The Bread of Life
Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
1 Kings 19:4–8 / Psalm 34:9a / Ephesians 4:30 — 5:2 / John 6:41–51
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Understanding the Word
By Br. John R. Barker, OFM
The song makes me quake inside even now. The first time I heard it, I was at a large conference. Still young in faith, I sang the chorus with my whole being as several thousand people processed toward the altar, “And I will raise you up, and I will raise you up, and I will raise you up on the last day.” My ribcage swelled with elation. My mind floated into grandeur. My heart burned with the promise of eternal life. There was nothing so rich as the Bread of Life, here, present among us.
Strengthened by that food, I have walked for the forty years that have followed.
The song goes on: “You who come to me shall not hunger; you who believe in me shall not thirst.” The internal quavering starts again: the vision so rich, the reality so imperfect. I want not to thirst. I want not to be hungry. But I thirst. I hunger. That chasm between what could be and what is, that ache, that yearning for something more, trembles within me.
I walk down the steps. My thumb and forefinger dip into the ciborium, select a small round host and hold it up to the first young man in line: “The Body of Christ.” People come forward in a stream. Hands extend in front of me: rough hands, manicured hands. Some tongues lengthen. Then more hands: flat hands, young hands, shrunken hands, eager hands.
“The Bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world,” sings the congregation. Do we recognize the magnitude of what we are doing here? No? A little bit? I shiver again as we sing, “Yes, Lord, I believe, that you are the Christ . . .” And they keep coming. Palms unfold, reaching for the Bread of Life, murmuring “Amen,” “Amen,” “Amen,” to the grandeur in our midst.
Consider/Discuss
- God asks us to sing a song of surrender as we receive the Body of Christ. We have nothing to give but ourselves as we open our hands. In the strength of that food, how can we walk another forty years, even if it takes us into the gates of heaven?
- Creation is radiant with the splendor of God. Sometimes we perceive that glory. Other times, the world just looks drab. On this summer day, with the Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, where do we see the grandeur of God “flaming out”? Is it only in church? Do we experience it at other times as well?
Living and Praying with the Word
Lord Jesus, Bread of Life, your love burns within me. Your Body and Blood sustain me. Your life invigorates me. And yet, never do I get enough of you. On this side of heaven, I still shake with longing for you to come, come heal the brokenness of this world and my life. I cannot grasp you. But you seize me. You are with us in the breaking of the bread. Amen.