the bread of life in a low-carb world

Oh, the bread of life. You arrive again for six long weeks in the middle of a god-awful hot summer (a term I do not use lightly; it was 106 on my deck, in the shade, yesterday; and this in a place where we usually think 85 is SUPER hot).

I went to text study today and we talked about the lectionary readings for next Sunday, which is particularly confusing in the midst of this series since I can hardly tell one week from another after all these weeks of the bread of life. Years ago, I was - well, complaining - to a colleague, a woman I have known for a long time who is, hands down, the best preacher I know in real life. I said something about how I 'just couldn't take one more week on the bread of life,' and she smiled sadly and said gently, "I always loved those weeks; it was like holding a gem in the light and seeing all its facets." I felt like crap. (I do think a bit of her romanticism was due to no longer serving in a parish, but only a bit - she really meant it.)

I try to remember this gem image now, but all I can really think of is how my feet are practically swelling right out of my sandals and I'm starting to wonder if we should begin a special capital campaign to get airconditioning in the whole building. The whining seems entirely appropriate to this week's first reading. (One of the profs on Working Preacher said, "I envision this whole scene taking place in a minivan.") How much longer is this going to last? Where are we going? When are we going to get there? What is this stupid flaky bread, anyway? Where's the protein? What's for dessert?

We got into a big discussion at text study about what people expect from church. One colleague had dealt with a parishioner - the kind that never come to worship but consider themselves connected to the congregation - who had been heard complaining at a local event that she no longer attended worship because, "I come to church to be inspired, not to be made to feel guilty." What do people expect from the bread of life, or from the community which claims to be fed by it? It seems like a lot of people want to be part of the church without any conversion experience. What we preachers hear as good news - your stuff doesn't matter, your life is more than your work, you are loved beyond what you accomplish - isn't good news if you can't separate your identity from those things. Then you just feel naked and exposed, which even in the worst heat, isn't a great feeling.

I'm thinking about the blueberry muffins I made last week, when it was warm but not HOT. I kept them in a nice glass container with a lid on the counter. Every morning I took one out for breakfast, until the fourth day, when I opened the container and all those lovely muffins had molded. Give us this day our daily bread. Such a deep, beautiful, and yet insignificant image. Bread is just bread. A dime a slice (well, not anymore, but you get the point) - disposable, to us. One loaf molds; you pick up another at the grocery store. So ordinary.

So we fill ourselves with much fancier things because, after all, just bread couldn't be enough, right? There must be more than that. How...bourgeouis.

I think the "daily" bit is the hardest part. It doesn't seem very secure. How about weekly bread? Or bi-monthly? I like gettting my bread on the 15th and the 30th of each month, personally. Makes it easier to plan ahead.

No, I suppose not.

I started re-reading Take This Bread by Sara Miles, looking for some preaching help. I ran across this prayer:

God of abundance, you feed us every day.
Rise in us now, make us into your bread,
that we may share your gifts with a hungry world,
and join in love with all people, through
Jesus Christ our Lord.

Maybe that's enough for today.