Homily: Saturday, 5th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kgs 12:26-32;13:33-34 • Ps 106 • Mk 8:1-10

Mark’s Gospel has often been described as a Passion narrative with a long introduction. And that introduction moves right along.

Mark also offers us the story of the disciples and their often confused response to Jesus’ call. Moved by the Spirit, the twelve attach themselves to Jesus with little understanding of His teachings or what His call to discipleship really entails. It’s a story, then, of spiritual growth, of gradual formation, a time when the Spirit plants seed after seed in the hearts of these friends and followers of Jesus.

Like every seed planted by the Spirit, these sprout and bloom according to His schedule, not ours. The Spirit can move quickly indeed, or He can lead us to the truth over a lifetime. And it’s our response that makes all the difference. We see signs of this in today’s Gospel passage.

4,000 people, a huge crowd, have been with Jesus for three days, and have eaten nothing. But we hear no complaints from the crowd, for in their hunger for Truth they have been fed with the Word. They seem satisfied. For them it has been three days of contemplative prayer, for what is contemplative prayer but placing oneself in Jesus’ presence and listening, listening to the Word so He can alter one’s very being.

It’s also a time of fasting. But in his compassion, Jesus knows once He leaves them, their fast will end, and they will return to the world hungry. They will need to be restored so they can carry the Word to their homes, into their everyday lives where they can live from faith.

Jesus turns to His disciples and simply states a truth: “They have nothing to eat.”

“How can we get bread in the desert?” they ask.

They have not yet understood that He is the Bread of Life, that wherever Jesus is, there is Bread. Yes, Jesus is the Eucharist, a gift He will institute at the Last Supper – the bread, His Body – the wine, His Blood – the gift of His Presence until the end of the age. But as yet they don’t know this.

Have they so soon forgotten His earlier feeding of the 5,000? Miracle upon miracle, healing upon healing, and yet they ask: “How can we get bread in the desert?” Does Jesus answer their question? No. Instead, He asks the disciples another. “How many loaves have you?”

This, brothers and sisters, is a moment of grace and the loaves are its image. Grace is present because Jesus is present. It flows outward from Him to all who are open to receive it. But grace can never be a private possession. It must be passed on, flow from one to another.

Yes, how many loaves do you disciples have? How much faith do you have? Do you have enough? Are you instruments of grace?

“Seven,” is their one-word reply. Does it point to the Spirit’s seven gifts they will receive at Pentecost when the full meaning of their discipleship is revealed? Perhaps so.

Jesus takes the loaves, but He takes nothing without thanking the Father. He gives thanks for the disciples’ bread, bread meant for them and for Him, but now destined for thousands. He breaks the bread, as He will break Himself in the Eucharist, and hands the bread to His disciples. They, in turn, distribute the bread; doing the miraculous, as the Bread received from the Church carries His miraculous Presence into the world.

Here we see the Church in the process of becoming, for the Bread it is given, the Eucharist – it, too, is blessed, broken, and multiplied. Jesus, through the work of the Holy Spirit, offers Himself, but His disciples carry Him into the world.

Jesus also blesses a few small fish so the people can eat an ordinary meal, the same kind of meal the disciples would eat with the Lord. This meal, this everyday experience, becomes for the people an extraordinary, miraculous experience. Were those few small fish a sign, a reminder that Simon Peter and the others must soon abandon their boats, their nets, their lives and become fishers of men?

Did the disciples learn this day that when they give all that they have – even if it’s only seven loaves and a few fish – God will multiply it a thousand fold?

And what about you and me?

Can we abandon everything in our lives that is keeping us from true discipleship?

Can we, too, hand the loaves and fish of our lives to the Lord and let Him bless, break and multiply them – so we can carry Him into the world?

Will you let God work His miracles in the everyday ordinariness of your life, so you can be an instrument of His grace?

We are all called, dear friends.

 

Homily Videos

Today our parish's wonderful IT specialist, Krysten, gave me a DVD containing videos of three recent homilies I had preached. They are embedded below so you can listen instead of read, if you are so inclined.
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Homily for Monday of the 3rd Week of Easter. You can read the homily here.

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Homily for Saturday of the 3rd Week of Easter. You can read the homily here.

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Homily for Monday of the 4th Week of Easter. You can read the homily here.

Homily: Saturday, 3rd Week of Easter

Reading: Acts 9:31-42; Ps 116; Jn 6:60-69
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 "Do you also want to leave?" Simon Peter answered Him: "Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life" [Jn 6:67-68].

Yes, the Apostles stayed with Jesus, but on that day in Capernaum, after hearing these words, many of Jesus' disciples walked away, unable to accept this hard teaching on the Eucharist. And what a teaching it was...

"Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day" [Jn 6:53-54].

Jesus' words created a rift, one that today, 2,000 years later, hasn't narrowed. How sad for those who do not believe, who are unable to accept Jesus' teaching on His Real Presence. It's sad because they are unable to experience the power of the Eucharist in their lives. 

How did the fathers of the Second Vatican Council describe the Eucharist?

''...the source and summit of the Christian life" [Lumen Gentium, 11].

"The source and summit" -- that covers it all, doesn't it? Can anything be more powerful?

A deacon friend of mine, who's a chaplain at a Catholic hospital, told me about a time he was asked to give a hospital tour to a wealthy woman who had donated a substantial amount of money.

She wasn't a Catholic so when they entered the chapel, he explained the significance of the red sanctuary light and the presence of the Blessed Sacrament in the Tabernacle. She asked him if he really believed that Jesus Christ was present there under the appearance of bread.

Of course, he said, "Yes."

She just shook her head and said, "If I believed that, I'd never be able to tear myself away from this room."

Oh, yes, how we take for granted so many of the graces and blessings we receive daily from God.

It wasn't too long ago - the time of my grandparents - when it was customary for people to receive the Eucharist only on Sundays and feast days. It was St. Pius X who flung open the tabernacles of the world.

During the days of our patron, St. Vincent de Paul, there was a movement to do just the opposite: to permanently close all the tabernacles. The Jansenists of France had persuaded large numbers of people that few, if any, were worthy to receive the Eucharist. They believed, too, that Christ did not die for all, but for just a favored few.

Fortunately, St. Vincent succeeded in convincing  Rome of the dangers of this heretical doctrine. Vincent saw the value of frequent Holy Communion, even if the Church at the time did not encourage people to receive Christ's Body and Blood with the frequency it does today.

The challenge to us, who have the joy and privilege of receiving the Eucharist frequently, is to keep our souls in a sense of wonder that the Bread of Life we eat here today is the same as that given to the Apostles at the Last Supper.

How did Jesus put it?

"I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst" [Jn 6:35].

Jesus says this to each of us as we receive Him during Holy Communion. As Pope Benedict once wrote: 

"It is the Lord who receives us and assumes us into Himself."

In other words, Christ doesn't become conformed to us; we become conformed to Christ.

But there's more. Because Eucharist is a sacrament, we also receive the Holy Spirit, the soul of Christ. If we are in a state of grace, then, the Trinity dwells within. Everything's there for us. 

What a marvelous gift! And what wonders it can work in our lives! With the Author of Life within us, we have absolutely nothing to fear. Death has no power over us.

After Communion Fr. Cromwell likes to lead us in that beautiful prayer -- Anima Christi or The Soul  of Christ -- a prayer attributed to St. Ignatius Loyola, 

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.

Body of Christ, save me.

Blood of Christ, inebriate me.

Water from the side of Christ, wash me...

Yes, indeed, brothers and sisters, the Last Supper is ongoing, still sanctifying, still saving. But we must pray for open hearts, that the world will come to recognize Jesus in this wondrous gift of the Eucharist.

We should pray, too, for ourselves, that we use this gift well, and bring Christ's Eucharistic presence to others. 

Homily: 19th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kgs 19:4-8; Ps 34; Eph 4:30-5:2; Jn 6:41-51

Some years ago, a high school student asked me why, if God really exists, He doesn’t manifest Himself in some obvious way. “I mean,” he said, “like, if Jesus really is God, why doesn’t he just appear, you know, in the sky or somewhere? Or maybe He could perform some really big miracle, something that everyone could see.”

“And what would that accomplish?” I asked.

He stared at me as if I were, as they say, totally clueless. “Well, you know, everyone would have to believe in Him. I mean, how could anyone ignore it?”

“And you think that this would change people?”

“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t it change you?”

I admitted that a miracle of the sort he envisioned would no doubt have its effect on me. It would certainly reaffirm my faith in Jesus as the Son of God.

“But what of those who don’t already believe?” I asked. “Or those whose faith is weak, and whose lives reflect this weakness? Would they suddenly transform their lives, become holy and obey God’s commandments?”

“Sure.” he said, “I mean, it would be pretty dumb not to.”

For a moment, I considered my own faith...and my sinfulness, and my inability to justify the disparity between them. Yes, I found myself thinking, it is pretty dumb to believe and yet to continue resisting God’s Will through sin and disobedience.

In today’s second reading, St. Paul chastises the Christians at Ephesus on this very point. Don’t grieve the Holy Spirit, he tells them, with your bitterness, your anger, your malice, your slander toward one another. In other words, it’s not enough to say we’re Christians; we must be Christians -- as Paul says -- “imitators of God,” imitators of Christ.

 But like the Ephesians we instead let ourselves be consumed by anger, by hatreds, by lust, by greed. In varying degrees, we all do it, don’t we?

We see it in families, in homes where love is absent and communication is limited to criticism, angry outbursts, and worse.

We see it in the workplace, where too often the just wage is sacrificed on the altar of investor’s profits. Or where commercial decisions are made with no thought given to their moral implications. As the chief executive of a large corporation once said to me, “I don’t see where personal morality has any place in business decisions.” And he claims to be a Christian.

We see it in our professions, where, for example, some doctors supposedly committed to healing devote themselves to bringing only death...to the unborn, to the sick, to the elderly.

We see it in our popular culture, in movies and on TV, on the Internet, in our music... where immorality reigns supreme, where God’s Word and His Church are mocked, where the Ten Commandments are consigned to the dust heap of irrelevance. "Hey, it's a new millennium," they tell us.

Sometimes we even see it in the parking lot after Mass, but that’s a subject for another homily.

Like some of the Ephesians who so exasperated St. Paul, too many of us try to compartmentalize our lives into Christian times -- pretty much restricted to Sunday mornings -- and other times, when just about anything goes.

Strange behavior, isn’t it? Here we are, believing Christians, who are told by Jesus -- No, commanded by the Son of God -- to repent, to change the direction of our lives so they reflect the Gospel. And instead of obeying, we carry on as if...well, as if He didn’t exist. And yet it’s He, the Creative Word of God, who sustains our very existence. In the words of my teenage friend, “pretty dumb” of us, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why Jesus was so fond of comparing us to sheep, perhaps the least intelligent of His warm-blooded creatures.

Back now to that conversation with the young man…

To convince him that God knows what He’s about, that spectacular miracles in themselves don’t create faithful Christians, I turned to chapter 6 of John, the source of today’s Gospel reading.

The scene depicted took place in the synagogue at Capernaum the day after Jesus had fed thousands by multiplying a few loaves and fish. His listeners, many of the very same people who had filled their bellies with bread at that miraculous picnic on a Galilean hillside, were all attentive until He began to reveal His true identity. “I am the bread which came down from heaven,” he told them.

Ignoring the miracles they had witnessed, instead of listening to Him, they challenged Him: “Now, wait just a minute. You’re not from heaven. You’re from Nazareth. We know you. You’re the son of Joseph and Mary.”

Interesting, isn’t it? They’re simply unable to reconcile their earthly knowledge of Jesus as the local boy who helped out in Joseph’s carpenter shop with what they’ve seen Him do or with the claim He’s just made.

Like Elijah in today’s first reading, Jesus is rejected; and the parallel doesn’t stop there. Elijah had just performed a spectacular miracle in God’s Name in which he had defeated the priests of the pagan god, Baal. And the result? Elijah was forced to flee into the desert for his life.

But Jesus doesn’t flee. He persists and says, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. I will raise him up on the last day.”

Faith, then, isn’t something we can achieve through our own efforts, like a promotion at work. It’s a gift from the Father, a free, totally gratuitous gift. We must, however, be disposed to receive it. And we must cherish it, nourish it, and help it grow through prayer and acts of love.

“Follow the way of love,” St. Paul instructs us, “even as Christ loved you.”

But Jesus goes on, and adds these remarkable words, “I am the bread of life...If anyone eats this bread he shall live forever; the bread I will give is my flesh, for the life of the world.”

Here Jesus reveals the very essence of the Good News: He has come for one reason: to offer His Life so that we may share in eternal life with the Father. As we will see in next Sunday’s Gospel, with these words Jesus also introduces God’s most extraordinary gift: the Eucharist, the bread of life, the true miracle performed daily on this altar and thousands of others throughout the world.

You see, Jesus knows us far better than we know ourselves. He knows how we struggle on this brief journey to Eternity. He knows how we suffer through the illnesses, the sacrifices, the addictions, the rejections, the fears of this life. He hears our cries when those we love are hurting, for He, too, has suffered.

To strengthen us, to nourish our souls, to keep us close to Him, the Father gives us His gift of Love. He gives us His Son, body and blood, soul and divinity, under the appearances of bread and wine. He permits us to share, again and again, in the sacrifice of Christ.

The people in the synagogue at Capernaum rejected this message, the Good News of salvation. They rejected the gift. And they rejected Jesus Himself. Why? Because it all got in the way of what they thought they knew.

From our perspective. 2,000 years later, we see that human nature has remained essentially the same. Spectacular miracles won’t guarantee faith. Faith demands a receptive heart open to God’s Word, and a willingness to transform our lives.

So, as we receive the Bread of Life at Communion today, let’s approach with faith-filled hearts, committed to living the Christian life that God wants for each of us. Then, in the words of today’s psalm, we too can “Taste and see how good the Lord is.”

Deacons and Homilies

As ordained permanent deacons we may preach only if we receive the faculty to do so from our bishop. And then, once we're assigned to a parish, the frequency of our preaching usually depends on whatever agreement we have reached with our pastor. In general the Church encourages its priests to preach regularly and suggests that deacons preach occasionally. Our parish is somewhat unusual in that we have so many deacons assigned. The upshot is that each month a deacon can expect to preach at one or two weekday Masses and perhaps one Vigil or Sunday Mass. Since we are all involved in various parish ministries -- in effect part-time, unpaid ministers -- this preaching schedule actually works out quite well, at least for me. Preaching well demands preparation, and it's not unusual for me to spend many hours writing a Sunday homily. If I preached every weekend, I suspect my other ministries would probably suffer.

But if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's to be prepared. On far too many occasions, for one reason or another, I've been called on to preach at the last minute. Normally this isn't a real problem since I've been a deacon long enough that I can usually put together a reasonably good homily after a brief review of the readings and a few minutes of thought. But I really dislike having to "wing it" and would rather deliver a well-constructed, well-prepared homily. Since I have always written my homilies using the computer, they are all stored on my trusty hard drive, almost 20 years of homilies. If I'm actually scheduled to preach I always write a new homily; however, if I'm not scheduled to preach I look through the stored homilies for the particular Sunday in question, select one, print it, and take it with me. It's rare when I have to use it but it has happened.

Indeed, it happened yesterday evening at the 6 pm Vigil Mass. Shortly before Mass, Fr. Peter, my pastor, asked if I were preaching more than once during August. I replied, "No, just once a few weeks from now," and then half-jokingly I added, "but I'm always prepared, even today if necessary." With that he said, "Wonderful, because I have four Masses this weekend and could use a break from preaching. You do it." And so I did. 

I preached pretty much the same homily I gave three years ago and later posted on this blog. Any changes were minor and really didn't alter the central theme. It's based largely on the Gospel reading from John 6 and, therefore, focuses on the Eucharistic gift that is Jesus Christ. If you want to read it, here's the link: Homily, 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B

Homily: 18th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Readings: Ex 16:2-4,12-15; Psalm 78; Eph 4:17,20-24; John 6:24-35

Some years ago – far too many years ago – during one of his vacations, I took one of our sons out to lunch at a local pub in our Cape Cod town. As we chatted over our meal, I couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to be enjoying his food. As I watched him, he looked up at me and said with a big smile, “You know, Dad, there’s only one thing better than food. And that’s free food.” I started to remind him that the food he was consuming with such gusto wasn’t entirely free, at least not from my perspective…but then I thought the better of it. No sense bursting his bubble. He’d learn soon enough that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so tolerant.

Indeed, in today’s passage from chapter 6 of John’s Gospel, we find Jesus speaking about this very thing to the people of Galilee – for they had just received what they thought was a free lunch. As you’ll recall, in last Sunday’s passage Jesus performed the great miracle of the loaves and fishes, feeding a hungry crowd of thousands. The miracle so excited the people they wanted to make Jesus their king, proclaim Him the Messiah, the one sent by God to return Israel to its former glory.

Yes, the only thing better than food is free food. And they want more of the same. They want more miracles, more healings, more food, more of everything. They want it all. If Jesus can feed them all so easily, if Jesus can heal the sick, if He can free the possessed, raise the dead…well, if He can do all these things, what can’t He do? He can do everything. And that’s what they want. Just imagine it. All our troubles, all our drudgery, no more working for our daily bread – all this is over.

But before they can grab Him and proclaim Him their king, he leaves them. But they will not be dissuaded. They track Him down and find Him. Jesus, though, turns the tables on them. He confronts them with the truth about themselves.

You don’t want Me. You just want your bellies filled. You just want the free food that I can give. You just want someone who can miraculously relieve all the hunger in your life.

Can you picture that crowd, brothers and sisters? Can you see them pushing against each other, pressing in on Jesus, not really sure what they want, but knowing somewhere, somewhere deep within their being, that Jesus can provide it? And so they ask Him, “What can we do to accomplish the works of God?”

Yes, indeed, people hunger for food. But humanity’s deepest hungers are not expressed by the rumblings of its collective stomach. We hunger for meaning in our lives: “What can we do to accomplish the works of God?” We hunger for the hope that comes with the promise of eternal life. We hunger for peace – peace in our world, peace in our families, peace of mind, and the peace that only Jesus can bring: peace of soul – God’s peace.

Do we see ourselves in that crowd? Do we hear those same words come from our lips? Do we realize that even after 2,000 years, we’re still asking the same question? Can we accept the answer?

No, it’s not the bread from the deli, the belly food, that will satisfy our deepest hungers. What we seek, what all humanity seeks, is the food that only God can provide. We seek His very life, His divine life within us. We seek God’s presence, His indwelling in our hearts; for this and only this can give us “the peace of God that surpasses all understanding.”

Some in the crowd sensed this. Some realized that Jesus spoke of something greater, something beyond their understanding: “bread…which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They begged Him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Yes, they’re thinking…what wonderful bread this must be.

And what is this bread, this gift? The manna in the desert was a mere foreshadowing of God’s greatest gift to His people. For this bread, this gift, is Jesus Himself. You know the words: "I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst."

This is Jesus Christ, the Bread of Life, the Bread that comes down from heaven. He showers Himself upon us, multiplying the bread made by human hands, sanctifying it, making it divine, filling it with His own life, His own being, offering us a gift so great it boggles the mind. It is pure grace, food for our souls, food that will never leave us hungry, food that will lead us to holiness despite all that the world can throw at us.

Yes, when the nights are long and painful, and dawn brings only more hardship and hurt, Jesus answers our question not simply with words, but with an act of divine generosity. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” And it remains with us through the gift of the Eucharist.

You see, brothers and sisters, the only free food is the world’s junk food, the food that perishes. Jesus wants us to work for “the food that endures for eternal life” – for we are called to repent and believe in the Gospel. Instead of junk food, we must seek God’s true soul food, the bread of life, the food that always satisfies, always fills, no matter what we encounter in life.

Like the one who pleaded with Jesus, we too can demand, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Did they know what they were asking of Jesus? Do we know? For like the father who takes his son to lunch, Jesus too must pay. But He pays with His very life. He pays for our sins, our hungers, and does so on the Cross.

The result? Well, here it is, brothers and sisters, right here on this altar…the Eucharist, the bread of life, Jesus Christ, true God and true man, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity. The heart of humanity cries out in hunger and God places His answer right in front of us, a gift from God Himself, of God Himself.

“Sir, give us this bread always.” We sure do demand a lot of the Lord, don’t we? And yet He complies. He gives us this bread. The Father invites us to the living table of His only Son, and at this table, the Holy Spirit fills our hearts with the peace that only God can give.

Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world. How blessed are we to be called to the supper of the Lamb.

Homily: 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: 2 Kings 4:42-44; Psalm 145; Ephesians 4:1-6; John 6:1-15

As some of you know, Diane and I are pretty heavily involved with the Wildwood Soup Kitchen. And if there’s one thing that involvement has taught us it’s that God takes care of His people. It’s really remarkable, you know. Well, I suppose it’s really not all that remarkable because we should expect God to take care of His people. After all, He’s promised to do so again and again. And the history of salvation we encounter in Scripture is all about God fulfilling those promises.

Anyway, last year we served over 75,000 meals and this year we’ll serve even more, and do you know what? We always have enough. We never run out. Just like the crowd on the mountainside, everyone gets fed. Whenever we need something – whether it’s a few hundred pounds of frozen chicken, or money for a walk-in freezer, I don’t care what it is -- we don’t have to ask people for it. Someone just shows up on our doorstep with exactly what we need. Or a large check arrives in the mail. It just appears. And I’m not exaggerating. I don’t have to, because God takes care of his people.

And this is certainly one message that comes across loud and clear in today's readings. Not only does He feed them with food for the body, He also provides food for the soul, and everything else they need to live fully human lives in close union with God, the Source and Goal of all life.

So far this liturgical year we’ve been listening to Mark’s Gospel, but today, instead of hearing Mark tell us of the feeding of the 5,000, we hear John’s version, a Eucharistic version, an introduction to Jesus’ discourse on the Bread of Life. Indeed, we’ll stay with the 6th chapter of John's Gospel for the next five Sundays.

John begins by telling us that Jesus and His disciples crossed over to the opposite shore of the Sea of Galilee. And as we heard in Mark, the crowds had gone before them on foot. What made people walk nine miles to see Jesus? Well, John tells us…because "they saw the signs that Jesus was doing for the sick". Like people everywhere, like us, they had a deep hunger and longing for healing and wholeness in their lives. Of course, some were simply curious, and wanted to see this Jesus perform one of the miracles they’d heard about.

You and I won’t be any better than these if we see this story only as a miraculous multiplication of a bread and fish. All gospel stories are steeped in symbolism and this is especially true of John.

We’re told first that Jesus "went up the mountain" – a reference to Moses on the mountain bringing God's Law to the people. But there’s a significant difference: Jesus is no mere intermediary; He speaks with the same authority as His Father. Unlike Mark, who has Jesus teaching the people first, in John the teaching, as we’ll see in the coming weeks, flows out of the multiplication experience. And, while Moses went up the mountain alone, Jesus brought His disciples with Him. They would be partners in His work, continuing that work after His resurrection. And just as Moses gave the Jewish people God's teaching in the form of the Law and later fed them with manna, so Jesus, the new Moses, will feed the bodies and souls of those who come to Him.

John also mentions that "now the Passover festival was near". Passover, the great feast of the Jews, celebrates their liberation from slavery in Egypt when God led them into freedom as his chosen people. At the Last Supper, just before his death, Jesus gave His disciples -- and the Church -- the great ongoing sign of a new Passover, the Eucharist.

And in today’s miracle, Jesus anticipates that Last Supper scene where He "took the bread, gave thanks, and distributed it to them all…" For in this new Passover Jesus is the central figure, and His suffering, death and resurrection will liberate us from sin and death.

But let’s step back a moment and look first at what leads up to today’s miracle. There is the dialogue with Philip, who always comes as across as rather naive and simple; the guy who takes things literally; who says the things the rest of us think of but are too embarrassed to say. Jesus sets the stage by asking Philip, “Where will we get food for all these people?" Philip looks at the crowd and says, “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little.”

A little like our first reading, isn’t it? Elisha asks God, "How can I serve this to a hundred men?" "Give it to the people to eat," is the simple answer. How does the Gospel promise it? "Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap.” [Lk 6:38] Then Andrew breaks in to tell of a gift: "There is a small boy here with five loaves and two fish." And echoing the words of Elisha adds, "But what use is that among so many?" The next thing we know Jesus has taken those few loaves and fish, and, after blessing them, begins to distribute them.

Note that Jesus didn’t feed the people with nothing. He started with something that was already available. This miracle was made possible because a young boy was willing to share what he had with others, including thousands of strangers around him. You see, God gives life through what is already available to us. But someone has to be the little boy and start the ball rolling.

People are dying of hunger and malnutrition in our world, and it’s not because there isn’t enough food. In some instances they’re being intentionally starved because of hatred. They practice the wrong religion, or come from the wrong tribe or ethnic group. Others are starving because their governments are unbelievably corrupt…still others simply because of inefficiencies and selfishness on the part of others.

You and I can’t do much about some of these things, but we are called to do something, because just like the miracle on the mountainside, the Eucharist we celebrate today is also about giving and about loving. Jesus gave His life on the cross for our salvation, and in the face of such love, we are almost overcome. But He does even more. For the God of the universe makes Himself our food. He gives everything to us, even Himself.  And He does so day after day…and He does so miraculously.

For the bread and wine we offer here today will be consecrated, miraculously changed into Jesus’ Body and Blood, broken, divided, given out to many. But to benefit from this miracle, to receive the Eucharist worthily, we must reflect it in our lives. St. Paul has some harsh words for Christians who want to celebrate the Eucharist but refuse to help the needy members of their community.

There’s another detail worth noting here. In all three of the Synoptic Gospels, the disciples are told to distribute the bread and fish among the people. This of course is a sign of their future mission to bring Christ to the world. But here in John, it’s Jesus Himself who distributes. As we will see in the coming weeks, Jesus will proclaim Himself to be the Living Bread that gives life to the world. You see, John wants to emphasize that Jesus is the source of all spiritual and bodily nourishment. And even though He will use intermediaries, it is always Jesus who comes to us in Word and Eucharist.

In the end, what happened? After 5,000 people had their fill, the leftovers filled twelve baskets -- another sign of the liberality with which God cares for us. The people are so excited they want to make him King, declare Him the Messiah. And they’re right: He is King and Messiah, but they’re also wrong. They’re wrong because of what they missed. They saw the miracle, but missed the message. The only King they’ll see is one in nakedness and shame, a falsely convicted criminal among criminals, hanging on a cross. And where will these crowds be then?

No, the real teaching here is that Jesus is the true source of nourishment for our lives. And if we want that nourishment we must obey the Father who declared, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to him". As St. Paul instructs us in the 2nd reading, we must “live in a manner worthy of the call you have received…striving to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace.”

Brothers and sisters, be prepared to enter totally with Jesus into the paschal mystery of His love-centered life, to mirror His self-giving as a way to life. For when we as a people listen to Him and trust in Him…well, as we’ve already seen, God takes care of His people.