Sunday: 9th Sunday after Pentecost
Reading: John 6:24-35
Preacher: S. James Steen

Having just returned from vacation, I am keenly aware of the importance of food in my life. I'm aware that I've put on a few pounds; but what really strikes me from the past few weeks, during which we have eaten in restaurants much of the time, is having wanted to be sure that I wouldn't miss out on the very best cuisine available, nearly every night. Early in the day, I, or someone I was with, would say something like, "Where shall we have dinner tonight?" I would then peruse one of several "apps" on my iPhone designed to seek out precisely the right restaurant, one with the right national cuisine and as a further refinement one with, say, classical French, country French, or Provençal cuisine, also with the right location, the right ambiance (including noise level), the right level of service, and, not insignificantly, the right price. Having compiled a short list, we might even walk or drive by the top contenders to see if they looked promising.

This type of "foodieness" may seem a long way from the situation of the people portrayed in the manna story from Exodus and the feeding story in John. And yet, on closer examination, their situation and what I've described are not entirely unrelated. Did you notice the word "fleshpot" in the manna story? The complaining Jews, hungry for the abundance of food they have left behind in Egypt, cry out to Moses and Aaron that they would be better off as slaves back in Egypt, where they had sat beside fleshpots. A fleshpot was a large cauldron used by luxuriating Egyptians to cook meat. So, even though the term fleshpot did not carry the salacious meaning it bears today, it did suggest the sensual, pleasurable aspect of consuming satisfying food.

Anyone who doubts that the Israelites concern was for something finer than mere bread and the alleviation of hunger should reread the following remarkably vivid passage: "The rabble among them had a strong craving; and the Israelites also wept again, and said, 'If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we used to eat in Egypt for nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic; but now...there is nothing at all but this manna to look at.'" (Numbers 11:4-6)

Although what they crave is superficially different from the followers of Moses in the dessert, those who follow Jesus across the lake in today's Gospel passage are just as dissatisfied with the manna he has provided for them. Just the day before, he and his disciples had fed these seekers richly, in fact 5,000 of them in all. You may recall that John describes a scene of utter abundance. Not only did Jesus provide enough to feed the multitudes; having begun with just five loaves of bread, when the feast ended, there were twelve baskets of bread left over. For a moment, the people were so impressed that they named Jesus as the prophet they had been hoping for, for centuries.

But the people's memory was incredibly short - like so much of what we experience today. If Barack Obama doesn't instantly produce a perfect health care plan, his support begins to erode. "You, O Barack, aren't the savior we thought you were, after all! Give us a miracle or we won't believe." Fickleness, impatience, and craving are not limited to any time in history. Not satisfied with having been fed so generously, the people follow Jesus across the lake, and they demand a new sign. Actually, they want two things, more to eat and a new miracle that will convince them of Jesus worthiness. They want it all. "What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you [going to be] performing [now]?"

Do you know the term "affluenza?" Affluenza is as contagious as influenza, but rather than a physical disease, it's a disease of the spirit. It originated with a show that aired on Public Television and it describes the insatiable craving to be more and more affluent, to have more and more of the latest, fanciest, most refined possessions, to bask in the most luxurious of everything, to have the latest gadgets, the hottest cars, the tiniest iPod. Some of us even suffer from what might be called "iPhonenza." Did you see how Apple's profits jumped with the recent introduction of the latest iPhone?

The people who followed Jesus across the lake suffered not so much from affluenza as a related disease that is also as old as humankind and remains with us today: "Certaintyitis." When we suffer from this disease, no sign, no miracle, no wonder, no amount of evidence is ever enough. Oh, we may be relieved - even satisfied - for a time. But then, like those who followed Jesus across the lake, the old doubts creep in again and we're off demanding another sign, some new work of wonder.

Jesus understood that the root of all this malaise is an insatiable need to fill a yearning deep within us. Maybe, if we eat enough, drink enough, buy enough, achieve enough, prove enough - you name your poison - maybe we'll finally overcome our dreaded emptiness and we'll be okay. But Jesus knew what we all know down deep: when we seek superficial antidotes, gorging only begets more craving.

That's why Jesus offers us an alternate possibility. In John, he tells the crowds what seems too good to be true, that he is the true bread, God's bread, which gives life to the world. That is why he issues this remarkable invitation: "Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty."

The way I see it, Jesus isn't so much demanding that we believe in him in some dogmatic way, which easily becomes just another quest for certainty, as he is calling us to give up our quest for certainty and simply to trust him and to follow him. In return, he promises that we will discover what John calls abundant life, a life where we become more and more aware of the abundance in our lives and less prone to view life through a lens of scarcity.

This doesn't mean that we lose interest in the good things that life provides, like garlic. But it does mean that we seek a balance and become less concerned about what we have and don't have and more concerned about others, especially those who have little or nothing. Ironically, the more we give away, the less we crave. Jesus knew that secret; for his total trust in God led him to give away everything.

Amen.