Baking Bread, Practicing Hope - John 6:51-58
Well folks, as promised: more bread. I must admit, it has been wonderful to read and study the Bread of Life Discourse from John’s Gospel with a fresh perspective this summer. This is because, in the pandemic, bread has taken on new meaning for us here in the U.S. and even across the globe. In the spring of 2020, when there was danger and uncertainly everywhere we looked, when we were stuck in our own homes with no end in sight, many people devoted their time and energy to the ancient practice of bread baking. There were a couple of weeks there when my Instagram was filled with loaf after loaf of really impressive-looking sourdough.
There is archeological evidence that humans have been baking bread for around 10,000 years, about as long as we’ve been farming. We can’t be certain about the early development of the practice, but it’s a pretty safe bet that it went something like this: first, people realized they could grind up the flower of the wheat plant into an edible, mealy substance we call flour. Then they realized they could add water to the flour and cook the resulting dough over a flame for a fluffy and flavorful product.
Then one day, someone left their dough sitting out, and it collected yeast. These are microorganisms in the fungus kingdom that occur naturally all over the environment, on plants, on human skin, even floating around in the air. The yeast appeared in the dough as bubbles and made for an even fluffier, even tastier baked loaf. It wasn’t long before yeast was being cultivated for just this purpose, and the rest, as they say, is history. I would be remiss if I did not also mention that major development in the production and usage of yeast came from beer brewers in the 19th century - who, at the time, were almost exclusively women.
Even with such interesting and quirky history, I found myself wondering, why did we go back to making homemade bread during the pandemic. In a fabulous article for Vox.com that I cannot recommend enough, writer Emily VanDerWerff offered a variety of answers to my question.
We bake bread to feel like we have control over something. With so many unknowns about the Covid-19 virus spiraling around in our heads, bread making can offer a few hours of knowing exactly what to do to achieve a desired outcome.
We bake bread as a distraction. Focusing on a recipe means not focusing on the heartbreaking statistics on the news.
We bake bread to communicate. I can’t give you a hug or even tell you that I love you from a reasonable distance without a mask on, but I can drop this banana bread loaf off on your porch.
We bake bread to remember. Many people have rediscovered childhood memories and connections with ancestors they may or may not have known through bread recipes passed down through the generations.
We bake bread so that we can have hope.
This is my favorite reason that VanDerWerff offers. She says that making dough to bake is an investment in the future. Yes, only the very, very near future, but the practice of making that investment turns us into practicers of hope. This is precisely what Jesus is trying to tell us in our Gospel passage today.
This is the third week in the Bread of Life Discourse, and today the narrative takes a decisive turn. We still begin with Christ’s proclamation that he is the Bread of Life. But whereas before our instructions included seeing him, believing in him, and coming to him, now our instructions include eating the bread, which is his very flesh. Things just got real. As theologian and professor Robert Koch explains, in this portion of narrative, we move from metaphor to Eucharistic reality.
We’ve wrestled with what it might look like to turn towards God for whatever satisfaction we need. Now, a new instruction has been introduced, an instruction to participate in something, to take an active role in our own spiritual fulfillment. I think that Jesus is challenging his listeners to expand our understanding of what nourishment is. True nourishment is not just about having our immediate physical needs met, although this is an important part. It’s also not just about turning to God for satisfaction when we feel empty, although this is an important part, too. Jesus is showing us that true nourishment is also about being practitioners of the Kingdom, practitioners of hope.
Right here, in the middle of the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John, is the core of our Eucharistic theology: every time we act out being the Body of Christ by gathering together at this table to break bread in Christ’s name, we, like bread bakers everywhere, are making a small investment in the future. We are practicing living fully into the Kingdom of God that is to come, in which everyone is fully nourished from God’s feast. When we take communion, we are practicing hope. And the more we practice, the better and more authentic we’ll be.
It’s hard to believe it, but school starts back tomorrow. Also hard to believe is that this pandemic just keeps raging on. I don’t blame anyone, especially anyone who has or works with young children, for feeling overwhelmed and perhaps even a little hopeless. Perhaps some of us are even back to baking bread at home on a regular basis. But there are things we can do to help protect ourselves and our kids and our kids’ futures. Whenever possible, we can get vaccinated and wear masks and practice social distancing. And whenever possible - once a week, once a month, once a year, online - we can come together to partake of the Bread of Life, to nourish our souls, to share in that glimpse of the Kingdom, to practice having hope for the future.
I doubt Christ could have predicted a global pandemic 2000 years after his Ascension that would have people renewing and deepening their relationship with bread. But I doubt he’s surprised that we have clung to this pastime in our time of need. Because when hope and nourishment are hard to find, a little Bread of Life, literal and physical, goes a long way. Amen.