"Never Be Hungry"

O God, you fed not only us from our youth, but also every living creature.  Feed our hungry souls, we pray, with heavenly food; for you are the one who fills the hungry with good things. ¹

We listen for God's Living Word through the words of the apostle John, in the 6th chapter, beginning with verse 25.

We encounter John's message this morning on the heels of two back-to-back miracles:  Jesus feeds the 5,000 (on the lakeshore hills) and Jesus walks on the Sea of Galilee in the midst of a storm.  The crowd is whipped into a frenzy; they want to force Jesus to become King!  (Ironic isn't it?) Jesus flees the crowds, but they find him again.

When they found him on the other side of the lake, they asked him, "Rabbi, when did you get here?"

Jesus answered, "Very truly I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw the signs I performed but because you ate the loaves and had your fill.  Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. On him God the Father has placed his seal of approval."

Then they asked him, "What must we do to do the works God requires?"

Jesus answered, "The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent."

So they asked him, "What sign then will you give that we may see it and believe you? What will you do?  Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written: 'He gave them bread from heaven to eat.' "

Jesus said to them, "Very truly I tell you, it is not Moses who has given you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven.  For the bread of God is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world."

“Sir,” they said, “always give us this bread.”

Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life.  Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.

“You probably need to eat something,” the baker said.  “I hope you'll eat some of my hot rolls.  You have to eat and keep going.  Eating is a small, good thing in a time like this,’ he said.

He served them warm cinnamon rolls just out of the oven, the icing still runny.  He put butter on the table and knives to spread the butter.  Then the baker sat down at the table with them.  He waited.  He waited until they each took a roll from the platter and began to eat.  "It's good to eat something," he said, watching them.  "There's more.  Eat up.  Eat all you want.  There's all the rolls in the world in here."

They ate rolls and drank coffee.  Ann was suddenly hungry, and the rolls were warm and sweet.  She ate three of them, which pleased the baker.  Then he began to talk.  They listened carefully.  Although they were tired and in anguish, they listened to what the baker had to say.  They nodded when the baker began to speak of loneliness, and of the sense of doubt and limitation that had come to him in his middle years.  He told them what it was like to be childless all these years.  To repeat the days with the ovens endlessly full and endlessly empty.  The party food, the celebrations he'd worked over.  Icing knuckle-deep.  The tiny wedding couples stuck into cakes.  Hundreds of them, no, thousands by now.  Birthdays.  Just imagine all those candles burning.  He had a necessary trade.  He was a baker.  He was glad he wasn't a florist.  It was better to be feeding people.  This was a better smell anytime than flowers.

“Smell this,” the baker said, breaking open a dark loaf.  “It's a heavy bread, but rich.”  They smelled it, then he had them taste it.  It had the taste of molasses and coarse grains.  They listened to him.  They ate what they could.  They swallowed the dark bread.  It was like daylight under the fluorescent trays of light.  They talked on into the early morning, the high, pale cast of light in the windows, and they did not think of leaving.”

Eat this bread and never hunger.  Drink this cup and never thirst.

We want it.  We want this bread, this rich and endless supply.  This fragrant and toothsome loaf, these rolls dusted with cinnamon and sugar.  Sweet warm frosting melts in our mouths, a swipe of yellow butter glistens in the light.

Give us this bread.  Give us what we need.  Give us what we hunger for.

This is the mystery we celebrate today on World Communion Sunday.  This is the sign we witness to every single communion Sunday.

A sign that is so easy for us, and yet so very difficult.  Easy, because everybody needs to eat.  Every human knows hunger.  Bread (in some form) is a staple all over the world.  Tortillas, baguettes, challah, limpa, naan, panko, spelt, injera, hot cross buns.  Bread connects us.  This is easy.  We are hungry; bread satisfies.

It is a sign that is at the same time very difficult.  It is mystery.  We generally do not do well with mystery.  We demand "proof!" "scientific fact!" "observable data!"  In this we are exactly like the crowds demanding a sign from Jesus. "Prove to us that you are sent by God!  Give us food to eat, just like you did last week, across the lake on the hillside.  Do what Moses did a long time ago in the desert.  Feed us." We miss the boat when we focus on our stomachs, even though our stomachs are also important to God.

God has more in store for us than filling our stomachs.  God wants to fill our lives.  God knows we are hungry for far more than cinnamon rolls, lovely though they are.  God knows we yearn for that which bread alone cannot fill.  This is where Jesus comes in.  This is where communion comes in.  Mystery.

The breaking of the bread in the Lord's Supper is unique among Christians in that we believe Christ is present.  The breaking and sharing of bread is a sign.  The Lord's Supper recalls the signs of miracles. The Lord's Supper is a sign that points to a much more important truth, life in Christ.

Christ says to us, "You probably need something.  You probably came here today needing something, needing someone, needing to know you matter, needing to know you are not alone, needing to know life has purpose and you have purpose.  I hope you will come to my table.  Yes, it may seem like a little bit, at first, but there is plenty to share.  It is good we share in our time of need.  It is very good we are not alone."

Christ says to us, "Believe.  Trust.  I will give you what you need.  I know, because I have suffered.  I know you are worried.  I know you are tired.  I too, have been anxious.  I also know fatigue.  I have been lonely.  I know what it is to doubt.  I know what it is to wonder if my life will matter.  I know what it is to fear death."

"I worked as a carpenter.  I studied the scriptures.  I never had a wife.  I never owned a home.  I did not have any money.  I listened.  I fed people.  I gave my life so you might be filled with life.  It was good."

"Smell this," Christ says, breaking open his very life.  "It is heavy, but rich and satisfying.  Taste it.  It is yours.  It is a gift I give to you."²

Christ prepares this table, with breads from all over the world, with fruit of the vine.  God knows our hunger is deep.  Christ says to us, "It's good to eat.  There's more.  Eat up.  Eat all you want.  There's all the life in the world right here, right now."