Sunday Musings

Follow that bread!

Aug 03, 2024

During these weeks of Ordinary Time, the lectionary turns toward the most ordinary of foods — bread.

You might even think of August as Bread Month in the lectionary. The theme started last week with the feeding of the five thousand (and the surprising political implications of the act - read about that here) and continues this week with hungry hordes following Jesus across the Sea of Galilee. There will be more bread in the weeks ahead.

I hope you enjoy today’s reflection — and the three wonderful bread poems at the end.

John 6:24-35

The next day, when the people who remained after the feeding of the five thousand 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.”

Close-up from Vermeer’s *The Milkmaid,* c. 1658

I love bread. I suppose my waistline is proof of this fact. I’d be happy for a long time on a diet of bread, butter, cheese, fruit, and wine. Throw in a little chocolate and some soup and I’m set. On social media, I follow a bunch of bread accounts — bakers, artisans, cookbook authors. Really. I not only love eating bread, I love following it.

Apparently, I’m not alone. In last week’s reading, Jesus fed a crowd with five loaves of bread and a couple of fish. The miracle was so impressive that the surprised and sated throng tried to make him king. But Jesus said no and slinked away. And it appears his refusal alienated a few of his bread fans. The multitude thinned.

Some stayed around, however, having loved lunch so much that they hoped for more the next day. But Jesus didn’t return for a second act. Soon enough, they realized he had left Tiberias and wasn’t coming back. So, they got into boats, crossed the sea, and tracked him to Capernaum.

The story doesn’t say how many chased him down, but since there were five thousand the day before, it could have been quite a crowd — several hundred? several score? several dozen? It would be like a flotilla of bread followers. Maybe bread stalkers.

I found my people.

It makes me sort of sad that Jesus doesn’t seem too impressed with them or with their devotion to bread:

“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.”

If I had been there, I know what I would have been thinking: That’s great, all that eternal life stuff. But … but … what about lunch? One more loaf? Just another slice?

The crowd then seems to understand that bread might not be on today’s menu. Jesus is more interested in the “signs,” the entertainment part of yesterday’s big meal, than the actual food part. So, they play along. If not bread, then…

“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.’”

Ah ha! Much of the crowd had scattered yesterday after Jesus turned down the offer of kingship. But this gang, the bread flotilla, stayed with him even after they realized he wasn’t the new Caesar. However, they still had an idea of who he was. After all, if he wasn’t a king who gave bread, perhaps he was a new Moses, the mighty prophet who led the people of Israel out of slavery. If not bread and circuses, maybe Jesus would give them bread and freedom.

Or maybe they just really wanted bread.

Jesus replied that he was sorry — he was not Moses, not any more than he was Caesar. Anyway, they got the story wrong. Moses didn’t give the people bread:

“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.”

Maybe a few more left. This free lunch was taking too long. But others stuck around: “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.”

I imagine some murmuring, even grumbling, in the crowd. No bread, no manna for hungry bellies today — it doesn’t matter that so many had traveled across the sea to follow him. Maybe those who left yesterday were right. This Jesus doesn’t want a crown. And now he doesn’t even want the mantle of prophet. His follower count probably dropped.

Did we come all this way for a metaphor?

A metaphor, yes. But also a mystery: “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

That’s a pretty yeasty thing to say.

I think I’ll stick around following this Jesus — I want to see what rises.

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INSPIRATION

Each night, in a space he’d make
between waking and purpose,
my grandfather donned his one
suit, in our still dark house, and drove
through Brooklyn’s deserted streets
following trolley tracks to the bakery.

There he’d change into white
linen work clothes and cap,
and in the absence of women,
his hands were both loving, well
into dawn and throughout the day—
kneading, rolling out, shaping

each astonishing moment
of yeasty predictability
in that windowless world lit
by slightly swaying naked bulbs,
where the shadows staggered, woozy
with the aromatic warmth of the work.

Then, the suit and drive, again.
At our table, graced by a loaf
that steamed when we sliced it,
softened the butter and leavened
the very air we’d breathe,
he’d count us blessed.
— Robert Levine, “Bread”

Today it’s the bread
that reminds me
how human I am—
how I want people
to like the bread
that I baked, how I hope
they can taste
the organic grain
that I ground myself
for the pleasure
of grinding it, sure,
how I can get the texture
just the way I like it,
but also for some small
way it makes me feel
as if I am a better person
because I have ground
the flour. Oh it is
so tricky, the way
I start to believe
that if the people I love
like the bread I bake
that they will like me more.
As if rye and winter wheat
have anything to do
with who I am.
But I do not despise
the bread for this. Its taste
is the taste of harvest,
sunshine and rain,
patience and earth.
The bread wants nothing
and nourishes despite.
Nor do I despise myself
for the longing to be loved.
Well, not much.
So human, I tell myself
to think we’re not enough.
Of course we’re enough,
Of course. Just as we are.
Still, I can’t help but wonder
if I made the butter, too,
well, then they might really,
really love me.
— Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, “Oh Hush Up and Eat the Bread”

For Wendell Berry

Each face in the street is a slice of bread
wandering on
searching

somewhere in the light the true hunger
appears to be passing them by
they clutch

have they forgotten the pale caves
they dreamed of hiding in
their own caves
full of the waiting of their footprints
hung with the hollow marks of their groping
full of their sleep and their hiding

have they forgotten the ragged tunnels
they dreamed of following in out of the light
to hear step after step

the heart of bread
to be sustained by its dark breath
and emerge

to find themselves alone
before a wheat field
raising its radiance to the moon
— W.S. Merwin, “Bread”

Good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods; and good bread with fresh butter, the greatest of feasts.

— James Beard

Wyoming wilderness update:

I mentioned that I was going fly-fishing in the creek. Well, I had a great teacher but - sadly - we didn’t catch anything. (Yes, that’s Brian McLaren!) But I enjoyed it anyway!

And next time: Watch out trout!