John 6.22-59
Good
evening, everyone.
As
we gather here in the heart of London,
in this space that has long stood as
a sanctuary
for those seeking nourishment for
body and soul,
I’d
like to invite us this evening to reflect on the words of Jesus:
“I am the bread of life.”
These
are words both comforting and confronting
—an invitation to be fed,
but also a challenge to consider
what it is we hunger for.
Consumerism
and Consumption
We
live in a world that tells us, relentlessly,
that we are what we consume.
This
past Christmas season provided a stark reminder of that truth.
Did you know that in December,
UK shoppers spent billions online in
just a matter of days?
Retailers
announced record sales figures
even as food banks issued urgent
pleas for donations
to meet unprecedented demand.
The
cost-of-living crisis rages on,
yet our society is caught in a
tension:
the
pressure to consume and the reality of scarcity.
But
this isn’t just about money or shopping;
it’s about the deeper narratives
that shape us.
Consumerism
tells us that fulfilment lies just one purchase away.
But consumption—whether of food,
possessions, or even experiences—
can never fully satisfy the human
soul.
And
so, we are left hungering for something more.
The
Bread of Life in Context
Jesus’
declaration that he is the bread of life
comes against this backdrop of human
hunger,
both literal and spiritual.
In
John 6, we meet a crowd who had followed Jesus
after he miraculously fed thousands
with just a few loaves and fishes.
Their
physical hunger had been met,
but Jesus wanted to take them
deeper.
“Do
not work for the food that perishes,” he said,
“but for the food that endures for
eternal life.”
The
crowd’s response is telling.
They ask for another sign,
referencing the manna their
ancestors received in the wilderness.
And
here, Jesus makes a bold claim:
“I am the bread of life.
Whoever comes to me will
never be hungry,
and whoever believes in
me will never be thirsty.”
A
Counter-Cultural Act
To
say that Jesus is the bread of life
is to offer a direct challenge to
the narratives of consumerism
that dominate our world.
At
communion, when we break bread together,
we enact a counter-cultural story.
The
broken bread is not a commodity to be bought or sold;
it is a gift, freely given.
It
calls us into a new kind of economy
—one of grace, not greed;
of sharing, not hoarding.
This
is not just a spiritual truth but a deeply practical one.
The
act of coming to the table of Jesus compels us
to examine how we live in the world.
How
do our consumption habits
—what we eat, what we buy, how we
spend our time—
reflect our hunger for Jesus, the
true bread?
Modern
Examples of Hunger and Hope
Let’s
bring this closer to home.
In
the UK today, we see both abundance and scarcity
in stark juxtaposition.
Food
waste from supermarkets runs into the millions of tonnes,
while families struggle to afford
even the basics.
Housing
developments spring up across our city,
while homelessness persists on our
streets.
Yet
even in the midst of this brokenness,
there are glimpses of hope.
Community
fridges, mutual aid networks,
and initiatives like The Connection
at St Martin’s
remind
us of what is possible when we commit to sharing what we have.
These
are not just acts of charity; they are acts of solidarity,
rooted in the radical sharing that
Jesus models for us.
Bread
in the Wilderness
As
we reflect on Jesus’ claim to be the bread of life,
we are reminded of another story of
bread
—the manna in the wilderness.
For
the Israelites fleeing slavery in Egypt,
manna was a daily reminder of God’s
provision.
They
could not store it up;
they had to trust that God would
provide each day.
The
daily dependence on manna
became a metaphor for the spiritual
nourishment found in God’s word.
As
Deuteronomy 8:3 reminds us,
“One does not live by bread alone,
but by every word that comes from
the mouth of the Lord.”
Jesus’
audience would have understood this connection.
But
when Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life,”
he was taking it further.
He
was not just offering a metaphor; he was offering himself.
The
Bread That Truly Satisfies
So
what does it mean to eat the bread of life?
It
means allowing Jesus to nourish
not just our bodies but our souls.
It
means trusting in his promises
even when the world feels uncertain.
It
means recognising that the bread he offers
—his own life, broken for us—
is
the only thing that can truly satisfy our deepest hunger.
But
this bread is not just for us as individuals;
it is for the world.
Jesus’
invitation to “eat” the bread of life
is an invitation to participate in
his mission.
When
we share in the bread and wine at communion,
we are reminded that we are called
to be Christ’s body in the world
—broken for the sake of others,
poured out in love and service.
Eternal
Life in the Present
Jesus’
promise of eternal life is not just about life after death.
It is about life here and now
—a life of abundance, of justice, of
peace.
When
we live in the reality of God’s kingdom,
we begin to see each moment as part
of eternity.
As
Francis of Assisi once said,
when asked what he would do if he
knew he were to die that evening,
“I would finish hoeing my garden.”
This
perspective liberates us.
It frees us from the fear of
scarcity and death,
allowing us to live generously and
courageously.
It
calls us to challenge the systems that dehumanise and exploit,
and to proclaim, in word and deed,
the good news of God’s kingdom.
This
is what happens when we break bread and share it in memory of Jesus.
At
communion, we learn to see the world
through the eyes of those who suffer
and are marginalised.
We
take the bread of life and the wine of suffering into ourselves,
and we are transformed as we
identify with the crucified Christ.
A
Call to Communion
So as we gather at this table tonight,
we are not simply consuming bread
and wine.
We
are participating in a story that upends the logic of our world.
In
the broken body of Christ, we see the cost of consumption
—but also the possibility of
redemption.
Jesus’
self-giving love challenges us
to confront the systems of
exploitation and greed
that dehumanise us
and to commit ourselves to living
differently.
This
is not easy.
It
requires us to unlearn habits of entitlement and accumulation
and to embrace instead a posture of
gratitude and generosity.
It
calls us to ask hard questions:
How do the choices we make as
individuals and as a society
reflect our hunger for justice, for
peace, for the kingdom of God?
Closing
Invitation
As
we approach this table,
let us come with open hands and open
hearts,
ready to be fed but also ready to be
changed.
Let
us take within ourselves the bread of life that is Jesus,
trusting that in him, our deepest
hungers can be met.
And
as we rise from this meal,
let us go out into the world as
people nourished and sent,
committed to sharing the bread of
life with others.
May
we, through Christ,
learn to hunger for justice more
than comfort,
for community more than consumption,
and
for the living bread that sustains us in every season.
Amen.
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