Matthew 7:9-11; Psalm 78:14-25; John 6:30-35; Luke 14:1-23
Do you remember when Jesus took bread, gave thanks, and broke it, saying, “This is my body. Take and eat.” It was at a meal. A special meal. A celebration. A remembrance. A re-enactment of the time that God led an oppressed people out from under their oppressors. Into freedom. Into miracles. Into a new life.
Today, we come to, perhaps, the most simple and straightforward sentence in the Lord’s Prayer: Give us this day our daily bread. I am speaking to you today because, when Jason was preparing his sermon last week, I said, “I’m really excited about next week – about the bread. I can’t wait to hear you preach about how bread was provided for citizens each day by the Roman government, and so this prayer is reminding Jesus’ disciples that they are really part of God’s kingdom, not this world. And how the prayer is completely plural—so we aren’t instructed to pray for our own individual sustenance, but for the entire community to have what they need. And even how bread is such a universal symbol for sustenance in general—so the prayer is both literal and figurative, that our needs would be met each day. And how…” And Jason listened for about 3 minutes and said, “It sounds like you are excited to share these things. Why don’t you preach?” In no way did I accept because I think I can preach this message better than Jason, or any of you. Nor do I think I know more about prayer, God’s kingdom, Jesus’ message, or even about baking bread. In fact, I had a bread maker just last week. Until I donated it. Because, as busy and lazy as I am, I just haven’t had time to use the bread maker in the last 3 years. It’s much faster, easier, and sometimes even healthier and cheaper, to buy bread from a store. And I’ll talk more about that later. So, since I’ve just explained all the reasons NOT to listen to me, let me tell you why I said yes to Jason’s invitation. Today I am sharing with you because I am excited about what this short sentence tells us, what it means to us, what it means to God, and how we can pray these seven words from now on with a deeper understanding, with thoughtfulness and humility, with thankfulness and gregarity. I want to share with you what I hear Jesus saying to his disciples and followers when he taught this prayer. And I want to share with you what more I learned this week as I read and researched, pondered and prayed, observed and organized. Nijay Gupta, whose commentary on the Lord’s Prayer Jason is using and recommended to me, had some great insights and will later be especially helpful in translating one word.
At first, I thought, “What could be more simple than to explain what this means?” I even joked about it last Sunday with a few people, saying “We already know how to ask God for things—so it’s not a hard sermon at all!” Indeed, consider what prayer is to most of us: requests for things. God, help with this test. God, give us safe travels. God, help me remember where I last had my wallet. God, protect my children and bless them. God, help me get this job. Jesus reminds us that “even the pagans run after these things, but your heavenly Father knows that you need them. So seek first God’s kingdom, and God’s righteousness, and these things will be provided for you as well.” I think, and I have heard preachers and teachers also say, that one of the reasons it is so difficult for a rich person to get into heaven, or to be in God’s kingdom, or to understand Jesus’ teachings—The reason that is so hard for a rich person is that when we are able to purchase everything we need, everything we want, and even a whole bunch of stuff we neither need nor want, we are so distracted and weighed down and running after our own pleasures and interests, that we fail to see, to recognize, to feel our need for God—our need for heaven’s values, our need for Jesus’ way of life.
Imagine: a woman in a village, who each day hikes up and down the nearby mountain collecting firewood to heat her cooking stones; who grinds the grains that she and her husband harvested by hand, the results of their trust when they put perfectly good seeds into the ground at the beginning of last season and waited for rain and sun in just the right amounts and rhythms; she mixes in a little salt and little water, and one by one cooks little pieces on the hot stones of the fire, and gives them to each family member who lives in her house with her. That woman undoubtedly prays, “Give us this day our daily bread” different from the way we pray that petition.[1]
In fact, Tertullian, a church father known for greatly informing and articulating our Christian understanding of the Trinity of God, points out that the Lord’s Prayer is surrounded by other teachings about trusting God for daily needs, to be the only master that we serve and love, and to know that God is like a good parent who provides the best for all the beloved children: one day at a time.
Let’s start at the beginning: “Give Us.” The first thing I notice is the “Us,” a word that is first-person plural. What this means is that I am speaking, but not just for me, my one-self, but for all those with me – my group, my community, my tribe, my family. The word “us” can mean a small group of 2 or 3, or a huge number of thousands, with whom we feel a connection, a similarity, a joint-ness. In fact, perhaps you noticed that the entire Lord’s prayer is in the first-person plural. It begins with “Our Father,” and each request – for bread, for forgiveness, and for deliverance – is also for “us.” Forgive us. Lead us. Deliver us. The prayer wasn’t taught to one person, but to a group of disciples. It wasn’t meant to be prayed alone, although Jesus did recommend praying inside, in private, where God alone knows what we say and do, rather than on the street corners to be seen and praised by other people. This plurality of the prayer, the “us” words, reminds me that following Jesus isn’t meant to be an alone task, either. From the very beginning, God created humans to be together, to be families and friends and neighbors. Everything God created was good—until he placed Adam in the Garden of Eden all alone, and God saw that it was not good for the man to be alone. Jesus, himself God, did not want to be alone in the Garden either, and he took friends with him for comfort and companionship. I exhort you, do not be alone. Especially in prayer. Especially in your garden. One of my favorite comedians, John Mulaney, tells the joke that Jesus’ greatest miracle isn’t water to wine; it wasn’t lame people walking; it wasn’t even feeding thousands; no, Jesus’ greatest miracle was making 12 close friends after he turned the age of 30—and Jason and I laugh because we it’s so sadly true. Making friends is HARD! Keeping friends is also hard. But I like the little song, “Make new friends—but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.” Better to have friends, neighbors, and family, than warehouses full of the finest things. There is a deep human need in each human, created by God, for relationship, connection, communication, and companionship. And one of the most intimate, friendly, and connecting things we can do is share a meal with others. Better to starve with a friend than to feast alone, I have heard.
“Give us.” Next, I wonder, is this an imperative? When we pray, do we demand that God give, or is it a request? Well, … yes! It is an imperative, which means that it is a form of language where we are telling another person to do something. But the difference between demanding and requesting is always in the attitude. When you say, “sit here,” or “call me” or don’t go there,” or any other kind of imperative—where you tell someone to do or not do something—the difference between demanding it and requesting it is a matter of the heart. Why are you saying, “sit here?” Why are you telling them, “Call me?” Why do you not want them to “go there?” And in this case, when you pray, in THIS prayer, why do you say, “give us?” Is it because you deserve it? Because you need it and God promised to give, so now it’s time to pay up? Why do you say, “give us?” Is it because your neighbor needs, and you desire that their needs be met as well as yours? Why do you say, “give us?” Do you want the best? Do you want enough to share? Do you anticipate the feeling of satiety and can’t stand to be content with nothing? Why do you say, “give us?”
The next part of the prayer is “this day.” Give us this day – not tomorrow. Not this week, or this season, or this year. Give us this day. Give to us, on this day… Today. One day at a time. Each day. My dad tells a story of when he was a boy, probably in grade school, he was invited to eat supper at a friend’s house. My dad’s family was river brethren – in fact, many of his aunts and uncles still are, wearing cape dressing and driving their black-bumper vans or even still using a horse and wagon. At those family reunions, we like to tease, which uncle is Uncle David? The one with the beard and blue shirt? Haha! They all have beards and blue shirts. In any case, praying before a meal was an absolute must, and my dad was raised, along with his 5 brothers, praying thanks before each meal they shared as a family. But at his friend’s house, they didn’t. My dad knew that his friend believed in God. But they didn’t pray before the meal. When it was over, my dad was ready to get up and go play. But no one else got up. It was then that they bowed their heads and gave thanks to God for the food they had just eaten. His friend’s family was Jewish. The Jews are commanded to pray after they eat. Deut 8:10 says, “When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the Lord your God for the good things given you.” And my father, being thoughtful and observant even at a young age, realized that praying before or after the meal wasn’t the important part—but the prayer of thankfulness, whenever given, is what matters most. Each day, at each meal; like being thankful for each breath, each moment. Eat, and be thankful. Be very thankful.
So far, we have: Give us, this day. The next part is “our something bread.” And this is what I learned from Nijay Gupta that I did not know. The Greek word in the place where we say “daily” is a mystery word. What I mean is, the word only appears two times. Ever. Anywhere. And they are both in the Bible, one in Matthew’s Lord’s prayer, and one in Luke’s Lord’s prayer. The word is epiousios. Gupta says, “The reason our translations say “daily” is more than a shot in the dark, though. First, both Matthew and Luke refer to [the day] in the verse. Second, scholars have tried to make some educated guesses about the meaning of epiousios based on similar words or potentially different forms of a word in Greek. Finally, we have discussions of this word in the church fathers [and our historical, traditional practice of using the word “daily”].” Nijay K. Gupta, The Lord’s Prayer, ed. Leslie Andres, Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys Publishing, Incorporated, 2017), 95.
There are six really good possibilities for translating this word, and each one gives us a different idea, a new perspective, and a slight variation, on what kind of bread we might be asking God to provide for us. Please don’t be confused by various meanings. These options, every one of them, helps us to think of the prayer in a new way, a deeper possible way. What is the meaning of this word? What kind of bread are we praying for?
First, it might be a misspelling of another word meaning “essential, substance, being.” So we would be praying for what we need for life. The simple stuff. We here are praying for what we need so we can exist, so we can live and move and have our being in God.
Second, it might mean “more than essential,” or something like “super-substantial.” So that this would mean that we are praying for today’s bread, but like spiritual bread, feeding all of us, not just our bodies.
Third, it might mean the word we use, “today,” but not the normal words used in other places for today. Instead, this word would be a form of a word, something like “the thing that is current in this time.” So here we would be praying for not just daily bread, but for this-exact-moment bread, or for the bread that is exactly right for this time period. Give us this day our era bread, our current bread.
Fourth, the word might be an adjective made from a verb meaning “come upon.” We might say, “Give us this day our up-and-coming bread.” This petition would be asking God to provide for us right now so that we are ready and strengthened for whatever comes next.
Fifth, some scholars who see end times in everything also think it might mean “that which comes,” as in, praying not for actual bread to eat, but meaning that we are praying for spiritual strength to face the end times that are coming tomorrow, that is at some time in the future. One scholar points out that this idea brings a focus to the whole prayer about being about God’s coming kingdom. He says, “To pray that God will hallow his name and bring his kingdom is the prayer of men whose appetites are whetted thereby, so that nothing short of divine nourishment will suffice” for them each day.
A sixth option is actually an interpretative suggestion by just one scholar, Arland Hultgren. He suggests that the word also means “coming,” but instead of referring to WHEN the bread comes, or WHEN we need the strength, it might be reminding us WHO it comes from. So the prayer might be said, “Give us today, our bread which comes from you.”
I love studying words, and language, and talking about translating. Why do we choose the words we do? What does it mean when I say it, but you say it differently? I personally have a hunch that this word might be made up by Jesus, like a wordiness of Christianese; even though I wordify a new conceptination, you can still undergrasp-istand what I am getting at. It’s playing with words. Sometimes, being creative gets the point across better than spelling it out, because it gets us to think and discuss. And Jesus was good at stories and words that were memorable, and instructive. And that’s what we just did.
Again, these options, every one of them, helps us to think of the prayer in a new and deeper way. What kind of bread do YOU think Jesus taught his disciples to pray for? What kind of bread do we pray for?
Nijay Gupta, my commentary friend, notes that “praying daily for “bread” is not a generic prayer but one situated in and saturated in biblical ideas, concepts, and assumptions. Put another way, ignoring the canonical [the Biblical] context of the LP could allow it to function in a non-Christian [or generic] way, but then it ought not to be called the Lord’s Prayer because it becomes merely a prayer. Without its context [its Biblical roots and fruits, its historical and religious meanings, then] it is not the prayer Jesus teaches, since Jesus offers this prayer model as a teacher to his disciples. This petition especially requires ears and eyes attuned to the many canonical resonances with the language and imagery of the divine gift of bread.”(Nijay K. Gupta, The Lord’s Prayer, ed. Leslie Andres, Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys Publishing, Incorporated, 2017), 91.) So, let us consider the other Biblical passages that we heard this morning, and how they inform our understanding of this part of the Lord’s prayer for bread.
I have already referenced the teachings in Matthew surrounding the Lord’s Prayer: it is Jesus’ teachings, his sermon on the mount, and especially how we are to consider God like a father who gives his children good gifts, who knows what they need even before they ask, and whose kingdom values sincere humility and care for others, rather than the appearance of righteousness and superiority. The first scripture we heard in this service reminds us that God, who is not corrupted by greed, ego, selfishness, addictions, envy, or bloodlust; God will certainly give good gifts to those who ask.
We also heard part of Psalm 78, a song about God’s providence for the Israelites in the desert. Although the people were fickle, greedy, quick to anger and blame, and accuse, yet God still fed them and loved them. I have a personal hope that when I get to the other side, I will find out what manna really was. It was white, fluffy, heavenly food that not only satisfied the Israelites but even tempted them to gather more than they needed and save it for the next day—I think manna was God providing them with powdered donuts. When I’ve shared this personal theory, some people have suggested it might have been angel food cake or buttermilk biscuits, or some other favorite form of bread depending on who I am talking to. But in any case, the people forgot to thank God for the miracle of daily food. Are we much different, I ask? Food comes to my house, almost like magic, or like a miracle. All I do is take this little clump of metal and plastic and glass, touch it and tap it just right, maybe speak into it… and a few minutes later, or hours, or sometimes the next day, food appears on my doorstep. Rained down. All I can eat. And more. And do I thank God for that? Let us not forget that we cannot—at least, not yet—create food apart from the miracle of the life of plants, seasons, animals, and harvest. Hear this reminder in the first verse of a hymn that Jason and I know:
We plough the fields, and scatter the good seed on the land;
But it is fed and watered by God’s almighty hand:
He sends the snow in winter, the warmth to swell the grain,
The breezes and the sunshine, and soft refreshing rain.
All good gifts around us
Are sent from heaven above.
We thank the Lord, O thank the Lord,
For all His love.
We also heard another scripture about a bit of wisdom from Jesus, in the story from John 6, when some of the crowd who had eaten the miraculous feast with 5,000 other people, followed him to the other side of the sea and questioned him: “Hey, man. What miracle are you gonna do to prove that God sent you?” Ouch! What more miracle did they want?! They had eaten a feast, exactly like the miracle of manna for their ancestors that seemed to come out of thin air, and yet they, too, were quick to forget, to greedy, quick to anger and blame and accuse. And yet, Jesus fed them and loved them.
At the last supper, we know, Jesus took bread, broke it, and gave it to his disciples to eat, saying, “take and eat. This is my body, given for you.” When we pray for our daily bread, is there not some sense in which we must remember that man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God? Do we not also need to pray for our daily spiritual sustenance, for Jesus himself to be in us and through us and around us? Do we not also need to be thankful for the same?
And, lastly, we heard a few pieces from a scriptural story in Luke, when Jesus went to a meal in the house of a well-known community member. I recommend reading the whole story yourself, sometime, and noticing many details that we did not get to hear. But what we heard today was that God’s kingdom, in many ways, is like a feast. And those who think of themselves first will actually find themselves last. Because those who think of themselves as no better than others will be raised up and given honor. Because those who are prideful, who are rich and wealthy—they have many distractions that keep them from attending the feast of the master of the banquet. While those who are outcasts, who are poor and hungry, are ready to receive God’s blessing when it is given, and they receive it with thankfulness. I cannot find, in any of Jesus’ teachings, that we are to keep people out of the kingdom of God. Rather, I hear Jesus saying that everyone is invited – especially those who I don’t think should be here. Addicts. Simpletons. Desperate, lonely, hurting people with no home, no family, no friends. I’m not sure where along the way we lost the connection to banquets and parties. Jesus’ life was full of them! He ate and drank so much that he was accused of being a drunkard and a glutton. He was also accused of working with Beelzebul, and of undermining the empire of Rome and the power they gave to Jewish authority. Where along the way, did we lose that part of our faith?
In this year’s Vacation Bible School at Iona Zion, Jason and I were the bible story teachers. On the last night of VBS, the bible concept was that “Jesus’ power helps us be good friends.” We decorated the room like a party, and played a few balloon games, and shared with the groups of children how being a follower of Jesus is like being at a party: believers share with one another, eat together, and are joyful and helpful with one another. Even as I taught that night, my heart was heavy. I didn’t have the strength to tell them the truth: adult followers of Jesus rarely share, eat together, or are joyful and helpful. Why is that? Why are we more like the Sadducees and Pharisees than being like Jesus? Why are we happier to argue about law and who’s in and who’s out, than feeding the poor, eating with sinners and tax collectors, and multiplying bread and making wine out of water? We lose our wonder and joy at the good things of life, and, as G.K. Chesterton says, “We have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”
In the last class of that last night of VBS, a child raised his hand and asked, “why did Jesus die?” And I found myself mumbling, making up very badly some excuses for the grown-up adults who put Jesus to death. Because I, an adult, can understand hate, greed, pride, and the rage at my own power being taken away. But how to explain that to a child? Jesus had done nothing wrong. So why did he suffer? It wasn’t without many hands causing him pain. Why did he die? Frankly, it was a system of injustice. He had poked the bear; he pointed out that the emperor had no clothes; he worked from the grassroots with oppressed women, children, uneducated, poor, unclean, sick, people who were rejected and snubbed by the religious leaders. How do you tell a child that Jesus was killed by jealous, angry men who didn’t want him to question their power, their wealth, their religion, or their status? Someone complimented me after that, said I had answered the question well. But I don’t think I did. I didn’t stumble my words because I didn’t know the answer—I fumbled because I KNEW, and I was embarrassed and ashamed to tell a child. Jesus died for a really shallow and stupid reason. I think I should be asked, and have to answer, more often, to practice explaining why Jesus died. Because I’m not sure I want to understand why adults hurt each other. I don’t want to be able to accept it without thought. I don’t want to participate, even by accident, in a system of injustice that gives power to the greedy and kills anyone who points out my sins. That is another sermon, though, about forgiveness of sins; which I guess will come in two weeks, after the [Rocherty picnic hymn-sing Sunday///Iona Zion baptism renewal celebration] next week.
Let me close with one last thought I read from Nijay Gupta. He shares an example of how far he himself is removed from this part of the Lord’s Prayer. “Just today I went to one of those warehouse-club stores and bought four loaves of bread that I will store in my fridge and freezer. They will serve my family’s needs for several weeks. Practically speaking, I am a long way from asking for “daily bread.” Perhaps you are, too. That isn’t to say that we are to become poor, although perhaps if you, like the rich young ruler, are unable to lay aside your earthly wealth and comfort and finery, perhaps Jesus would also ask you to sell all that you have and give it to the poor, and then go—and follow him. What are you afraid of? Will you starve? Will you be homeless? Will you be naked? Hear these words, from Jesus:
[1] Nijay K. Gupta, The Lord’s Prayer, ed. Leslie Andres, Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys Publishing, Incorporated, 2017), 101.