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Loaves and fishes

Fr. Rich Miserendino

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Chalice, Bible and altar cross.

(Jn 6:1-15) (July 28)

God is never outdone in generosity.

It’s a truth of our faith that touches deep down to the roots of the universe. After all, everything we behold, every atom in every molecule in every second of every day is God’s creative gift. That’s tough to outdo. That said, the principle still rings true in little things and sheds light on our Gospel this Sunday (Jn 6:1-15), wherein we hear the famed miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes.

Critics of Jesus often point out that, if Jesus were really good and really God, he’d solve world hunger with the skills on display this Sunday. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate show of benevolence? Why feed people for a day when you can feed them for a lifetime, eternity even?

Pope Benedict XVI provides a helpful reply to those critics in the first volume of his book trilogy entitled “Jesus of Nazareth,” paraphrased here in summary. At stake here is literally everything: who God is, who we are, and what we’re meant for as human beings. Three key elements help us to see this, interpret the passage, and answer the critique.

First, we notice that the people have come away from the city to hear Jesus speak. They’ve left their ordinary routines and lives behind, in a sense. Indeed, they were in such a rush that they forgot to pack a lunch, or rather trusted instinctively that the catering situation would somehow work itself out. When we add this “exodus from the life of old” to the fact that Jesus takes his seat on the mountain and that this episode happens during Passover, we arrive at an interesting conclusion. It clues us into the fact that here, Jesus is assuming the role of the new Moses. How were people fed by the old Moses in the desert? By God, with bread from heaven (and other miracles, too). The same is true here. Not for nothing does this passage start the famous “Bread of Life” discourse. In sum, though, the miracle is preceded by the people following the Lord in faith.

Second, we have the fact that there is the people’s openness to give God what meager rations they have in that same spirit of faith and trust. Imagine being the only one on the hike who packed a sandwich. Now imagine giving up that sandwich to share, knowing you might not even get a bite in return. The boy in the Gospel provides what he has with generosity, again in faith that somehow, God will bring it to rights. That’s some heroic trust! That he provides generously from his poverty is evidenced by his barley loaves, the gnarly, crunchy bread of the poor.

Throughout this, we glimpse the third element as well: Trust in God to provide the bread. In sum, there’s the following of Jesus and openness to his word, the giving to God of all we have, and the bedrock trust in God to provide.

What answer does this give to our critic? A mouthful:

First, one could reasonably agree that God could indeed provide dinner miraculously each night, but then again, this would place God at the level of prepaid vending machine rather than sovereign Lord. Moreover, there is more than enough food currently in the world to solve world hunger. What’s needed isn’t a magic solution of more food (which we’d likely just find new ways to fight over), but instead a conversion of hearts wounded by sin. That only comes from 1) following the Lord, 2) trusting him to provide, and 3) being generous with what we have. 

One could further note a paradoxical thing about miracles: If they happen constantly, we have a bad habit of considering them “normal life” rather than miraculous, and as a result forgetting God on that score, too. And finally, a magical meal service from God would only further obscure the critical point — we’re not made for this world. We’re made for eternity with God.

It turns out that, if we are generous with God, he is not outdone in generosity. But this generosity requires our conversion of heart and generosity from our seeming poverty in return. It also turns out that God does want to nourish us for all eternity, just not with bread of this world. The question is, are we willing to follow Jesus, trust in his Word, and rely totally on him to receive it?

Fr. Miserendino is chaplain at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg.

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