Marian Free
In the name of God, whose ways are not our ways and whose thoughts are not our thoughts. Amen.
I don’t know about you but every now and then I find that I am a little disappointed in God, or at least in the simplistic idea of a ‘fix-it’ God that has somehow remains in my brain – despite all attempts to remove that image.
I am guilty, for example, of wondering why, if we had to have COVID, God didn’t allow some truly awful people to die from it? And there are times, I confess, when I ask myself how God can continue to remain aloof when for example, a powerful nation invades and overrules another weaker nation? Why doesn’t God jump in, boots and all, and end the conflicts and all the suffering in the world? Surely that would be a piece of cake for the ruler of the universe. A dictator could die of COVID, the tanks of an aggressor could become mired in mud, poverty and oppression could be alleviated. Any number of solutions come into my mind – especially when I am feeling powerless to make a difference in the world.
Of course, I can answer my own questions. I do know that God cannot be manipulated by me or be answerable to my concerns alone. I am also aware that I do not see the whole picture and that I cannot envision all the consequences of actions that I think will fix the problems of the world. In my heart if not in my head, I understand that if God did intervene in the course of history, by manipulating the death of a dictator or disabling the weapons of a perceived aggressor, the consequences might be far worse than the present reality. I am also aware that, sadly, many of the world’s ills are of our own making (a result of human greed and selfishness, and desire for power and wealth). I know too that issues like war, and poverty are not always black and white but are usually a complex shade of grey and that a mere mortal like myself doesn’t always have all the facts at my fingertips.
If I am disappointed in God then, it means that my expectations of God have, at least temporarily, been allowed to get out of hand, or that I have imprinted my image of God on to a God who is ultimately beyond comprehension and certainly beyond description.
Perhaps you too have expectations about God that God does not live up to. What is your image of God? How do you expect God to respond to what is going on in the world or in your own lives? Do you imagine that if only you pray hard enough or long enough that God will do what you want (maybe at the expense of what someone else wants)?
One of the issues today’s gospel addresses is that of expectations – the expectations of the people and the reality that is Jesus.
You might remember that last week we learned that the people followed Jesus across the lake because he had satisfied their physical hunger. They were not really interested in Jesus, or in who Jesus represented, but only in what he could do. So, when Jesus makes the outrageous claim that he is the bread that came down from heaven they are uncomprehending. Jesus simply doesn’t fit their expectations of a heavenly figure. Apart from anything else, they know his earthly reality. They know that he didn’t come down from heaven – his parents are known to them. He is no different from them – just the son of Joseph. Sure, he could feed a crowd with a small amount of food, but the living bread that came down from heaven? Impossible.
The crowds are not interested in who Jesus is, but in what he can do for them here and now. They want him to alleviate their hunger in the present. Jesus wants to satisfy a hunger for things that last. The crowds are focused solely on their earthly needs. Jesus wants to meet their spiritual needs. The crowds want to fit Jesus into some sort of stereotype with which they are familiar – Moses for example, who fed them in the wilderness. Jesus wants them to know who he really is, where he comes from and who he represents.
Jesus and the people are at cross purposes, they want different things. The crowd want what can be seen and felt and, in this case, eaten. Jesus wants to give them something intangible and permanent, something that will satisfy their deepest longings for eternity not just their superficial, present needs. Jesus can give them, something that will sustain them forever, in every circumstance, not something that will last for a moment and need to be replenished on a daily basis.
The crowd want Jesus to give them what they want – in this case food. Jesus wants to give them what they need, spiritual sustenance that will enable them to face any difficulty, to endure any trials, to be at peace with themselves and with the world. The crowd wants something that they can see and feel and touch. Jesus offers living bread. He wants them to rely totally on him, not just for their immediate physical needs but for their spiritual and eternal needs.
Which brings me back to my starting point – expectations. How realistic our expectations of God? Do we expect a short-term miracle worker, a ‘fix-it’ God, or a God who can see into the distant future? Do we expect God to work with us in a superficial way or do we understand that God can meet our deepest needs in the present and forever? Have. our longings been satisfied by Jesus the living bread or are we still restless, searching out what we do not yet have?
Our expectations will of course determine the outcome. If we expect God to wave magic wand to solve all the problems of the world, we have failed to understand that our self-absorption and our desire to have God do what we want makes us part of the problem. If on the other hand, we have grasped that in Jesus God has come as close as God can to changing the world for the better then our expectations of what God can do will be tempered by an understanding of what we have failed to do. We have failed to trust God, to depend on God to satisfy all our needs, to accept from God the living bread which in turn will free us from the self-interest which makes demands of God, and will fill us with a deep sense of contentment, which will make us at peace with the world and in turn will ultimately make peace in the world.