The Sánchez Archives EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME Year B

By
Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

Simple Gifts in Brown Paper Bags

EXODUS 16:2-4, 12-15
EPHESIANS 4:17,20-24
JOHN 6:24-35

In recent years, the news media carried a story of a modern-day good Samaritan who packed his car each day with dozens of homemade sandwiches and traveled to the inner city to distribute them to homeless and otherwise needy people. Eventually, those who benefited from his generosity became familiar with the Samaritan’s customary route and began to congregate on certain corners at a specific time each day to wait for their daily gift of food. The waiting crowds were reminiscent of the long lines of hungry people during the Great Depression of the 1930s. One such line trailed around the walled cloister of a monastery where plain sandwiches in brown paper bags were distributed each afternoon at 5:00 p.m.

After receiving their sandwich, some ate it all immediately. Others ate only a portion of it and saved the rest for later. Still others took the sandwich home to someone in their family. Sadly, some people complained at the plainness of the sandwich and tossed it away. In relating this story, Mark Link (Mission 2000, Tabor Pub. Co., Allen, TX: 1993) suggested that the people’s varied reactions to their sandwiches could be compared to the manner in which people respond to God’s gifts.

As is reflected in today’s first reading, the Israelites grumbled against God, annoyed at the harsh conditions they encountered in the wilderness. The fact that their long years of slavery had been ended by God’s power and the hope that they would soon enjoy their freedom in a new land did not seem to satisfy them. Yearning for Egypt’s fleshpots and longing for full stomachs, they confronted Moses and Aaron. Even when God saw to their needs by providing water, manna and quail, they soon tired of these gifts and railed out angrily against their giver.

Similarly, when Jesus offered himself as the gift of living bread come down from heaven he received a melange of different reactions. Some of the many he fed with barley loaves and fish wanted the miraculous dole to continue; rather than look beyond the sign to the message it disclosed, they preferred the immediate and continuous gratification of their physical needs. These sought Jesus out, demanding even more sensational displays of power.

When Jesus invited those who hungered after him to be also fed by the bread of his word or teaching, some accepted to be so nourished; others, disappointed, turned away. His challenge was too great; it required a commitment that they were unwilling to make. Others, their appetites whet, were eager to hear more and to learn more; these became disciples.

When Jesus extended an even more intimate invitation, calling those who would find life to accept the gift of his very self as bread for their journey, some made a definitive break with him. He had gone too far; he was asking too much. Others ridiculed him, believing that he had lost his senses. Still others continued to cling to him, even amid periods of doubt and confusion, as their source of life and hope.

In pondering the readings set before us by the church today, it may prove helpful to consider also the reactions of the people to their plain sandwiches in brown paper bags. Does the plainness and ordinariness of bread and wine mask the true import of God’s gift? Would I be more impressed with manna and quail? Does the fact that these sacramental gifts are so frequently available make them seem less precious? Have I begun to take for granted the generosity that provides these gifts so readily and gratuitously? Has my sharing in the bread of life become a matter of habit or a perfunctory routine? Am I merely going through the motions or am I a participating believer in one of the most significant opportunities afforded me by God. Am I given to clamoring for more ostentatious signs of God’s loving care or am I content to discover and welcome even the simplest gifts God sends to me in plain brown paper bags?

EXODUS 16:2-4, 12-15

Visitors to the great arid expanse known as the Sinai desert can trace one of several suggested routes for ancient Israel’s wilderness trek. An expert on the region, Burton Bernstein (Sinai, The Great and Terrible Wilderness, The Viking Press, New York: 1979) who once described the exodus as “one of the greatest and best known tales of survival, freedom and revelation” has suggested that all of the theoretical routes can be broken down into two basic geographical concepts: the Southern or traditional Route, and the Northern or scientific one. Those favoring a southerly journey ascribe to the often dramatized escape of the Israelites through the parted Red Sea somewhere in the vicinity of the Bitter Lakes, near present-day Ismalia. After the walls of the sea entombed their Egyptian task-masters, the fleeing refugees proceeded southeast along the Sinai coast. Academics and scientists who support the theory of a northern route reason that the escapees crossed not the Red Sea but the Reed Sea (Yam Suph), viz., the reedy, marshy El Tina Flats region and the Bardawil Lagoon along the Mediterranean Coast.

Proponents of the Northern Route back up their theory with several logical points, two of which are the subjects of today’s first reading. Both manna and quail, foods provided by God for the hungry travelers, are more plentiful in the north than in the south. A naturally recurring phenomenon, manna is the secretion of two species of scale insects or plant lice (called Trebutina mannipara and Najococcus serpentius) on the tamarisk shrub during the months of May and June. As the substance drops from the shrub’s leaves to the ground, it is cooled by the night air and becomes firm. If gathered early before the parching desert sun melts it, the manna provides a tasty, nourishing meal. Bedouins in the northern Sinai call it mann and still use it as a sweetener.

Quail are migratory birds that fly to Europe each Spring. Returning to their regular habitat in autumn, they fall from exhaustion after crossing the Mediterranean Sea. The fat, oily birds are easily caught in nets by the Bedouins and are sold as delicacies.

The fact that the occurrence of the manna and quail can be explained scientifically does not, in any way, detract from their theological importance. Just as our ancestral brothers and sisters saw the hand of God at work in every aspect (religious, political and/or socio-economic) of their lives, so also did they ascribe these nourishing gifts from the desert to the loving provenance of their Creator. The religious significance of the manna became more apparent as Israel developed as a nation; the seventh century B.C.E. Deuternomist reminded his contemporaries: “God let you be afflicted with hunger and then fed you with manna. . . in order to show you that not by bread alone does humankind live but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God” (Deuteronomy 8:3).

Still later, one of Israel’s sapiential authors described the gift of the manna in the desert as the “food of angels” and “bread from heaven” (Wisdom 16:16-20). In 1 Corinthians 10:1-6, Paul called the manna “spiritual food” and regarded it as a type or prefigurement of the Eucharist. The Johannine author, in today’s gospel, contrasted the manna and its effects with Jesus, the living bread come down from heaven. Since it was believed that the gift of manna would reappear in the era of the messiah, Jesus’ gifts of bread for the multitudes carried a messianic and salvific connotation as well.

Readers of today’s excerpted reading from Exodus might be inclined to wonder why God has not seen fit to similarly solve the contemporary problem of world hunger. But we who are privileged to share in the bread of life who is Jesus have thereby become responsible for assuaging the hungers of others by offering “simple gifts in brown paper bags.”

EPHESIANS 4:17,20-24

Writing ca. 140 C.E. in Rome, a little known author (or authors) produced a composition of visions, mandates and similitudes known as the Shepherd of Hermas. In his third vision, Hermas saw the church as a tower under construction, “that is being built on the waters with brilliant squared stones.” He observed that some stones “fell near the water but did not succeed in rolling in, in spite of their desire.” These stones, he was told, represent those who have heard the word of God and who want to be baptized in the name of the Lord. Only, when they remember the sanctity that the truth demands, they change their minds and turn again to their evil passions (Hermas, The Shepherd, SC 53(2), vis.III, 2, 9 and 7:3).

Similarly, Origen, preaching ca. 240 C.E. in Caesarea underscored the fact that baptism required an authentic and absolute conversion to Christ. “You who desire to receive baptism must first be purified. Upon hearing the word of God, root out your habitual vice and allay your barbaric customs so that, having been clothed in meekness and humility, you will be able to welcome the Holy Spirit” (Origin, Hom. in Lev. 6:2).

It would appear that these early Christian teachers were echoing the exhortations of the predecessor in the faith, viz., the author of Ephesians. In his correspondence he reminded his readers that their efforts to overcome their past evil ways and to put on the new being created in God’s image (v. 24) could not cease once they had been baptized. On the contrary, the process of “learning Christ” (v. 20) was a lifelong challenge requiring that the daily renunciation of all that is not Christ be matched by a daily effort at renewal in Christ. Whereas formerly their lives had been cloaked in sin, baptism afforded believers the privilege of being newly-clothed with grace and blessings.

In today’s excerpted text, the pattern of renunciation and renewal, of divestiture and investure reflects not only the baptismal but the early liturgy of baptism. Having been thoroughly prepared for the rite of sacramental initiation, the candidates for baptism signified their renunciation of sin and their coming aside of their former way of life (v. 21) by removing their outer garments. After being baptized the newly initiated emerged from the sacramental waters and clothed themselves in white robes or garments as a sign of their new life in Christ Jesus.

In his commentary on this reading, Reginald Fuller (Preaching the New Lectionary, The Liturgical Press, Collegeville: 1974) suggests that the Ephesians author is challenging all baptized believers to personal holiness under the rubric of “become what you are”, viz., grow daily into the new being which you put on once and for all in your baptism.

JOHN 6:24-35

Anyone familiar with the gospels will agree that Jesus was frequently present at festive meals and banquets. He was a guest at a wedding celebration at Cana in Galilee (John 2:1-11) and dined at the table of Levi, the customs agent (Mark 2:15-17). Jesus accepted an invitation to the home of Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7:36-50), and was happily welcomed by Zaccheus (Luke 19:1-10). When he was accused of gluttony and drunkenness and of allowing himself to be defiled by eating with sinners (Luke 7:31-35; Matthew 11:16-19), Jesus argued that his actions were to be understood as a foretaste of the great eschatological banquet to which God would welcome all of humankind at the end time. As John P. Meier has noted (A Marginal Jew, Rethinking the Historical Jesus, Vol. II, Doubleday, New York: 1994), “it is within this greater context and regular habit of Jesus’ public ministry, a habit that culminated in what was literally the Last Supper among a great number of suppers, that one may try to understand the feeding miracle.”

Jesus’ offer of an abundance of bread and fish to the multitude conjured up memories of the manna in the wilderness and of Elisha’s feeding of one hundred people with twenty loaves of bread. The sign of the bread also pointed ahead to the gift of himself as bread and wine in the upper room and ultimately to the gift of himself, body and blood on the cross.

Today’s gospel is part of the lengthy discourse in which the evangelist elucidated the theological and soteriological significance of Jesus’ gift of living bread. Readers will notice that this excerpt hinges upon a series of three questions and one request (vv. 25, 28, 30, 34) posed to Jesus by the crowd. With each successive answer to their questions, the Johannine Jesus leads his listeners to a fuller and more profound understanding of the bread of heaven.

The first question, “Rabbi, when did you come here” (vs. 25) could be answered on two levels, the first and more obvious response would have described the physical means by which Jesus had traveled to Capernaum. But the question could also have prompted a consideration of Jesus’ origins as in John 1:1-14, 38 and/or John 14:2-6. Jesus’ answers to the second and third questions (vv. 28, 30), regarding signs and works, challenged those who had been fed with the bread of life to look beyond the fact that their stomachs had been filled. Jesus invited the crowd to awaken its spiritual hunger for the truth of his teaching. When told that they should work (vv. 27, 28) for the bread be offered, Jesus’ listeners misunderstood, thinking that they could attain the imperishable food he offered by mere human endeavor. Jesus indicated that the word required of them is faith in the One sent by God, viz., Jesus, himself.

With their final request, “give us this bread always” (v. 34), the crowd echoed the words of the woman at the well in Samaria who asked Jesus, “give me this water so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water” (John 4:15). Both the woman and the crowd were looking to Jesus for an unending source of nourishment, a free lunch, a magical water source. But, on both occasions, Jesus was actually offering a far more important source of nourishment, the bread of his very self.

In the coming Sundays, the gospels will continue to proclaim the Johannine bread of life discourse wherein it will become clear that Jesus’ gift of bread has a fluid connotation. Figuratively (as in today’s gospel), the bread of life, referred to Jesus’ teaching; elsewhere (especially John 6:51-58), the term is to be understood realistically as the eucharistic or sacramental bread of Jesus himself. Both meanings are present and intended. To overlook one connotation in favor of another, or to completely “spiritualize” Jesus’ bread of life would be to deprive oneself (and others) of one of the most significant gifts afforded to the community.

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