Sunday 8th August
Let me start with an anecdote. When Paul and I got married in Nottingham, we had a second small reception here for many who couldn’t travel. Paul managed the menu and as he knew what people here liked, I left him to it. When we sat down to the meal, the large roast potatoes came first. I expected that – Paul loves his roast potatoes. What I didn’t expect was for it to be followed by more potato – champ. I was just recovering from the shock of champ, when a third potato dish arrived. Creamy, garlicy Dauphinoise potatoes. I barely managed to wait until the servers left before leaning over to Paul and saying “three potato dishes…what were you thinking?” Paul beamed and said “we like potatoes here… everyone will be pleased.”
I realised that day, that potatoes were the staple diet here – the equivalent of rice in Sri Lanka. Potatoes were so basic to life here, that during the potato famine in Ireland, people died or migrated.
In Israel the staples were bread and wine, and Jesus uses this metaphor of Bread to tell us something profound. If Jesus was Irish, perhaps he would have called himself the Potato of Life, the Spud from Heaven. If He had been Sri Lankan, he might have been the Rice of life!
When Jesus says that He is the Bread of life, the Bread from Heaven, the living Bread, he is speaking into two of humanity’s deepest needs throughout history. These same needs have also been at the forefront of our consciousness throughout this pandemic.
Firstly, Jesus speaks to the human need and search for meaning and purpose in life.
The feeling that life is meaningless is not new. Here in Northern Ireland the high suicide rates reveals the depth of the problem. Ecclesiastes, that Biblical book of existential angst, is a poem that captures the feeling of futility in life. The opening lines declare “All is vanity…all things are full of weariness, what has been is what will be…there is nothing new under the sun.” These words capture something of the mood of many people in these pandemic years.
We see the search for meaning throughout the world, in all religions and rituals. In literature, too. Existentialist philosophers, writers and playwrights wrestled with meaning – or its absence. Albert Camus, in his book The Stranger, describes a man so detached that he has no emotion or feeling. We have Samuel Beckett’s drama – Waiting for Godot – where pointless characters wait meaninglessly, for something to happen. Monty Python’s Galaxy Song summarises humanity’s smallness in a vast universe.
To ALL our hunger and thirst for meaningful life, Jesus offers himself as the living Bread who gives meaning and purpose to life. “I am the Bread of Life” – your staple diet. Without me, you cannot survive.
Secondly, Jesus speaks into the human fear of death, and our desire for immortality. The longing for immortality is at the heart of many burial rituals from the Egyptian pyramids to Neolithic graves in Ireland. In the Medieval period, alchemists searched for the fabled Philosopher’s Stone reputed to give immortality. Here in the 21st century we have cryogenics, where people can be frozen and preserved at death in the hope of being awakened later.
Into this existential fear of death and longing for immortality, Jesus declares that He the Living bread from heaven and will give eternal life to all who eat it. To those who are terrified of death and mortality, Jesus says: “in me, you have eternal life.” As that well known Christmas reading from Luke puts it, Jesus “gives light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.”
We often think of eternal life as something that happens after we die. But eternal life in God’s Kingdom begins here and now and continues after death. Jesus brought the Kingdom of God to Earth. And so we pray as Jesus taught us, “Thy Kingdom come; Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.” It is an acknowledgement that we are citizens of God’s eternal Kingdom that spans both time and space. We are citizens both of Heaven and Earth – a foot in each realm, so to speak. Like the children in CS Lewis’ Narnia series, who belong in both Narnia and our world, we also belong in two worlds.
If ever we needed meaning in life and awareness of eternity, it is now. This pandemic has forced us to confront both.
Once we accept this gift of life – “abundant life” as Jesus calls it – this gift of eternity, how should we live?
Our epistle today picks up this theme of new life in Jesus, and how we must live that out in His Eternal Kingdom. In the earlier verses of Ephesians, St Paul compares our old lives that were “alienated from the life of God,” to our new lives in Christ. He tells us to “put away” our former way of life and our old selves, and become renewed, clothed in our new selves, created according to the likeness of God, in righteousness and holiness. We must be imitators of God in this new life we have.
But what does it mean to imitate God?
“Imitate” comes from the Greek root “mimesis.” In the New Testament Greek world, mimesis word describes a student/teacher relationship. Students followed, lived with, learned from and imitated their teachers – in conduct, morality and philosophy. It was a way of life, not about information and exams. St. Paul’s readers would have understood what “imitate” meant. It was a call to follow the Master, learn from him how to think and live. St. Paul later says “imitate me, as I imitate Christ.”
All disciples – including us – are imitators of Christ, called to live out the Christ-life. Ephesians captures a little bit of how to live – being tender hearted, putting away bitterness and anger, being kind, forgiving. But the New Testament is full of how to live as imitators and disciples of Christ. We need to digest it – to eat this bread of life – and live by it.
Jesus offers himself – He is the Bread of life, the Bread from Heaven, giving eternal life. Like the first century Jews, we have a choice. We can believe that Jesus is who he claims to be, or not. As Jesus says: you can come to me the living Bread and never be hungry, you can believe in me at have eternal life. Or you can turn away.
But if we choose to accept and believe, we are to be imitators of God, followers, living his Kingdom values. Our Christian life is not primarily about doctrines and beliefs – though the church often makes it so. That rarely draws people to Christ! People are drawn to Jesus by our likeness to him.
Most of us know about the three young black Christian footballers who took penalties for England in the Euro finals, and how they were racially abused and vilified after they missed. A recent article in the Guardian describes the power of their faith, the influence they have, and how they are inspiring children. For these three young men, faith is not about assenting to a set of beliefs or creeds or doctrines. It is about embodying their faith in Jesus, living it out, being attentive around them. This week one of them, Marcus Rashford, was helping needy families to receive their food vouchers.
As we prepare for the Eucharist today – do we really believe that Jesus is the Bread of Life, the Bread from heaven? That He gives meaning in life and eternal life? If we believe Jesus is the Living Bread, it will transform us.
Are we imitators of God? If we are, it will transform our world.