My bread is not the bread of life: Homily for Sunday, August 4, 2024

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My bread is not the bread of life is

When I was in the fourth grade, the only thing I remembered us doing, we probably did multiplication tables and things like that, but we had a unit on medieval bread. And we saw all kinds of decorative breads, and we, as part of this, we learned how to make bread, and in fact, we did make bread. And this seemed to me like the most amazing thing that could be done.

There were parts of it that were fun. I liked pounding the dough after the yeast was put in, so that it would rise more fully. I didn’t like the mess as I was putting more flour on the dough to make sure that it wasn’t too sticky. During this lesson, there was a decision made by us wise fourth graders that in fact, we would have a bake sale, but the unique factor in this bake sale is that we would make everything ourselves. This seemed like the perfect opportunity for me to show off my newfound bread making skills.

So I decided I was going to make a loaf of bread. So I did the dough, I put the yeast in, it rose, I put it in the oven, and it came out nice and golden brown. I was so proud of myself that I had had this wonderful accomplishment. So proud, in fact, that I really didn’t pay much attention to the fact that the loaf seemed a lot heavier than what I had carried in from the supermarket, but I consoled myself with the fact that it was probably because the bread in the supermarket wasn’t homemade, but this was homemade bread.

So I brought my loaf, which looked great, and what happened was, as people came by to look at the bake sale items, they would pick up the loaf of bread, which was the problem. They’d pick it up, and they’d put it back down. I had paid careful attention to all the details of bread making, except for one. You have to get the level right in the oven for the bread.

And so what had happened was, yes, the bread was wonderfully golden brown on the outside, but in the center it was raw, which accounted for its weight, because the water had not been baked out of the bread. Well, items came and items went, and there was my bread. Items came and items went, and there was my bread still.

Finally, my father came, obviously concerned about his overly enthusiastic son with very heavy bread, and probably at the urging of my mother, came down to the bake sale to buy the loaf of bread. And as he was paying for it, he winked at the kid that was taking the money and said, “This makes really good toast.” Well, it did make really good toast, because the raw dough on the inside became cooked in the toaster. I thought of that experience a lot, because I think that’s when I got my first inkling, even though I wouldn’t have called it that then, of what it means to say that Jesus is the bread of life.

I don’t remember my bread-making failure, and quite frankly, I am not someone you want in the kitchen. I cooked for myself for many years when I was in the diocese, but cooking for others, I just get so stressed and panicked, I just don’t do it. I’ll clean anything you want me to clean, but I don’t like to cook.

Anyway, why was this my first insight into the bread of life? Because my father did not buy this loaf of bread because he thought it would be the most wonderful loaf of bread in the world. He bought it because he loved me. And that’s what I felt that day. I knew there was something wrong with my loaf of bread, but there was nothing wrong with my father’s love for me that day. I know I had a very blessed family. None of us were perfect, but I never for a moment doubted that I was loved, and not just a little bit, but very much.

Today’s readings give us a picture of this same love that Jesus is trying to get us to experience in our own lives. Jesus has multiplied the loaves, a wonderful story that actually shows up in all four Gospels, which is usually a great sign to pay attention carefully to that particular story, because there aren’t very many. A lot of them show up in three, but not in the Gospel of John, but there are some that are in all four Gospels. Ironically, the Last Supper, which is in all four Gospels, is not recorded in the same way. John doesn’t record anything about the Passover. In John’s Gospel, the Last Supper is the time where Jesus washes the feet of the disciples, an important point.

But in the midst of this story, what do we learn? We’re reminded that the people who are in the desert, wandering around, at least appears to them, not seeming to make any progress or going anywhere, are like small children who get tired of driving to wherever the vacation is taking them. They’re cranky, and they don’t want to continue. They don’t want to continue because they’re just convinced that all hope has been lost, and they begin to get nostalgic for their time in Egypt. They begin to think, “You know, it wasn’t so bad there. We at least had some things to eat. We had things to drink.”

Now, they were also slaves who were given an irresponsible amount of work to do, but that was quickly forgotten when they were hungry. But God feeds them. And that’s the message for us, too, today. You know, the Mass is best described as the meeting of heaven and earth, that when we come to the Eucharist, it’s as if God comes down to us from heaven, and Jesus makes himself present in the Eucharist for our salvation.

That’s why as Catholics we believe the Mass is more than just a gathering of people. It’s fine, but if there were only the priest and one other person, that celebration of the Eucharist would be just as infinite as if the church were packed with people. It doesn’t become more infinite because we have more people.

Paul also cautions us against something in the second reading. He cautions us not to rely solely on our gift of reason. He, in fact, says this about the gift of knowledge. “We shouldn’t first live like everybody else. We have been purchased by God and purchased at a price. We are saved. We have entered into the paschal mystery, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

And that means we live differently. We look at people differently. We care for other people differently. We serve other people differently.” But what does he say? Why are the Gentiles not to be copied? Because they live in the futility of their minds. Reason alone is not enough. Reason without faith, as Paul tells us, is futile. It doesn’t accomplish much of anything.

It’s only when we recognize with faith what reason means, what it gives to our life, that we are in fact able to see things as they are. Today we come because Jesus longs to feed you. Jesus longs to feed me. Just as Moses saw the manna coming down from heaven, we see something even more powerful. The Lord Jesus Christ come down from heaven, present to us in the Eucharist, and saving us for all eternity.

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