Why We Gather at the Table

John 6:25-35

Andy Rooney once said that the two biggest sections in any bookstore were the cookbooks and the diet books. Food is a focal point in our lives. Whether we’re trying the latest diet or watching the Food Network, we are surrounded and somewhat obsessed by food. We even use food words everywhere. A display of too much skin is beefcake or cheesecake. We have half-baked ideas and fishy stories. We bring home the bacon, and your brain on drugs looks like a fried egg. We thirst for knowledge. We crave attention. And spiritually, we look to feed and nourish our souls.

And as much as our lives revolve around food, those of us gathered here today can’t really imagine what it is like to be without it. So, it’s hard for us to grasp the level of gratitude that was lifted up at that very first Thanksgiving meal. Although the first cold Massachusetts winter had killed off half their
colony, new hope for survival grew in the summer of 1621. There was a bountiful corn harvest, and someone had come up with this new, wonderful delicacy they called cornbread. They had survived, and were just getting a taste, if you will, of what it felt like to actually thrive.

I am the bread of life. Jesus talked in terms of food, too. Bread from heaven. The folks that Jesus was talking to knew about bread from heaven. They knew the story of the Hebrew children freed from slavery in Egypt by God Almighty, led by Moses through the Red Sea, and wandering in the desert grumbling about what a big mistake it had all been. “What is it” or “manna” is what they had called that food that fell from the sky. The people of Jesus day knew the story. It was part of their history. It was part of who they were.

Faith is based on history. Whether we are Christians like Peter and James who have heard Jesus’ call to “follow me”, or Christians like Paul who came to Christ through a dramatic conversion, our faith is based on history. The history of our own experiences, the history of those who came before us.

At Thanksgiving, we gather round the table and glimpse our history. We see the friends and family who have helped to form us into who we are. Our history is found in the sweet potato casserole that Aunt Sally brings every year or the cornbread dressing recipe that your great-grandmother handed to down to your mother because everyone always said your grandmother couldn’t cook. And as we reflect on the story of the first Thanksgiving, we are reminded by our own country’s history that food doesn’t come from grocery stores. It comes from the miracle of a tiny seed planted in the ground that somehow, together with the soil and the rain and the sun, brings forth a bounty.

The people listening to Jesus in the passage today had their own history. Like their ancestors who had wandered around in the wilderness, they were probably a little grumbly, too. Under the rule of the Roman Empire, waiting for a Messiah to set them free, wondering if and when God would finally send someone. And this carpenter from Nazereth was suggesting that HE might be one they were waiting for? Who was this guy who claimed to be bread? Could they put their faith in him?

Who do we put our faith in at Thanksgiving? Someone who is not from the states was asking me about the holiday and remarked that it’s nice that everyone can participate in this holiday because it’s not religious. I was a little taken aback, but managed to say, “Actually, it’s about the most religious holiday we have. There is no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny to cloud the meaning. It’s about thanking God.” And then, to be completely honest, I had to add—“and of course, food and football.”

When we gather at the table, let us be reminded of who we are and of whose we are. We acknowledge the blessing of a bountiful table, but know that food alone does not make for a bountiful life.

Jesus said, “I am the bread of life.” And we are invited to his table every day of the year so that not just our tummies, but our very lives will be full.