed much of this quality of eating together. Our fast-paced lives have cut into the time we have to sit down and eat together, even with those of our own families. We eat, these days, in order to swallow enough calories to give us energy to make it until the next time of eating. There is not much of a sacred covenant, nor of fellowship in such consumption.

Let’s try one more picture on our imaginary screen. This one is quite faded and you may have to provide your own details. But if you look closely and study hard you can make out a figure of a man, arms outstretched, legs crossed at the ankles, and head bowed to chest. He is, upon closer examination, hanging on a wooden cross, with drops of blood running down his arm, his side, and gathering in puddles at the foot of the cross. Not a pleasant sight, especially having just left the dinner table. It is not at all like that brass cross which stands on our altar, nor like that 14K-gold one you wear in your ears, nor like the diamond studded one you place around your neck. There he hangs. Do you see him? Now, can you put it all together, this sermon we are seeing?

“I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh… [and] very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you (John 6:51, 53 NRSV).” That’s the line those first hearers had difficulty with. As do we, on occasion, I suppose. To them and to us the word and image sounds and looks crude, and borders on cannibalism, which was, as you know, a charge leveled against some Christians in some parts of the world during earlier missionary times.

Hear it and see it, today, as “living Bread” with a capital “B.” This is Bread (capital “B”) that is more than bread (lower case ‘‘b’’). In the same way that the ancestors of Jesus and his first listeners were kept alive in the wilderness with manna from heaven, so now through him are those who live in this wilderness offered sustenance for each day. In the same way that we know bread to be one of the major food groups providing nourishment and essential vitamins for healthy bodies, so through him we are nourished and are given what is essential for Life (with a capital “L”). This is, as Jesus was trying to make clear with his imagery, food for the soul. On another occasion and to a different audience, it was spoken like this: we do not live by bread alone, but by the Word of God, that is Bread for our hungry spirits.

Ours is a hungry world. We fill our craving stomachs with all manner of would-be relief agents. We overeat to mask our hurts. We eat junk food and we try to snack our way through life, only to discover our health and vitality lost in the process. We consume drugs (both prescription and illegal) to cover our pains. “Pop a pill and forget about life for a while” we are told. We drink ourselves into drunken states because we want to feel something other than the aches of the daily grind. But the Bread of Life, the Bread that satisfies our deepest craving, we ignore or overlook or put off until all else fails.

Here, what Jesus is depicting for us, is food for the soul. It is food for the soul that is overcome with grief or overwhelmed with discouragement or disillusionment. It is food for the soul that is weary with the burdens that seem to pile up with each new dawn. It is food for the soul that is diseased with a depression that saps the energy and drains the spirit. It is food for the soul that is sick to death of the ugliness of evil that rears its head too often, in too many places, too close to home. It is food for the soul that is searching for a firm foundation upon which to stand and by which to live. It is the Living Bread, the very presence of Christ within us to encourage, to forgive, to offer hope, to restore life. In receiving Christ, by eating the Bread (both figuratively in faith and literally in the Eucharist) we find nourishment and refreshment for our souls. Our hunger for that which will give us Life is satisfied as we eat this Bread, if we can see it and receive it for what it is and who it is.

Eat this Bread and you will live, he promises. But even more than that, eat this Bread and I will abide with you, and you will abide with me. I like that word abide. I have pictures again: look, can you see them? They are images of home, of dwelling, of staying with, of living in and with, of trusting and being there. To abide is to know that no matter what comes our way, we will not be deserted nor left to face whatever the matter is on our own. Christ comes to live within us, to take up residence in our spirits, and promises not to leave.

Over the years I have witnessed many scenes of this abiding presence played out in the lives of persons I have known. None are more powerful, more moving, more meaningful than the images which walk across my mind of faithful spouses who care for each other to the very end. Let me draw them for you. There is one now, walking his wife, a victim of Alzheimer’s disease, down the streets in front of the nursing home. She in a wheelchair, not knowing a thing. He pushing her faithfully day after day. Their love of more than 60 years abides in his heart. Here is another: the picture of a woman standing beside the bed of her husband, holding a hand, offering a calm, reassuring voice to this one who has only moments before been thrown into convulsions. “I will not leave you.” Finally, here is the unspoken presence of a Loving Friend who calms my own grieving spirit in the dark hospital room where my father lays dying. “Those who eat my flesh… abide in me, and I in them (John 6:56, NRSV).”

In a world of fast food chains in every village, of drive-through windows, of buffet lines and all-you-can-eat salad bars, we are today offered a different food, the Bread of Life. It is food for a hungry soul. It is eternal food which, when you eat it, satisfies the craving of your heart and opens your eyes to see that all else is imitation and second rate. The pictures flash before us again in rapid succession across our imaginary screen: a loaf of bread, a dinner spread, a cruciform Christ. Now do you get it? Can you see it?

C.S.S. Publishing Company, LIKE A BREATH OF FRESH AIR, by Larry Goodpaster