It is easy to be sidetracked in John 6 by questions that are interesting but not of first importance. How did Jesus feed five thousand men, women, and children who had followed him to a grassy hillside on the eastern shores of the Sea of Galilee with five barley loaves and two small fishes? Later that evening, how did Jesus walk on the sea’s windy waves for three or four miles to catch up with his friends who were traveling in a boat back to Capernaum? How is it that as soon as Jesus entered the ship it arrived at its destination? We do not know the answers to these questions. Because the center of gravity of the Gospel of John lies elsewhere, we would not be better off if we did know.

The Gospel of John is a work of art. Each of its incidents should be read in light of its entire narrative, just as each detail of a magnificent painting makes aesthetic sense only when viewed as a part of the whole. The point of this Gospel’s artistic rendering of Jesus is that, insofar as we truly see him, we understand the character of God (14:9). This is its center of gravity and this should be our focus. Everything else is secondary.

In its sixth chapter, we encounter two of the Gospel of John’s seven "signs." We read about the first sign in John 2, where Jesus turns water into wine. The second occurs in John 4, where Jesus heals the son of a nobleman in Capernaum. In John 5, Jesus heals a man at the Pool of Bethesda who had been ill—or perhaps malingering—for thirty-eight years, the third sign. We find the fourth and fifth signs in John 6: Jesus feeds a crowd with a boy’s lunch and Jesus walks on water. Jesus heals a man who was born blind in John 9. This is the sixth sign. The seventh sign is in John 11, where Jesus brings his dead friend Lazarus back to life.

Each sign highlights a particular aspect of Jesus’ life and thought. If we view them in swift succession, we sense a growing tension between what the crowds thought of these signs and what Jesus did. The mounting stress between these two points of view comes to a breaking point in John 6. This chapter begins with the assertion that "A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick" (6:2).1 It ends many verses later with the report that "many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him" (6:66). "Do you also wish to go away?" Jesus asks even his closest friends (6:67).

Jesus lost many of his followers when he challenged them to accept his message for its intrinsic benefits, not merely for its extrinsic ones. An intrinsic benefit is a positive outcome that is necessarily related to something we have or do. An extrinsic benefit is a favorable consequence that is not necessarily related to a possession or activity. Learning more is the intrinsic benefit of studying harder; getting better grades, something that does not always happen because of circumstances we cannot always control, is its extrinsic benefit. Just as some people study more for high grades and the advantages they bring than to learn, so also some people in the time of Jesus followed him not to be better persons but to be cured and fed. When Jesus confronted them about this, they lost interest.

"I am the bread of life," Jesus declared. "Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty" (6:35). This claim prompted a variety of responses. Some who knew Jesus’ parents and background thought he was suffering from an overdose of self-importance. Either pretending to or actually missing the figurative nature of Jesus’ language, some debated the possibility and appropriateness of literally eating him. "This is a hard saying, who can hear it?" some who understood him well enough concluded. Jesus then spoke plainly: "The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life" (6:63). His meaning was now clear: To be interested in Jesus as one who can heal the sick and feed the hungry is one thing; to care about who he is and what he has to say is another. There is bread and there is Bread.

True Christianity offers both. Unlike religions that keep their followers locked in ignorance for generations, it educates people. It also cultivates in them the personal habits of industriousness, frugality, and clean living that over time foster health and wealth. In addition, genuine Christianity provides a community in which people enable each other to flourish and to cope more successfully with life’s inevitable setbacks. These advantages are so attractive that over the years many have become "potato," "rice," or "pasta" Christians, those who are disciples of Jesus only because of such side effects and only as long as they last.

We must be careful here. It is not helpful to deny or denounce Christianity’s extrinsic benefits. They are perfectly legitimate when they are among the reasons people become and remain Christians. They are malignant when they are the sole justification for Christian commitment, however. When this happens, the good is the enemy of the best.

The best is "Eternal Life." Most commentators agree that in the Gospel of John this expression is a technical term with a specialized meaning. It refers to a better way of life that is possible here and now, not to a life that is identical to every other except that it never ends. This way of life is qualitatively superior because it is based upon the actuality and goodness of God. This is what Jesus offered. This is the Bread. Even if Jesus mysteriously multiplies it, an ordinary meal—five barely loaves and two small fishes—is something else. Why settle for so much less?

Notes and References

1. All Bible quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version.

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