Bread is the metaphor. Jesus continues to use the image that comes from the “feeding” miracle.
Bread (and fish) is what filled their stomachs. They have become so focused, though, on being
full that they have lost what really happened. Jesus uses the bread as an extended metaphor for
who he is — someone capable of truly sustaining life.
Jesus uses the double amen (NRSV: “Very truly, I tell you”) four times in chapter six (see verses
26, 32, 47, and 53). Maybe one could run with an emphatic expression, something like, “The fact
of the matter is,” or Brown’s “Truly I assure you,” or “Let me firmly assure you.” 2 None of these
translations do the phrase justice. On Jesus’ lips it speaks to an assurance that his message is
guaranteed by God: “[Jesus] is the Word of God; he is the Amen.” 3 Maybe that helps us to hear
the double-amen of chapter six as it leads to the declaration that our work is to believe in Jesus.
For John, there can be no confusion: Jesus is the bread of life and life itself. Not even our lives,
which most of us love and enjoy, are complete in themselves. “My life,” writes Dietrich
Bonhoeffer, “is outside myself, beyond my disposal. My life is another, a stranger; Jesus
Christ.” 4 In John, Jesus is life itself (John 1:4) and has come so “that they may have life” (John
10:10).
An Alcoholics Anonymous slogan exhorting the practice of the 12-steps comes to mind: “It
works if you work it.” Maybe there’s something of a meeting point between the crowd and Jesus
on this point since he does not give work instructions but rather faith instructions: “This is the
work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent” (verse 29). What if the act of believing
is kind of like the “work” in AA of surrendering to our Higher Power? Faith or trust in Jesus, the
one who has come down from heaven, is the work of God for the believer: it works if you work
it!
In that light, it makes sense that John never uses the noun for faith (pistis) but always its verbal
form, pisteuein (“believe,” “have faith,” “come to faith,” or “put faith”). Brown defines its use in
John as denoting an active commitment to a person, especially Jesus. Significantly, 74 out of 98
uses of pisteuein in John are in the Book of Signs where Jesus invites people to have continuing
and active trust in him. 5
The second emphatic corrects the crowd’s exegetical conclusions (our ancestors ate manna from
heaven, given by Moses, etc.). Jesus’ exegetical move attunes his listeners to God’s faithfulness
today. They demand, “Sir, give us this bread always.” What they demand is what they already
have in the presence of Jesus: “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be
hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty” (35).
“We can believe in justice as a thing,” says artist and theologian, Elizabeth Gray King. “We can
believe in love and care and kindness and humility. But until we start living and acting as love,
living out that care, graciously spilling over with kindness and working with others in humility as
compared to power, a belief is just a belief, almost an object to be admired … Believing in
resurrection is ok. Living resurrection is quite another thing.” 6 implausible that Jewish people of John’s time viewed Moses as the ultimate source of manna.
Instead, Jesus’ words represent a way of interacting with scripture that was common at the time.
He says, don’t think of the scripture as saying “Moses gave” the bread, but as “my father gives”
it (compare with John 6:32). Jesus defines and slightly alters the terms of the scripture. The cited
text in verse 31 stated, “he gave us bread from heaven to eat.” Jesus says, don’t interpret the
subject, “he” as Moses, but as God. Furthermore, he changes the verb tense from “gave,” the past
tense, to “gives.” The changes bring out the point of Jesus’ interpretation: manna is not simply a
story that resides in Israel’s past, but is an on-going gift of God in the present. It is available to
Jesus’ listeners even now.
Jesus’ words continue to identify manna as a present-tense gift from God, a life-giving power
that originates in heaven.
The crowd seems to understand Jesus’ words in this way, and they find his teaching appealing.
They respond, “Lord, give us this bread always” (John 6:34). Their words convey not only that
they desire the bread Jesus is speaking about, but that they see him as one (like Moses) who
facilitates this gift. So they request this bread from Jesus.
At this point Jesus identifies himself with the present gift of manna God is giving to the world: “I
am the bread of life” (John 6:35). This is the first of Jesus’ seven “I am” sayings, each of which
elaborates an important aspect of Jesus’ identity. These sayings most often draw on Old
Testament imagery to understand Jesus. The interaction between Jesus’ story and the Old
Testament story can provide a rich resource for reflection on the meaning of Jesus’ life.
Then I contemplate this story through the realities of our world. As long lines for humanitarian
aid demonstrate, eating your fill one day does not mean that you will not be hungry the next.
When there is no food, and you do not know how you will sustain your life today, what is the
point of working for eternity? Think parents whisking their children out of their beds in Egypt —
or Central America — on the promise of a better life, only to watch their kids starve to death (or
get blown to bits) in the desert.
Some things are worth complaining to God about. Sometimes, asking God for assurance that
God is still with us is understandable, even appropriate. When Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell
you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the
loaves” (John 6:26), I do not think Jesus was scolding the crowd for seeking bread because they
were hungry. I think Jesus was disappointed that the crowd did not expect more, not more bread
but something more. Perhaps Jesus was thinking more about ending hunger than serving up more
bread. Moses and Aaron, not to mention God, may have been disappointed that Israel did not
expect more, not an Egyptian deli in the desert, but that the God who delivered them from
slavery would also sustain them in the desert.
This is easy to see and even easier to say because we know the end of God’s story, for us and for
the world, as well as for the people in the Bible — manna, quail, promised land; suffering, death,
resurrection; water, word, table; abundant and eternal life. So why don’t we expect more from
God? Why do we settle for signs of God’s grace — bread from whatever source — rather than
seeking and expecting God’s immortal love for us? Could it be that we work for the food that
perishes, rather than the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Humanity gives us,
because we are unwilling or unable to name what we truly hunger for and seek? Why do you
suppose this is? Fear of being disappointed, a need to somehow protect God, and clarity that we
are not deserving all come to mind.
And why do we assume that we have to work to get what we truly hunger for and seek? With the
crowd, we assume that the key question when we encounter God is, “What must we do to
perform the works of God?” (John 6:28) Along with, “How much is enough?” and “How do we
make sure we do it right?” These questions press even harder when the stakes are war and peace,
safety and security, food, water, and health care, the economy and the environment. “What must
we do to perform the works of God?”
How often do we, as preachers and congregations and denominations, forget that the gospel is
the declaration of what God does, and instead act as though all of reality centers on, and is
determined by, what we are doing?
The “work of God” is belief, which is made possible only by giving the Son, the bread from
Heaven. Faith is always the gracious and surprising accomplishment of God.
In response, the people continue to indicate their own misunderstanding of what is happening in
front of their eyes. As evidence that they have not truly seen the sign that Jesus did in feeding the
multitude, they now ask for a sign from him (verse 30). They apparently want a sign from the
“old days” repeated. They remember the story of Moses and the manna, and seem to be
requesting something like that. They are looking to the past, failing to see that the Father is doing
something astonishingly new right in front of them. In verse 32, Jesus exegetes the Exodus story
(or Psalm 78:23-25, which the crowd seems to paraphrase in verse 31), but turns the point of that
story to the activity of the Father here and now. The true giver is not Moses, but the Father; the
true giving was not in the past, but in the present; the true bread was not the manna, but is the
bread of God that has now come down from Heaven in the person of Jesus.
In the final verse of this text, Jesus makes one more attempt to clear their eyes and ears: “I am
the bread of life.”
Just yesterday Jesus fed 5000 of them with five loaves and two fish. Today they show up and
their first question is, “Rabbi, when did you come here?”
They do not marvel at yesterday’s miracle, give thanks for God’s generosity, or even wonder
who this rabbi is. It sounds to me like they are worried they might have missed the next meal,
that Jesus started without them and they are too late. They saw no sign, no miracle, in yesterday’s
feeding. They saw nothing more than fish and bread. They either refused or were unable to see
beyond the fish and bread. They are interested only in their own appetites and Jesus knows it.
The food that endures is Jesus himself. He is the bread that is broken and distributed for the life
of the world. He is the bread that is broken and yet never divided. He is the bread that is eaten
and yet never exhausted. He is the bread that consecrates those who believe in and eat him.
When we believe in Jesus, eating, ingesting, and taking him into our lives, we live differently.
We see ourselves and one another as persons created in the image and likeness of God rather
than as obstacles or issues to be overcome. We trust the silence of prayer rather than the words
of argument. We choose love and forgiveness rather than anger and retribution. We relate with
intimacy and vulnerability rather than superficiality and defensiveness. We listen for God’s voice
rather than our own. Ultimately, we seek life rather than death.
“I am the bread of life,” Jesus tells the people. “Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and
whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” He is offering the people himself. He is the
imperishable bread that nourishes and sustains imperishable life.
Jesus makes us the same offer. He offers himself to us in every one of our relationships: family,
friends, strangers, enemies, those who agree with us, and those who disagree. In every situation
and each day of our life we choose the bread we will eat, perishable or imperishable. In so doing
we also choose the life we want.
So I wonder, what bread will we eat today?
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