A version of this article originally appeared on 1517.
To properly understand what Jesus says and does throughout Chapter 6 of John’s Gospel, you should know that he is talking about something far deeper than mere “food.” The focus of this is, of course, “the food that endures” or the “bread from heaven.” But when Jesus refers to this bread, he does not just have in mind food that is made from some combination of flour, water, and salt (and, in most cases, some kind of leavening agent). As with many other occasions within Jesus’s teaching ministry, this discourse revolves around an illustration that is meant to demonstrate something truer and more profound. In the simplest of terms, Jesus is talking about faith or religion, especially that which leads to everlasting life. It is important to know this at the beginning since he uses the universal habit of eating to show this group of Jews — and us, too — what true religion or true faith looks like.
Humanity, of course, has a long relationship with bread. It is one of the most commonly recurring sources of food throughout the history of civilization. As long as humans have been on this earth they have seemingly been baking bread, to the point where nearly every culture or people group has its own version of bread making, each with its own unique spin, leading to thousands of bread varieties from which to choose. Not all breads are the same, though; some are better than others (but all are better than pumpernickel!). Similarly, not all religions are the same either, even though many scholars and academics would love to convince you otherwise. The modern push for “religious tolerance” and agreeance has seeped into ecclesiological spheres, so much so that according to the latest State of Theology survey, evangelically-minded Christians agreed at a rate of 56 percent with the following statement: “God accepts the worship of all religions, including Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.”
This, of course, is categorically and biblically false. God is not okay with other forms of worship, just as long as we believe in “something.” Nor should we just sing Kumbaya since we’re all going to the same place anyway. Sorry (not sorry) to burst the bubble of those preaching the “gospel of tolerance,” but God is not accepting of any other religion or faith. This is a flagrant disregard for what God said to his people in the very first commandment: “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exod. 20:3) — not to mention the fact that this ignores the parts of the Bible where God says that he is jealous for his people (cf. Exod. 34:14; Deut. 4:24). Accordingly, just like it matters what you eat or ingest if you are concerned with your physical health, so, too, does it matter what you eat or believe when it comes to your spiritual health and your eternal life. Thus with a simple morsel like a piece of bread, the Lord Jesus shows some first-century Galileans — and us — how to live forever. It all depends on what type of bread you are ingesting.
Bread that’s imperishable.
We pick up the story in verses 25 and 26, where Jesus has an odd exchange with some Jewish strangers who approach the Teacher from Nazareth and ask when he came to the, to which Jesus effectively replies, “Why do you want to know?” The reason why Jesus’s reply is so short is explained by the preceding verses (John 6:22–24). In short, the group of Jews who were looking for Jesus were part of the crowd who were fed the day before with a mere “five loaves and two fishes.” They returned to the beach the following morning to find Jesus but he was nowhere to be found. The last time they saw him, he was heading into the hill country on their side of the Sea of Galilee, while his disciples rowed to the other side (John 6:14–15). Since some in the crowd had, perhaps, overheard that his followers were going to Capernaum, they went to look for him there. When they landed, though, Jesus was already there, prompting their question, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” (John 6:25). How did you get over here so fast? They were completely unaware of the other miracle that happened the night before, when Jesus walked on the water (John 6:16–21).
Jesus, however, was disinterested in the Jews’ line of questioning, mainly because he knew what they were really after. “You are seeking me, not because you saw signs,” he says, “but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him, God the Father has set his seal” (John 6:26–27). Jesus cuts right to the chase. This little band of Jews had sought him out but they hadn’t really sought him. He wasn’t their true objective. They weren’t seeking him because they believed in him, they were seeking him because they were bewitched by him; because of the miracle they had witnessed the day before. Even though they had been a part of something that defied nature, they had failed to notice the true significance of what it was all meant to show them. “You’re here because I filled your bellies,” Jesus attests. “You’re here to repeat yesterday. But I’m telling you that you’ve missed the point!” This was most certainly true.
This search party had completely missed what Jesus was telling them. The heart of their misunderstanding is revealed in verse 28, where they inquire, “What must we do, to be doing the works of God?” (John 6:28). Out of all the words Jesus spoke to them, they latch on to what they had to “do.” “Tell us what to do,” they claim, “and we’ll do it!” In many ways, this is mankind’s impression of religion or faith in general. It is always hyper-focused on what man can do or has to do to achieve eternal life. Paradise, we are told, is attainable by us — by our work, energy, and effort. Fulfillment is within our grasp. All we need is a to-do list or an itemized breakdown of things that need to be done by us, right? According to Jesus, to assume that you can “do” your way into everlasting life is like working for “food that perishes” (John 6:27). The result of all that striving and working is like being handed a perished and moldy loaf of bread. Who would want that?
The “morsel of religion” that mankind most often feeds on is concerned with the works of man; with what he can do. But this never does what we hope it will do for us because any religion whose hope is centered on us and what we need to “do” is nothing but a loaf of bread that is rotten and spoiled. It cannot nourish, fill, or satisfy you. The more you indulge in it and ingest it, the more unhealthy you become. A religion of works is a religion of perished goods that leave you starving. True religion and true faith are based on something better and truer, that is to say, something imperishable and divine. Specifically, as Jesus declares, it is derived from the work of the one whom God sends into the world. “This is the work of God,” he affirms, “that you believe in him whom he has sent” (John 6:29). “You want to be ‘doing the works of God’? Do you want to know what ‘to do’?” the Lord says, almost ironically. “Try doing nothing.”
Mankind cannot do anything to work his way into everlasting life. His only hope is to cease his “doing” and stop relying on his own works and trust in the one who is sent by God to deliver him and give the life that never dies. “The office of faith is not to work, but to cease working,” Horatius Bonar says, “not to do anything, but to own that all is done; not to bring near the righteousness, but to rejoice in it as already near” (83). The only “work” that matters for securing eternal life is the work of God’s Son, who is none other than Jesus himself. No matter how religious they are, our works are like bread that perishes, but the work of Jesus is imperishable. It is perennially fresh. It never fades, spoils, or decays. His is the unblemished work of the one who comes to bring the blessing of everlasting life to those who are lost and dying. Like the loaves the day before, God’s blessing of eternal life can’t be earned or worked for; it can only be received.
Bread that’s heavenly.
According to Jesus, true bread, a.k.a. true religion, is not only imperishable but also heavenly. In response to Jesus’s unprecedented assertion that faith is all that counts, the Jews press Jesus for “proof” that his words are true, which betrays how beholden they are to their traditions (John 6:30–31). “What work do you perform?” they shriek. “Show us a sign!” This, of course, is more than a little laughable since they were among the crowd the day before. They missed the sign that was right in front of them! Even still, they double down on their unbelief by bringing Moses into the conversation. Steeped as they were in the history of their people, these Jews proceeded to claim that Moses’s manna was still more impressive than Jesus’s loaves. “You fed us for an afternoon, but Moses fed us for years. What do you have to say about that? Can you top that?” This is how devoted they were to Moses and their creeds and what they thought Moses had given them.
Undeterred, Jesus proceeded to burst their Mosaic bubble, and that for which they supposed he was responsible. “Truly, truly, I say to you,” the Lord replies, “it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world” (John 6:32–33). Moses wasn’t behind the manna; that wasn’t him! That was a gift from Yahweh. But, more to the point, the manna itself is not the “true bread,” nor could it ever be, because even manna had an expiration date (John 6:49). The manna of the wilderness was a miracle, but it was no more miraculous than the previous day’s loaves. After all, Israelites in the wilderness had to collect manna every morning because they were hungry every day. Similarly, the crowd that ate the miraculous loaves would still be hungry again later that evening. All of which to say, that neither the manna nor the loaves, in and of themselves, could do what anyone hoped. Neither was the “food that endures” or satisfies. Neither the manna nor the loaves are the point. Rather, they are symbols to point us to the one who is! Just like the manna, Jesus says the “true bread” will “come down” from heaven to give life. The true bread, that is “the bread of God,” is bread that truly, fully, and freely satisfies (John 6:50). As hard as he tries, though, this is something man can never do for himself.
Despite what the latest Gallup Poll data might tell you, this is one of the “most religious” generations we have ever seen. The religion “nones” who are by and large leaving traditional or organized religion are still engaging in religious pursuits. The issue is we are increasingly religious about a great many things other than God. As David Zahl notes in his trenchant book, Seculosity, “Our religious crisis today is not that religion is on the wane, but that we are more religious than ever, and about too many things” (185). Whether it is our political affiliation, our social media presence, our career, our fitness, our activism, or our philosophies, we are looking in all the wrong places for what only God can give us. Accordingly, if your religion, your faith, or your reason for hope is tethered to anything earthbound, it will never do what you think it will do. True religion or true faith is heavenly. It understands that mankind’s only hope has to come from outside of itself. Like the Jews who resolved to stay true to the false hope of Moses, we, too, often succumb to the so-called hope of things found “under the sun.” But these things cannot fill us, nor can they withstand the weight of religious fervor we place upon them, primarily because they were never meant to. This is, perhaps, best articulated by the 17th-century French physicist and mathematician Blaise Pascal, when he writes:
There was once in man a true happiness, of which there now remains to him but the mark and the empty trace, which he vainly tries to fill from all that surrounds him, seeking from things absent the succour he finds not in things present; and these are all inadequate, because this infinite void [or soul] can only be filled by an infinite and immutable object, that is to say, only by God himself. (95–96)
As virtuous as mankind’s ideas are, as noble as his projects may be, they all fall short of what God determines to give us — namely, the “food that endures to eternal life” or the bread that allows you to “live forever.”
Bread that’s living.
Earlier in the narrative, Jesus refers to the “Son of Man” without any indication that he is talking about himself (John 6:27). But even after the Lord put a dent in their misshapen devotion to Moses, the Jews are still fixated on literal bread. “Where can we find this bread? Is there a recipe you can give us?” they seem to say (John 6:34). Consequently, when they still didn’t get it, Jesus came right out and said what he meant in some of the most profound words the Savior ever uttered. “I am the bread of life,” he declares, “whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. But I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe. All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out. For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me” (John 6:35–38). What they were searching for was right in front of them! The “bread of life,” that is, true religion, was not found in a recipe of mankind’s achievements. Nor could it ever be attained by what they did.
The “bread of life” is a person. It is Jesus himself. His work, what he has come to do, is the “food that endures”; that never spoils or perishes. He himself is the one who “comes down from heaven” to give life to the world and to satiate the soul of every sinner and sufferer. How does he intend to do this? By giving us himself. “I am the bread of life,” he reiterates. “Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh” (John 6:47–51). He alone is the “living bread” and the bread he has in mind is his flesh. This, of course, has nothing to do with cannibalism and everything to do with faith. The Lord Jesus is using the physicality of bread, blood, and flesh as a parable of the gospel. He is illustrating the act of believing through the act of eating. Just as you eat bread and its nutrients are absorbed throughout your body, so, too, are God’s blessings, not the least of which is everlasting life, made yours by what religion you feed on; by what you believe; by faith alone.
The only diet or religion that offers genuine satisfaction and sustenance is the one that feeds on what the Christ of God has done and ingests his work for sinners. This is why Jesus says to “feed on him.” “As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me,” he proclaims. “This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever” (John 6:57–58). The “bread” he is talking about is himself and what he came into the world to do, which was to overthrow the powers of sin and death and raise up for himself a people made righteous in his very own righteousness. Jesus accomplished this when he took all your sin, shame, and irreligion and died for it all on the cross. “This living Bread, the flesh of Jesus sacrificed on the cross,” notes R. C. H. Lenski, “is so full of life and salvation that all the world may take and eat and live forever” (487). Accordingly, the death and resurrection of Jesus serve as the church’s meal. He is the bread of which we partake; that we ingest. Christ alone is the food and focus of his church. In a marketplace that is brimming with perishable, earthy, dead religions, there is only one that can give you true, everlasting life. It is that which Jesus came to give you. It is the good news that where he laid his life down, that is where sinners find theirs.
Works cited:
Horatius Bonar, God’s Way of Peace: A Book for the Anxious (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1864).
R. C. H. Lenski, The Interpretation of St. John’s Gospel (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1961).
Blaise Pascal, The Thoughts of Blaise Pascal, translated by C. Kegan Paul (London: Kegan, Paul, Trench, & Co., 1885).
David Zahl, Seculosity: How Career, Parenting, Technology, Food, Politics, and Romance Became Our New Religion and What to Do About It (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2019).