Today’s Scripture Readings

Gospel Reading

NRSV

No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day. It is written in the prophets, “And they shall all be taught by God.” Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me. Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father. Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.’

Jesus speaks words that stretch our understanding: “I am the living bread … Whoever who eats of this bread will live forever.” It is a bold and mysterious claim, one that invites both trust and openness.

There is something deeply human in the crowd’s response. Like them, we often want to see, to understand, to make sense of what is before us. We look for certainty, something we can grasp. Yet Jesus does not offer proof in the way we might expect. Instead, he offers himself.

“Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me.” (John 6:45) There is a quiet invitation here, an openness of heart that allows us to recognise God at work, even when we do not fully understand. Faith is not about having all the answers, but about being willing to trust.

God knows our human need for something tangible. And so, in the Eucharist, we are given the Bread of Life, not as a symbol, but as real nourishment. It sustains us in the everyday, strengthens us in our struggles, and reminds us that we are made for more than what we can see.

The manna in the desert fed the people for a time. But this bread, Jesus tells us, is different. It is life-giving in a deeper, eternal way.

As we continue on our journey of faith, perhaps the question is this: do I recognise my own hunger for God? And can I also recognise that same hunger in others? In a world searching for meaning and purpose, may we be people who are nourished by Christ, and who quietly share that nourishment through our care, our presence, and the way we live out each day.