Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord
and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
It all came about because the people were grumbling. Two
months into the wilderness journey, just sixty or so days since they fled from
the Egyptians and the wicked pharaoh, and the people were already lamenting how
they left behind pots of meat and baskets of fresh vegetables. If you want to
talk about romanticizing a situation, this was it. Back in Egypt, they weren’t
shopping at Whole Foods, they were digging in the scrap bins. It wasn’t “Here
Everything’s Better” – it was here, everyone was begging for their lives. It
wasn’t “Save Money – Live Better,” it was save our necks and live one more day.[1]
But their scrap stew and stale crusts of bread seemed like a 5-star Michelin
meal compared to the hot air that they were dining on in the desert. What they
had in Egypt wasn’t much, they could honestly say, but it beat starvation. And
so they grumbled – they grumbled against God and grumbled against Moses. “It
would have been better if we died in Egypt than to die out here in the desert,”
they lamented.
No. It would not have been better had they died in Egypt.
Nor would it do for God’s people whom He rescued to die in the wilderness. How
terrible that would be. Could you imagine the laughter? “Oh, yeah…that
Israelite God. He was strong enough to perform ten incredible plagues over
Egypt and part the Red Sea, but he forgot His logistical supply train out in
the desert…” No, that wouldn’t do at all. So the Lord, in His grace and mercy,
reaches out His hand and rains down blessings upon His hungry, grumbling people.
Manna. In Hebrew, manach.
We know what it is, sort of, but the ancient Israelites had no clue, so the
name of this flaky, semi-sweet coriander-like, bread-ish substance means
exactly that: “What is it?” It’s not exactly bread, lechem, at least not like the bread they had always known, but
that’s what God called it. It came to the ground overnight, a left-over remnant
after the dew. The Children of Israel were to harvest it in the morning, enough
for each person in the family to have enough for three meals in a day – nothing
more. If they tried to store up extras, to squirrel away a little manach for a rainy day, so to speak,
they were left with a stinky, bug-infested mess. They were to only collect a
day’s ration at a time. It was as if God were saying, “I will provide. Do you
trust me? You have My word and my word does not fail. Do you trust me? Every
day, go collect the daily ration – with the exception of Friday when you
collect a double portion for Sabbath – and you will not hunger.” And the Lord
did as He promised. Every night the dew lay on the ground and every morning the
manna was ready to be picked up.
Ah, yes. Every morning. Every morning for forty years the
Lord provided perfectly for His people so their bellies didn’t growl in
emptiness. Every morning. That’s over 76,000 meals of manna that were eaten
over 40 years. Every morning, God’s blessing literally appeared on the ground
and every day, the people were fed.
But it was an every morning ordeal. Every morning they had
to go pick it up. Every morning they had to go collect the manna so they would
survive. That’s 12,520 mornings of going out and gathering manna with a weekly
day off. Every morning, baskets of manna to provide the day’s meals. Israel was
experiencing God’s curse to Eve in a very personal way: “By the sweat of your
face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground…” (Gen. 3:19). God was
again using bread to save His people, but it was only a temporal salvation that
had to be repeated every day until they entered the Promised Land.
Daily bread. We know about daily bread, don’t we, and the
work it takes to have it. Now, by daily bread, I don’t just mean Mrs. Baird’s
finest. That’s part of it, sure, but daily bread encompasses much more. Luther
says it’s everything that we need to support this body and life such as food,
drink, clothing, shoes, house, home, land, animals, money, goods, family,
employment, good weather and more. We know about this bread and we know about
getting it. We get up in the morning and go to work. For some, that’s going to
the plant; for others, that’s planting in the ground. For some, it’s an office
or a classroom; for others, it’s an oilfield or a warehouse. For some, it’s
driving a vehicle for sales or delivery; for others, it’s crawling under a car
to service it. But every morning, except our Sabbath, it’s up and at ‘em,
making hay while the sun shines, turning and burning, trying to gather the
daily bread that the Lord provides through our work.
But daily bread is just that – it’s daily. It’s fleeting. It
passes. Whether it’s the food in the pantry, the clothes on our backs, the
health of our bodies, the money in our IRA and 401Ks, or the stability of our
families, they don’t last forever. Do we work to live, or live to work? It’s
tempting to become jaded. It happens to me, too. I’ve been there, myself. Some
days, I understand the words of the writer of Proverbs 1 a little more clearly
than others: “Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly
meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”
What do people gain from all their labors at which they toil under the
sun?” (Prov. 1:1-3)
Jesus picks up on this in today’s Gospel lesson. “Do not
labor for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal
life, which the Son of Man will give to you.” (Jn. 6:27). He is teaching the
crowds that followed to stop following Him because of the miracles and the
baskets of bread. Instead, follow Jesus to receive the gift that lasts into
eternity.
The gift isn’t earned by going to work each day. This is a
food that’s given you free, gratis, from the Son of Man, from Jesus, marked in
His Baptism as the Son of God and Source of salvation. Jesus alone, and
there is no other.
Jesus our bread; Jesus our drink. If you’re thinking
Lord’s Supper, you on the right track. But today it’s about trust in
Jesus and His work to save you. So that you don’t doubt, so that you
don’t wonder if this bread is for you, He gives you a sign. It’s not changing a
boy’s loaf into a massive potluck. It’s something greater: His death and
resurrection. That’s how this Bread of Life is baked - in the fiery
furnace of God’s wrath against our sin and in the burning heat of His passion
to save His fallen creation. Like wheat ground up by the mill and put
into the fire, Jesus endured the cross bearing our sin in order to be our Food,
the Source of life.
“I am the Bread of Life,” Jesus said. Think about it: bread. Not croissant, not challa, not fancy gourmet loaves, not a delicacy to be indulged in once and a while. Bread. Daily, ordinary, earthy food. Jesus is manna for sinners - those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. You, in all the ways that sin has left you empty and hungry. There is food that endures forever. A Bread that gives life forever. A drink that quenches your thirst and soothes your parched soul. Not “chicken soup for the soul,” but bread of life for your life. And it is free. Not earned but given, received.
When I was a student at the Seminary in St. Louis, there was a cooking show on the local PBS station that I loved to watch. The host was a Dominican monk from the nearby monastery in Illinois and his show was called, simply, BREAKING BREAD WITH FATHER DOMINIQUE. I guess I was a groupie – I got his cookbook for a Christmas gift. And, I have to admit, as I was writing this I googled “Breaking Bread with Father Dominique” and I was pleasantly surprised to find that not only is he still baking, but I also found both his blog and his video channel.
“I am the Bread of Life,” Jesus said. Think about it: bread. Not croissant, not challa, not fancy gourmet loaves, not a delicacy to be indulged in once and a while. Bread. Daily, ordinary, earthy food. Jesus is manna for sinners - those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. You, in all the ways that sin has left you empty and hungry. There is food that endures forever. A Bread that gives life forever. A drink that quenches your thirst and soothes your parched soul. Not “chicken soup for the soul,” but bread of life for your life. And it is free. Not earned but given, received.
When I was a student at the Seminary in St. Louis, there was a cooking show on the local PBS station that I loved to watch. The host was a Dominican monk from the nearby monastery in Illinois and his show was called, simply, BREAKING BREAD WITH FATHER DOMINIQUE. I guess I was a groupie – I got his cookbook for a Christmas gift. And, I have to admit, as I was writing this I googled “Breaking Bread with Father Dominique” and I was pleasantly surprised to find that not only is he still baking, but I also found both his blog and his video channel.
One of his first episodes, he was discussing the basics of
how to bake bread. Apparently, a lot of people are intimidated by bread because
of the yeast involved, and then the kneading process, and the time it takes to
bake bread – about three hours, start to finish – so he was trying to soothe
first time bakers. Short of killing the yeast, it takes a lot of work to really
mess up a batch of bread. He said,
“Don’t worry about the bread. It is your friend. Bread is very forgiving.”
That Bread is Jesus Himself - Jesus in the Word, Jesus in
your Baptism, Jesus in the Bread and Cup. Jesus, for the full and free
forgiveness of all of your sins. Eat and drink, trust in Him, and you will
filled with life forever.
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