Capernaum circa A.D. 29-30

When I read from the Gospels, I often use a prayer method called contemplation in which one uses his or her senses in an imaginative way to reflect on a particular passage. This morning, I chose six verses from the Bread of Life discourse:

Jesus said to the crowds, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. But I say to you, that even though you have seen me, you do not believe.

All that the Father gives to me shall come to me. And whosoever comes to me, I will not cast out. For I descended from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me.

Yet this is the will of the Father who sent me: that I should lose nothing out of all that he has given to me, but that I should raise them up on the last day.

So then, this is the will of my Father who sent me: that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.”

—John 6:35-40 (CPDV)

“Jesus said to the crowds…” is how the reading begins. He speaks to a great number of people often and everywhere, and not knowing exactly where this event takes place, I envisioned myself sitting in a field among many others. I didn’t have a first-row seat, but I was close enough to hear him without straining my ears and to observe his facial expressions.

Closing my eyes, I pretended he was speaking only to me, but in my heart, I knew he was talking to each individual, too. He had a magnetic effect on all of us. Then, wanting to remember everything about these moments, I opened my eyes again so I could fully watch his movements.

His face was kind yet possessed a seriousness that urged us to really pay attention and understand the perplexity of what he was saying. Picture a drawing of Jesus in a children’s text that speaks to you with his eyes. Even as he scanned the crowd, his glance never left mine.

All around, I noticed women trying to settle their children, men twitching in their grassy seats, and a few dogs resting after dutifully patrolling and sniffing. The crowd had been here for several hours already but since I am actually a human living in the 21st century, who happened to “pop” in amid this discourse, I was neither tired nor bored. I was fascinated and eager to hear what he had to say.

I listened to his words of course, but I also heard murmurs throughout the crowd, birds flitting from bush to more distant trees, and an occasional yawn from someone behind me. As an intruder, I sat as quietly as possible, so quiet, in fact, that I could hear my own breath, though choosing the most comfortable position made a shuffling-type sound. Finally, I was able to properly pay attention.

Of course, I have the luxury of being able to often read the lessons Jesus taught. I wonder, however, how I would have responded if I lived all those centuries ago. Would I have been able to absorb everything he said once he moved on and I never saw him again? If I were truly there in Jesus’ time, how distracted would I have been?

The awe of the moment was too immense to divert my attention to any notable scent, although there may have been lingering body sweat from the multitude of persons present. I considered how close we were to the Sea of Galilee and questioned if the dampness in the air was due to its misty vapors or approaching rain.

Watching and listening to Jesus was mesmerizing, though eventually, I reached for the protein bar and water bottle stuffed in my bag. Then I started feeling guilty because those around me had nothing and I couldn’t count on another miracle feeding. “Oh, just listen to him,” I scolded myself, and setting them aside, I tasted his words instead.

“The bread of life…never thirst.” He is all the food and drink I need. I know this metaphorically and eucharistically because unlike the others sitting with me, I am a descendant of a line of Christians. I benefit from the knowledge of many theologians and especially from the faith taught to me by my parents.

Thus, I felt no coolness, heat, or wind, not even the texture of the clothes on my body (which were definitely out of place because I hadn’t stopped at a costume store before arriving.) Instead, I felt privileged. No one in the crowd knew me, but I knew Jesus.

What a blessing to be me. My heart rejoices because I have seen the Savior and believe in Him. I rose from the grassy field to walk with the Redeemer, knowing that when I die, I will live eternally with the Son of God.

“I just want God. I want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water.” — Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)