Christian Art | Jesus | Bread Of Life | John’s Gospel
John 6: 41-51 | Audio Bible KJV | King James Version
41 The Jews then murmured at him, because he said, I am the bread which came down from heaven.
42 And they said, Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? how is it then that he saith, I came down from heaven?
43 Jesus therefore answered and said unto them, Murmur not among yourselves.
44 No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him: and I will raise him up at the last day.
45 It is written in the prophets, And they shall be all taught of God. Every man therefore that hath heard, and hath learned of the Father, cometh unto me.
46 Not that any man hath seen the Father, save he which is of God, he hath seen the Father.
47 Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me hath everlasting life.
48 I am that bread of life.
49 Your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness, and are dead.
50 This is the bread which cometh down from heaven, that a man may eat thereof, and not die.
51 I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.
Eternal Life With Jesus | Bread Of Life
Jesus confronts doubts and murmuring of the Jews, who struggle to accept Jesus’ declaration that he is the ‘bread which came down from heaven’. This informs our understanding of the Eucharist, where Jesus offers his body and blood as spiritual sustenance. Jesus’ teaching unfolds the mystery of Jesus’ real presence in the Eucharist.
The Jews’ reaction, questioning how Jesus, whom they know as the son of Joseph, could claim such divine origins, mirrors human tendency to resist what is not easily understood. Jesus responds not by diminishing his claim but by further emphasizing the necessity of divine grace to recognize and accept this truth: ‘No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him.’
Jesus teaches that faith is a gift from God, a divine drawing that leads one to recognize and believe.
Jesus identifies himself explicitly as the ‘bread of life’, contrasting the manna given to the Israelites in the wilderness with the living bread Jesus offers. The manna, though miraculous, was temporary and ultimately failed to give eternal life, as those who ate it eventually died. In contrast, the bread that Jesus offers is his flesh, which is given for the life of the world.
There is a need for a deep faith in the Eucharist. This calls people of faith to move beyond mere intellectual acceptance and to enter into a relationship of trust and reverence. We may think of the parables of Jesus: the Eucharist is the ‘pearl of great price’, a treasure beyond all earthly goods. The Eucharist is no mere ritual or symbol, rather the real presence of Christ, who humbles himself to become our spiritual food.
We are invited to approach the Eucharist with wonder and humility, recognizing this gift as the expression of God’s love. Jesus, who comes down from heaven to offer himself as the bread of life, invites us into a profound communion.
This communion is both personal encounter and participation in the life of the Church, the body of Christ. In receiving the Eucharist, we are united with Christ and with all who share this sacrament, this union transcending time and space.
‘Death,’ says His Grace, ‘throws it all apart. For we are not as we should be. Faith requires our adjustment to God’s truth. God’s triumph in a very real sense requires in us the loss of our everything. Which, as with Mary at the other end of Jesus’s life, is God’s truth.’ The Gospel reading is of John 11: 1-45, which is a long passage, and His Grace’s homiletic theme commences in textual wilderness. Our brokenness – in this place – a family home. Our faith, our doubt, our death… The irruption – death, doubt, fear – within our precious scenes and our most intimate places. Our domesticity. His Grace speaks from the chair, as is a bishop’s prerogative, and says: ‘So much is obscure in the Gospels. We’re always reaching through them. We’re never there. Really, we never are. Our knowledge, our understanding, of the Gospels is never complete, and with each reading comes a new revelation. There are always new riches there. Just as there are between all of us, between myself and you. The Gospels are living texts. This is a part of the conversation we have with our own Christianity. It is a part of who we are in our relationship with Jesus. We are in this sense always on the brink. ‘So yes, there is plenty that doesn’t seem to make sense. As one of the order of bishops, we would be lying if we said that weren’t the case. They are not easy texts to encounter, if by that word we may signify something more than a superficial glancing off against, but rather a profound search for the word of God. The Gospels are written by people who had their own ideas, and often didn’t know what had really happened. Luke is quite explicit on this point. His is an investigation, from the explicitly claimed point of view of an historian, rather than that of a first-hand witness, who attempts, so he says, to set out an orderly account, out of the chaos, the sheer muddle, that has been handed down to him. It is possible to imagine Luke researching and composing his account after many years, when there has arisen a desire to know what exactly happened, and this implies a certain call to faith and certain demands of historicity, to historical exactitude. So in these different ways, the people of the first years of Christian faith are in the dark. There is also a decisive need to define the life of Jesus. And people didn’t get Jesus. The whole meaning of Christianity is only now beginning to take root throughout the composition. So much needs to be evangelized. The light shines almost in tentative fashion like that first star, which drew the wise men from the east to our Lord’s cradle. ‘John’s is widely held to be a very late Gospel. There are others who say that John’s Gospel might have been the first to acquire its true shape, because it most fully expresses Jesus, as we know him to be, as members of the Catholic Church. We don’t really know when any of this is being written, but we get a feel in John of a Gospel refined over many years, through a community. So there’s a lot going on there that I’d like you to think about. ‘What I would like to suggest to you is that, while within the Gospels we are often confronted with clues, guesswork, stories that have been handed down through so many people, and so in this sense we might find ourselves to be in the wilderness, this is the very desolate space itself to which we must give ourselves in order to experience Christ’s full redemption in our lives. I suggest it is for God’s glory that we do so. ‘As we become aware of ourselves, in this seminary, we find ourselves in a very secure, comfortable setting, and there are signs of Easter everywhere. Within the very fabric of these buildings, our Lord is risen; our Lord lives. But now this is our Lenten journey, where death enters, where death breaks us. We are to ride into Jerusalem in triumph, and then we are to be utterly broken, all hope gone, our hope extinguished. And really, I suggest to you, it is only by inhabiting this thought, as if we don’t know Easter is there, that our new life can follow, just when we have given up all hope, when every promise that Jesus made to us seems to have been cancelled. ‘And here now we have the story of Lazarus. I should like to suggest to you that we have a very powerful call now. In our very comfortable space, our domesticity, with all this comfort, where so very little might seem to happen each day, so it might seem to you, there is a disturbance within all of this comfort, and that is a disturbance within ourselves, and that is our call to Jesus. I think it is correct to say that our most comfortable places break in the light of Jesus from the inside, in order that we may take the necessary steps to be with Jesus. ‘Faith is not comfortable. I think that we can all receive the message of the rolling away of the rock from the tomb of Lazarus to say something of vital importance to ourselves concerning our openness to God’s love. The rock we roll away can come in all sorts of guises, but we know when we are blocked, and I firmly believe if we are truthful then we know where those blocks might be. ‘Next Sunday, which will be Palm Sunday, we process as it were to Jerusalem, to begin our Holy Week. Now as I speak to you we are on the brink. Even now, I suggest it might be very good for all of us to lay aside what we think we know, to fall apart a little, and so […]
Saint Augustine confronts the pastor’s duty to seek those who stray and to call back the lost, even when that task is resisted or resented. He frames the obligation in stark terms: sheep wander; wolves and robbers threaten; the shepherd must go after the weak and the scattered. The passage presses a practical point about pastoral courage. The preacher must ‘preach the word; insist upon it’ (cf. 2 Timothy 4:2) whether the hearers welcome or reject it [ … ]
John’s account of the miracle of Jesus walking on the water differs in some significant ways from the accounts given in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark. The context is the same, the miracle of the loaves and fishes has taken place, and the disciples are crossing the Sea of Galilee, while Jesus has remained on shore, going into the hills to pray alone. We understand, as well, in each of the Gospel accounts, the symbolic meaning of the disciples being alone and troubled on the waters, to which situation the Lord comes to help them [ … ]
