House of Bread

This past Sunday, as a sort of Christmas sermon, I preached on how Jesus is "the bread that came down out of heaven" (from John 6.41 and making comparison with the manna in the wilderness in Exodus 16). For our Christmas Eve service, I wrote a poem about how, fittingly, that Bread came down in a town called Bethlehem (which, translated from Hebrew, means House of Bread). So, here ya go:

Jacob’s fam’ly lived along

The outer fringe of town among

The peasants, widows, tradesmen, and

The shepherds who traversed the land

Outside the city gates with rams,

And billy goats, and little lambs.

Their house was simple, sturdy, small –

With sand-hued stucco on the wall

That faced the west and bore the wind.

Each winter Jake and dad would mend

The cracks and patch the crumbles tight

To keep out all the draft that might

Keep Jake and sisters from their sleep.

Sometimes by night he’d watch the sheep

For neighbors closer into town.

He’d lead them through the gate and down

The stony path out to the field

And bring back home his tiny yield:

Two copper coins for mother’s tin.

He’d dash inside, and drop them in,

And know he’d helped his fam’ly gain

A little extra weekly grain.

Their clothes were old, their pantry sparse.

And nothing hurt his father worse

Than knowing that his son was gaunt

And how the biting wind would taunt

The hovel, far too small and cramped –

And smelly when the chickens camped

Inside at night.

Young Jake could sense

His father’s grief and watch him wince

On colder nights when each of four

Familial quilts went on the floor

To cover wife and girls and son;

And how he’d wait ‘til they were done

With supper before standing up

And spooning some into his cup.

But Jacob’s father lived in trust

That God had promised and He must

Make all to work out for the good –

Even his fam’ly’s lack of food.

Some nights as he scooped out a few

Of mother’s lentils which she grew

In their side yard, he’d pause and say:

“I’m looking forward to the day

When God will open up the skies

And rain down bread before our eyes.

We may not sup on cakes or rolls …

But manna’s coming for our souls.”

“For our souls?” Jake’s heart would say inside.

“Food for our souls?” It sounded cheap.

And so when Jake would take the sheep

Out through the gate, he’d stop and read.

The words carved there would make him bleed

Inside. ‘Beth-lehem: House of Bread’.

“That may be what the ancients said”

Jake thought, “when David walked this town

And spread his blessings all around.

But things these days are pretty sparse.

That moniker seems like a farce.

‘Beth-lehem: House of Bread’ she was.

But now we say that just because;

Or with a vague religious twist –

‘True food will fall down like the mist’

Dad says. ‘Bread for the hungry soul –

Just like the prophets have foretold.’”

“I do not know” Jake thought. “Perhaps

Dad’s right.” But then his mind would lapse

Into a twelve year old’s day dreams –

With eyes glazed over and moonbeams

Across his face.

He’d almost dozed

When all the sheep around him rose.

The neighb’ring shepherds stood upright …

And in the sky a distant light

Grew brighter … and more glorious still

Until, hov’ring above the hill

Where shepherds watched their flocks by night –

And robed in splendid, glorious white –

An angel spoke and Jacob fell,

Sure that the news he’d come to tell

Was justice, wrath, and death assured

For doubting all his father’s word

About the bread, about our souls,

And how life’s more than cups and bowls

And yeast and grain and stomachs full.

But then he felt a kind word pull

Him off his face and to his feet:

“My news for you is true and sweet,

Like wafers spread with honey wild –

In Bethlehem’s been born a child!

A king – like manna for your souls!

You’ll find him near the donkey foals

Inside a manger filled with hay.

For unto you is born this day

A Savior who is Christ the Lord,

The Son of God, the Living Word!”

As Jacob rushed back down the trail,

He tripped over a water pail

And tumbled down upon his back.

As he looked up into the black

Of night … his eyes fixed on that gate.

And now its slogan filled with weight.

Once more: “Beth-lehem: House of Bread”.

It was just as his father said!

So learn the truth of Bethl’em’s gate.

It’s not the food that’s on your plate;

Nor if your body’s strong and whole.

The bread of God is for your soul!

Christmas – a tale of bread from heav’n

Which to our race is freely giv’n.