Lost in Translation

Years ago, my family went to Sicily for two months. I was young -- seven years old -- and we were staying in an apartment that my parents had used when they'd been missionaries there several years earlier. Another family lived there now and were our hosts during our visit. The apartment was on the second floor of a small high-rise overlooking the huge city of Palermo, and the access door to the high-rise locked automatically anytime the door was shut. There were intercom buttons that visitors could push that would buzz inside the apartment, and the apartment inhabitants could come glance over their balcony to see who was visiting, and then unlock the door from their apartment.

My brother and a couple of friends and I had all gone down to the street to explore, and -- being the youngest and the only girl -- I entertained myself while the boys played. After a while, I looked up and realized I was all alone, and the boys must have gone back inside the apartment.

It took me a bit to identify the correct high-rise (the whole street looked alike to my unaccustomed eyes), but I finally figured out which one it was. I approached the door, but to my frustration and increasing consternation, I realized the intercom buttons were far too high for me to reach. I jumped several times, always slapping the wall just a little short of the buttons. 

Panic started to set in. I knew my parents would eventually realize I wasn't with the boys, but we were given quite a bit of free-time to play, and it might have been a while before my absence was discovered. The street was empty of people, and there was nothing to stand on. I knocked hard. I tried "halloo-ing," but no one heard me. More jumping ensued, but my attempts were getting weaker and weaker as my legs tired.

A man materialized behind me, which startled me, because the street had been empty in my desperate scans. He smiled and said something, but I couldn't understand the language. I just stared at him. He nodded and pointed at the bottom button, his eyebrows raised. 

This one?

I understood! Language was no longer an issue. He blew by my lack of familiarity with the Italian language (or Sicilian dialect; I have no idea which he used), and identified my need. And then... he met me there. Here's an important point: languages are only tools for communication. Communication is the goal; languages are the tools to arrive at the goal.

Scrap the Italian; the man needed to use universal sign language to communicate with me. He's going to press the button for me! But it was the next button up. I shook my head.

He moved his finger up to the second one. This one?

I nodded. He pressed it, and then stood there with me for a moment in silence.

A head appeared over the balcony above us. It was Martha, our hostess for the summer. "Oh, Tammie! Just a second!" I well remember the relief that flooded me as I heard the door buzz. It had gotten to the point where my overactive seven-year-old imagination had been picturing spending the night in the doorway on the hard sidewalk, forgotten by friends and family, destitute, alone, and hungry. ;)

The man pushed open the door for me and waved as I walked through. He said something else, but I didn't know what it was. The thing that counted was the communication. The language itself was ineffective. The place of understanding was when he pointed to my need, and I responded.

That was a really long story to wrap up the point I found in John 6:25-59. Jesus has returned to Capernaum, and the crowds -- the ones to whom He had just fed a miracle by turning five barley loaves and two fish into a feast for many thousands -- have caught up with Him. 

They surround Him. "When did You get here?" they ask. 

Jesus, per His typical style, addresses the point He wants to make rather than giving them a direct answer. To paraphrase, Jesus says: "You're looking for me because you had your fill of food, not because of the miraculous sign I gave you. You're focusing on the wrong thing. I give eternal food; your stomachs are still digesting the barley loaves. Here's a clue: Believe in the One God has sent."

The people's next question kills me. This same crowd who has watched five loaves become a feast from Jesus' hands asks Him: "What miraculous sign will You give that we may see it and believe You? What will You do? Our forefathers ate the manna in the desert; as it is written; 'He gave them bread from heaven to eat.'"

Tamara's response: What do you mean, what miraculous sign?! Didn't you just see what Jesus did on the other side of the lake? That food is still in your stomachs, and you're asking for a sign?! 

Jesus' response: ... He could have preached a whole sermon to them about faith in Him as the One Who comes from the Father (and in point of fact, He does), but look at how He starts out: 

He focuses on communication, because without it, they're lost. He finds the point of understanding, and He dives right in. The people have brought up the miracle of manna in the desert during Moses' time. Fine, He'll start there. "I tell you the truth, it is not Moses who has given you the bread from heaven, but it is My Father who gives you the True Bread from heaven. For the bread of God is He Who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world."

See, Jesus could have given His message straight out: "I am the Son of God, come from heaven to earth, to die on a cross, to conquer death, and to reign for eternity. If you believe that I've done this for you, you'll have eternal life." He would have lost the crowd then and there. He found the connection point -- the place where they could understand Him -- and He met them there.

For context: these people are of the nation of Israel. They've got a long-standing history, much of which we can find narrated throughout the Old Testament, and they're quite familiar with their heritage. They use that history to make a point to Jesus. They remind Jesus that Moses gave the Israelite people bread from heaven.

Jesus, in turn, reminds the people that God gave that bread, not Moses. 

The people remind Jesus that manna in the desert was a constant miracle: Where Jesus had fed 5,000-plus, Moses had fed a nation. Where Jesus had done a one-time act, Moses had pulled it off for forty years. Where Jesus had given barley loaves, Moses had given "bread from heaven."

Jesus counters with this: "I am (a duo of words with which any Israelite will be most familiar, as it a Name of Yahweh) the Bread of life. He who comes to Me will never go hungry, and He who believes in Me will never be thirsty."

Think about the qualities of the Bread Jesus offers:

1.) The Bread of life doesn't just feed a nation; it feeds the whole world from the beginning of time to the end of it. Every person who eats of it, no matter what nationality or time stamp in the pages of history, will have eternal life.

2.) The Bread of life is a constant feast, an eternal satisfaction (He who comes to Me will never go hungry). Its sustenance doesn't last for a day or for forty years. It lasts for eternity.

3.) The Bread of life is from heaven. It may not look like the little wafers that fell on the ground when the Israelites were wandering in the desert. It comes in the form of the Son of God, who offers salvation for anyone who believes in Him.

So with that single sentence, Jesus finds the point of understanding. He's got a divine message to introduce to human minds, and the point of understanding in this chapter... is bread. Hunger to satiation. Grumbling stomachs to sighs of contentment.

There's an old song written by Dottie Rambo called "He Looked Beyond My Faults," and the main line that stands out to me is this: "He looked beyond my faults and saw my needs."

That's the point of understanding. That's the meeting place where communication happens. Jesus focuses on exactly the place where we can understand Him, He bypasses all our faults, fears, failures, and frustrations, and He points to our needs.

This one?

Yes, that one. 

That's my Jesus. That's my King.