“I
am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will
live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my
flesh.” (John
6:51)
Once
upon a very long time ago I had occasion to visit the great state of Nevada
with some friends. As happens when one visits the great state of Nevada, we
found ourselves one evening inside a casino. Let me just say for the record
that the Lutheran Church, as a general rule, has been death on gambling, so I’m
not recommending this as a hobby. People lose their money, their families, and
chunks of their souls in casinos all the time. What’s more, in order for you to
win money, some other poor slob has got to lose—so you can see
why we don’t think Jesus would exactly approve.
But
I digress.
On
this particular occasion I watched as a friend of mine cheerfully fed quarters
into the insatiable maw of a slot machine. One after another he fed tiny graven
images of General Washington into this rapacious device just as I might’ve fed
kibble treats to my cat. The action had become mechanical and zombie-like. But
suddenly, after my friend had run through almost the entire content of a $20
roll of coins, the hungry machine erupted with a clang of bells and a flash of
lights. A cascade of two-bit pieces began to vomit forth into an aluminum pan
at the base of the thing. It soon became clear that what was spewing out was a
greater sum than my friend had put in. He had hit a small jackpot—not enough to
buy a new Mercedes mind you, but should he elect to scoop the coins up and
exchange them with the casino cashier for folding green American cash, he’d
certainly be leaving with a few more bucks than he’d come with.
So,
what did he do? Yeah. You guessed it. I watched as he fed every blessed one of
the quarters back into the slot and left with nothing.
We
always want more, don’t we? I recall a quote—the source of which I can’t
cite—supposedly from the billionaire oil baron J. Paul Getty[i]. When Getty was asked how
much is enough, his reply was “Always a little more than you have.” It’s
a sad commentary on our human condition that we lack faith in God’s goodness
even when we’ve seen how gracious God can be.
In
our Gospel for Pentecost 11, Year B (John 6: 35, 41-51) we pick up the story
from last week. Jesus has tried to escape a mob of folks who by now have been
pretty well fed with loaves and fish. But they want more. They’ve run a
marathon race around the Sea of Galilee in hope of intercepting Jesus and making
him their earthly king. He’s been the slot machine that’s paying off, giving
them free food they might not be able to afford and don’t have to work for.
They want more, but they don’t understand what Jesus really wants to give them
is so much more than the earthly provisions they imagine.
For
Chosen People, these guys really seem to be suffering from a lack of
imagination. They see only the immediate picture and can’t get their brains
around the idea that God might be doing something new and exciting in Jesus.
They don’t say to themselves, “Hey! We’ve just seen a freakin’ miracle. It
looks like God might be active and speaking to us. This Jesus—even though we
know who his folks were—might really be sent from God and anointed just as
Moses was anointed to rescue our ancestors. I guess we ought to listen to him.”
But
no. They’re stuck in the mud of their literal-mindedness, abandoning an eternal
vision for hopes of a short-term reward. As I think back on it, I’m sorry I
never said to my slot machine-playing buddy, “Hey! God just blessed you with a
win. If you scoop up those quarters and cash them in, you could treat us both to
the buffet for breakfast. Then we’d have a better memory of our time together
than we’d have just watching you piss away more money.”
Jesus
didn’t come to us only to do signs and wonders which we so easily forget. Jesus
came to give us the bread—the sustenance—of life. He came to give his body on
the cross, so we’d understand true love and compassion and have the hope of
eternity. He came so we would not only acknowledge God but trust in God and, just
maybe, start to live for God.
I
really dig the Hebrew scripture passage the bright lads who composed our
Revised Common Lectionary decided to pair with this gospel lesson. It’s 1 Kings
19:4-8. Here we find the uber prophet Elijah on the lamb from the evil
Queen Jezebel. Elijah has done all God has asked of him, but it doesn’t seem to
him to have changed anything. The queen has put a hit out on him, and he’s
forced to hide out in the desert where we find him depressed and semi-suicidal.
So, God grants him a miracle—food delivered by an angel in a barren a desolate
place. How does he respond? By going right back to sleep. So, God has to do it again
to get his attention.
We
pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.” We’re not just praying to have our
physical needs met. We’re praying to be sustained in trust and hope and purpose—just
as the Father has always intended.
May
you be blessed with all manner of “daily bread” today, and thanks again for
visiting my blog!
[i] Anyway,
I think it was Getty. It might’ve been John D. Rockefeller or one of those
super rich guys. Doesn’t really matter, does it?
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