The Bread of Life

Preached as a sermon at Croydon Minster on Sunday 1 August, 2021, readings Exodus 16.2-4, 9-15; John 6.24-35 

I am the bread of life, says the Lord,

whoever comes to me will never be hungry,

and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. John 6.35

 

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In today’s gospel we are given more teaching by Jesus on what it means for him to be the Bread of Life. It’s a theme from last Sunday’s gospel and will be next Sunday too.

 

In John, chapter six, of which today’s gospel is a part, we are given deeper insights into what is going on in the Eucharist - and how that connects with our spiritual yearnings and physical needs - in our desire for Christ, the Bread of Life.

 

In the Olympics we see how the human body needs fuelling when it is on the extremes of physical performance. But even those of us who are not elite athletes need to refuel our bodies too.

 

But food is more than fuel. Food is also about hospitality, about companionship, about connection; human and divine. Food shows us the intimate connection between body and soul, who we are. Food nourishes cells and muscles; it nourishes the soul as we feast with others and as we fast.

 

The Eucharist elevates us beyond a simple meal into a divine human encounter where we feast on angels’ food.

 

The Biblical sources for this understanding are clear:

 

First there is the mysterious manna, ‘a fine flaky substance’ which was bread that God had given, yet as today’s psalm says: ‘so mortals ate the bread of angels; he gave them bread from heaven.’ (Psalm 78).

 

The Feeding of the Five Thousand was a revelation of miraculous abundance in Christ.

 

At the Last Supper Jesus invested the ritual meal of the Passover with new meaning, declaring that the bread he took, broke and shared was nothing less than his Body, and the wine likewise his Blood: he is the Passover Lamb.

 

At Emmaus the real presence of the Crucified and Risen Lord was signified in the broken bread.

 

The banquet of heaven unveiled in the Book of Revelation connects our earthly offering of the Eucharist with the eternal heavenly banquet.

 

The Eucharist, Holy Communion, is so much more than a simple meal; it is when our prayer ‘give us this day our daily bread’ is answered and we receive the Bread of Life.

 

It seems so unlikely in many ways. Like the crowds in the gospel we feel there should be more of a sign, perhaps something a little more spectacular than this round disk of bread, that hardly seems to be bread.

 

The sign should not detract from the One who is signified.

 

The host, as it’s known, resembles more the manna the Israelites ate in the desert rather than the sort of bread we might be used to, with butter and jam.

 

When that host is placed on your hand you hear the words, ‘The Body of Christ’. What a remarkable declaration! This is the Body of Christ, the Bread of Life. And speaking the word ‘Amen’ in response you are saying ‘yes: so be it’; you are assenting to the presence of Christ that you are to receive; you are saying, ‘Lord, give me this bread always’; you are believing.

 

There’s a saying: ‘you are what you eat’. You will receive and eat the Bread of Life: what will become of you?

 

The Fifth Loaf: Meeting Jesus Christ in the Eucharist

 He set loaves of bread before them, they ate, and had some left, according to the word of the LORD.

2 Kings 4.44

 

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In the gospel last week Jesus sighed with compassion and pity on the crowds who were like ‘sheep without a shepherd’. In other words, they were hungry for pastures that would nourish them and guidance that would lead them on the deepest level.

 

So what could he do for them?

 

Leaders are very good at the ‘bread and circuses’ approach to their people, throwing out cheap ruses that will that give fleeting satisfaction: crumbs that meet the basic need for a bite to eat and the circus for a bit of fun and entertainment.

 

The Roman Emperors knew all about that. And political leaders into our own day do it too. It’s about gaining short term approval, sedating the clamouring crowd.

 

But bread and circuses only deal with the surface.

 

The gospel today points us to the lasting nourishment, the deep feeding, fripperies stripped away so that we find we are given more than enough, there is more left over, more to come back to.

 

God preserve us, in the Church, from the bread and circus approach to faith which fobs people off with vacuous promises, glittering initiatives, passing fads married to the spirit of the age. The Gospel is inexhaustibly nourishing giving solid food not palliatives.

 

Jesus says, ‘I am the bread of Life’. He was born in a place, Bethlehem, that literally means the ‘House of Bread’; he was born in a manger, which is a feeding trough.

 

In today’s gospel the Bread of Life, feeds the teeming crowd with… the Bread of Life. That green field where the Five Thousand gathered is the pasture where the sheep are fed; this church is a House of Bread, a Bethlehem, where people are fed with the Bread of Life.

 

We are in the pasture here and now. Christ draws us in all our human frailty and bewilderment to give us more than the world can offer. The Church feeds on the Bread of Life and, indeed, notices the gifts that even the smallest, apparently most insignificant, people can bring. After all, it is a child who brings what is needful to the table, what seemed tiny and insignificant, which is abundantly transformed by Christ.

 

That’s why a healthy church never underestimates the ministry and potential of children in the flourishing of the gospel.

Let’s never stifle that instinctive faith and expectation from our children, or indeed from ourselves. And let’s nurture the faith of children in fresh ways and support parents and carers as they have the primary task of bringing their children up to the glory of God the Father.

 

Let’s rejoice when we hear the cry of a child, not say we’re distracted by them: they might have some loaves and fishes with them!

 

So not only are the crowds fed by Christ, but there is bread left over. That bread will keep them fed; it will feed others who are drawn to the banquet. As today’s psalm put it:

 

The eyes of all wait upon you, O Lord,

and you give them their food in due season.

You open wide your hand

and fill all things living with plenty. Psalm 145.16,17

 

The Feeding of the Five Thousand (which, incidentally, is portrayed in a fresco on the north side of our High Altar), the Last Supper, the breaking of bread on the road to Emmaus are Gospel sources for what we are doing now in the Eucharist.

 

Writing to the Church of Corinth St Paul says, ‘For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks over it, he broke it and said, ‘Do this in remembrance of me’. (1 Corinthians 11.23). It the self-same action of Christ. Taking bread. Giving thanks over it. Breaking it.

 

Christian disciples instinctively recognise that when bread is taken, thanks given over it and broken, then Jesus Christ is present.

 

The Eucharist is the distinctive, precious and central worship of the Church: the source and summit of the Christian life.

 

This is no circus; no fast food that fails to satisfy. This is deep, slow, lasting food that opens up the divine life of Christ so that we grow in holiness.

 

At the Church of the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes in the Holy Land, at Tabgha, by the Sea of Galilee, where the miracle is said to have taken place, there is an ancient mosaic right in front of the altar of the ancient Byzantine church. The mosaic shows the two fishes, brought by the boy, and a basket of four loaves. Four? - you might ask – where’s the fifth?

 

Where’s that fifth loaf? Of course, it’s on the altar itself, and it is what we now eat.

 

‘He set the loaves of bread before them, they ate, and had some left, according to the word of the LORD.’

'Come & See'

 First preached at Croydon Minster on Sunday 17 January, 2021. Gospel reading John 1.43-end

‘You will see greater things than these’ (John 1.50b)

 

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St John’s gospel is wonderful! It’s full of connections, links and allusions. It begins with everything distilled into 18 pregnant verses, known as the Prologue, that are fleshed out through the next 21 chapters.

 

Take today’s gospel reading. Philip and Nathanael are invited by Jesus to see so much more than they could believe possible about themselves, God and the ways of heaven.

 

A couple of verses of the Prologue seem to encapsulate Nathanael’s encounter with Jesus:

 

‘The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.’ (John 1.17-18)

 

As Jesus said, Nathanael was an exemplary Israelite, and knew the law given through Moses (cf John 1.47). He had never seen God – no one ever had - but what Philip, Nathanael and we will see – and now have seen - is grace and truth in the face of Jesus Christ.

 

When they meet, Nathanael discovers that Jesus had already seen and known him. Seeing Nathanael goes beyond spotting him by a fig tree; this is deep knowing.

 

Nathanael is amazed, ‘How did you come to know me?’ The answer was given in our psalm this morning:

 

‘O LORD, thou hast searched me out and known me : thou knowest my down-sitting and mine up-rising, thou understandest my thoughts long before’ (Psalm 139.1).

 

Jesus beholds him and knows him; he beholds you and knows you, because in beholding you, he loves you.

 

And beholding, knowing and loving you he invites you to ‘come and see; taste and see’.

 

‘It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.’

 

Come and behold; come, feast your eyes, and you will see even greater things than these - says Christ, the Bread of Life - and in knowing me, and feasting at my table, I will open to you the very heavens, the very depths of the mystery of God full of grace and truth.