Manna vs. Bread

“I tell you the truth, anyone who believes has eternal life. Yes, I am the bread of life! Your ancestors ate manna in the wilderness, but they all died. Anyone who eats the bread from heaven, however, will never die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Anyone who eats this bread will live forever; and this bread, which I will offer so the world may live, is my flesh.” — John 6:47–51

Manna in the wilderness, in the desert, is something. Something — in the context of food — is better than nothing. But there’s a real problem with manna in the desert:

Eat it and you still die.

Yeah, you’ll live longer. What’s the point in a long life? What’s the hope when that dismal shadow of death looms from around the corner? Where are you going, anyhow?

The desert is made up of bones, you know. Fossils from generations of wanderers that wandered before you started wandering. Where did manna take those bones, except down to the knees? And then laid out flat in the dirt. And then eyes pecked out by vultures and skin ripped at by scavengers. And then nothing.

Now, bread…there’s something naturally good about bread.

Bread connotates warmth. It summons imagery of a hot oven spewing fumes of comforting heat weaved with delicious aromas. It reminds us of parents and grandparents and great-grandparents with smiles even brighter than burning charcoals, hearts hotter than open flames, baking treats to fill our bellies.

Bread conjures love.

Bread is life and life is bread. You know the kind of life-giving bread I’m talking about. It’s crusty on the outside and soft in the middle and demands butter and grape jelly. Or peanut butter and honey. Take your pick.

To really get to the good stuff you have to break the loaf open. The perfect loaf is exposed, dashed, mutilated, and crushed. It’s given over in perfect submission to the mercy of the hands and teeth.

It’s the good stuff that keeps us going.