John 6:41-51
You may remember hearing the words. You may remember speaking the words yourself: What? This again! You know I don't like _____ -- and here you can fill in any number of things: broccoli, spinach, rutabaga, mystery meat, or liver surprise (my own personal dread). Complaints about food are as old as school cafeterias and military rations . . . and the Bible. In our Gospel lesson, the people complained about Jesus because he claimed to be the bread of heaven.
It is an intriguing and theologically loaded word that John uses for complain. In the Greek versions of the Old Testament, the word in John is the same word used to describe the complaining "murmuring" of the people of Israel in the wilderness. Then, too, the complaint had been about food, or the lack thereof. The taste of freedom did not seem to satisfy. The people wanted better food, even if it came at the expense of slavery in Egypt. "If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread" (Ex 16:3). Like Elijah under the broom tree, they would rather be dead. And so they complain.
Before we cast accusing fingers in their direction, however: have you ever hungered, I mean, really hungered? Sometimes, complaints may be in order. Sometimes, there is good reason to grieve the passing of what has been. The death of Absalom moves David to pour out his heart in the grief of if only: "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!" (II Sam 18:33). A great number of the psalms of Israel are laments, poems of complaint to God, whose verses often open with complaints to God of "Why" or "How long?" The faith we inherit as Children of God bares life and emotion and complaints before God.
But in practically every case, the laments, the biggest of complaints, in the psalms conclude with an affirmation of trust in God. After crying out to God in protest, bewilderment, or wondering, the psalmist makes proclamation that hope remains in God. Lament becomes an act of faith, precisely because it holds onto God even in the midst of complaint.
In that sense, the complaints raised in the Gospel lesson against Jesus do not rise to the standard of laments in the psalms. For the murmuring against Jesus does not lead to or seemingly even seek a holding onto him, but rather a letting go. There is distancing here, disengagement. The people complain against Jesus' claim -- because they know who and whose he is. They define Jesus solely by family of origin, and thus put limits on who he could be because they know from where he has come. Misunderstanding is a common dynamic in the Gospel of John.
Perhaps what most separates their complaint about Jesus from the positive expression of lament may be seen in Jesus' first words to them. "Do not complain among yourselves" (John 6:43). Complaint is one thing when addressed to the individual or group who aggrieves us. At least then there is opportunity for response and dialog. The impression left by Jesus' words is that their complaining had been done without bothering to address him.
When complaints are not shared with others, how can change come? When we clutch our resentments close to our hearts, not willing to give them a sounding to see if they are valid or can evoke a change -- but hold on and nurse them -- nothing good will come. Our opinions of those we blame or resent will only worsen, for our conversations are only with others who share our complaints -- or if none can be found, we will simply roll those things over and through our minds until they gnaw away at our spirits.
It is likely not coincidental that, at the end of this chapter, the complaining "among yourselves" leads to its logical conclusion. Folks begin to leave. In fact, in verse 60, the complaining has spread. It is not merely Jesus' opponents but "many of his disciples" who separate themselves from Jesus. Complaint can be contagious . . . and deadly to relationship.
Many experiences in life evoke complaint and many times the complaint is justified. In the face of injustice suffered, in the face of pain, whether our own or others, complaint may be exactly what is needed. Lament to God may be the most faithful thing we can do in those moments. Yet, the key is to hold onto the One to whom we cry, to keep together our expression of lament with trust in God. Jesus concludes his words to the complainers, not by slamming a door in their faces but by leaving open the invitation: "I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever" (6:51). How and why can he do that? Jesus speaks out of the tradition of wilderness murmuring -- and wilderness feeding. For when manna falls from heaven, it does not feed only those who remain faithful and trusting. It does not fall only on those who, even if they are hungry, keep their mouths shut and keep their pain to themselves. Manna is given to all, including the murmurs and the complainers.
Such is the nature of God's grace. God seeks our good. And it is that affirmation, and that grace, that allows us to hold together our crying out in lament with our trust in the God who will hear us and receive us -- and feed us with grace that will not fail.