Yesterday's Bread

A sermon preached with the people of St. Francis of Assisi Episcopal Church in Youngsville, Pennsylvania and Holy Trinity Memorial Episcopal Church in Warren, Pennsylvania.

This morning in John’s Gospel we pick up in that place where we left off last week, just after the feeding of the 5,000.

As the people awaken from their sleep, they get a sense that something has changed. That feeling of “being full” – that feeling they wanted to hold onto forever – has shifted. That old, gnawing wanting-for-more has returned. And then, news begins to spread through the crowd: Jesus has departed from this place. And so have his disciples.

The people want to feel full. They want what they felt in the presence of Jesus. They want to live inside of it forever. And so they get into boats, and journey across the sea to find him.

And they do find him.

And when they find him, Jesus explains that what they are looking for cannot be found in yesterday’s bread.

What they are looking for is fresh and new.  It is in fact an entirely new way of living and being. And that new way will yield bread that will fill body, mind and spirit every day.

What they are looking for is not actually the bread, or a person who will perform signs on command.

What they are looking for, the feeling of that grassy place they are hoping to reclaim, is the feeling of life in God’s kingdom.

And yet – then as now, we can’t help but chase after yesterday’s bread.

So many of us – myself included – chase after titles, positions of power, fame and fortune, acceptance and popularity, perfection and mastery.

And chasing after these things is not inherently bad or wrong. But it will hollow us out if we begin to think the chase or what it yields has anything to do with the fundamental truth of who we are. And who we are is so precious that God offers that feeling of fullness based on the truth of our very being. Not on our achievements, or our particular talents or brilliance. On our being.

So that feeling on the grass that day? That feeling of fullness? I think that’s the feeling we get when we trust – we really trust – in the value of our whole selves. And, crucially, in the same value in every other human being.

The whole world watched this week as gymnast Simone Biles withdrew from team and all around competition at the Olympic Games. And subsequently those of us not well-versed in the world of competitive gymnastics have learned about the dreaded “twisties,” when an athlete’s “mind and body are not in sync.” A dangerous condition that can result in severe injury.  

And the world, initially anyway, was shocked. Shocked that Biles would not risk serious injury – physical and psychological -- and just move forward.

Shocked that she would not keep chasing gold.

Shocked that she would not keep chasing yesterday’s bread.

It seems Biles herself, was a bit shocked to find what can happen when, even for a moment, you stop the chase.

She tweeted, “the outpouring love & support I’ve received has made me realize I’m more than my accomplishments and gymnastics which I never truly believed before.”

Simone Biles gave the world, and it seems herself, a reminder of where our belovedness does and does not lie. She is an extraordinary talent. An athlete the likes of which we’ve never seen. And those things matter, and are God-given, and bring joy and inspiration to the world. But those things do not make this woman beloved. Gold does not make this woman beloved. Her belovedness is wrapped up in her very being, made in the image of God.

We certainly are not all Olympic-level athletes. But I’d venture to guess we all have our own version of chasing after yesterday’s bread in an effort to fill empty space within us and make us feel full. Even when it’s not good for us. Even when it may injure us.

And the world around us encourages that chase.

But, as we talked about last week, accepting the invitation of the feeding of the 5,000 is not about a one-time material need met. It is about a new imagination. A new way of life.

And we won’t get there by chasing yesterday’s bread. And we certainly won’t get there by trying to chase down God. Because God is already right here. Ready to make us full, over and over and over.

If we’ll commit to a new, different, and in many ways, harder way of being.

A way of being that revolves around the fundamental belief in our own belovedness and the belovedness of all of creation. A way of being that holds us just as responsible for our neighbor as we are for ourselves. A way of being that celebrates the unique joy each one of us brings, but does not confuse personal achievements with belovedness.

A way of being that gives us permission to stop chasing yesterday’s bread and accept God’s gift of the bread of life.

And that, friends, will make us full.