Last Sunday’s Gospel provided a clue for this Johannine detour that we will be making for the next few weeks. Today’s episode which takes place just before the Jewish feast of the Passover is our stepping stone for this thoughtful Eucharistic pilgrimage. The crowd seemed to have a sense of Jesus’ itinerary and when He arrived, they were already waiting for Him. We read that Jesus took pity on the people because they were like sheep without a shepherd.
Compassion presents a segue for our entry into the reflexion and our attention is directed to two interconnected themes—God’s generosity and our faith. We witness God’s ample generosity as the Good Shepherd who takes care of His flock. In the Book of Kings, the multiplication of loaves is reminiscent of Moses providing the hungry Israelites with manna from heaven. Here, in a time of famine, Elisha forwent his entitlement to the first fruits of the harvest, trusting that God will surely sustain His people. What Elisha’s voluntary renunciation highlights is the connexion between sacrifice, that is, in the offering of the first fruits and the worship of God.
What is offered to the priest symbolises a thanksgiving to God for His goodness. Thus, when the Elisha waived his rights to the offering, he was in rightfully and humbly taking his place in the hierarchy of worship. What he did was to allow the creature to honour the Creator. Praise belongs to God and furthermore, in this case, it befits God alone to satisfy the hunger of the people. Through Elisha, God’s compassion flowed generously as they had more than enough to eat.
This miracle is repeated in the Gospel but with a difference. Firstly, there was no famine except that food was basically beyond easy access. Secondly, the new Elisha will feed a much larger crowd using an even more limited resources. Instead of 20 barley loaves for 100, Jesus had only 5 loaves and 2 fish. And the gathered assembly numbered 5000 men, not counting women and children. While Philip may have fussed about the inadequate resources, Jesus made them sit down, thus, assuring them that they will be fed. What followed “may” prove the common dictum God cannot be outdone by our generosity. But that is not the point of the miracle. The whole idea about giving, in this case, of the boy’s fish and loaves, is never about our open-handedness, kindness or charity. Perhaps it helps explain why there is a saying that “when you give alms, you left hand must not know what your right hand is doing” (Mt 6:3). What this miracle shows is that our benevolence or altruism is giving God the space to work. In that way, generosity in extending assistance is deeply an act of worship. In offering to God what we have, God will always make up for what is lacking. Time and again, this truth is experienced in how food is more than enough whenever we are generous in sharing.
The lesson we take away is really useful for us during this pandemic. God’s providence may help us understand what is within our powers to accomplish. We are definitely challenged because our notion of generosity is premised on inadequacy and therefore, based on excess. We suffer a nagging fear that there may not be enough for us in the end, and therefore our idea of giving is based on what we have as surplus or extra. It is natural because we based our estimation on what we know or what we see. The man from Baal-shalishah considered 20 loaves as insufficient to feed that many. Andrew presented to Jesus only what he could count—merely 5 loaves and the 2 fish. This brings us into the second theme.
Faith expands what the sense of sight can perceive. When our standard of measurement is based on scarcity, we will always see a shortage of resources. The context for this Sunday 1st Reading and Gospel is the fulfilment of a basic need—nourishment. It is not the situation that our agricultural complex is incapable of producing enough food to feed 7 billion people. In fact, in some instances, our production is too efficient that farmers are paid not to plant. Thus, the pervasiveness of hunger is mind-boggling but this phenomenon can be traced to our consumption patterns in which waste has become an accepted part of how we organise life. What is worse is that pets get better treatment than humans.
This pandemic, with loss of employment on such a massive scale might give us food for thought about generosity and faith. The dreaded days of the future are already here as a sizeable population would have burnt through their meagre savings. Who would have thought that this once proud and prosperous nation would be reduced to flying the “White Flag” to draw attention to one’s dire need for ordinary daily sustenance? As the economy continues to shrink, we can be certain that a scarcity-mentality will take over as people strain to donate. On the one hand, folks want to give. But on the other hand, the nagging fear is that there might not be enough for themselves. The angst of scarcity is misplaced trust. Instead of trusting in God, we are convinced that the solution lies in our hands and not God’s. We depend too much on what we can do and too little on what God can give. In balancing, both are not mutually exclusive in the sense that man plays no role in solving the issue of hunger. We have a participatory role in alleviating human misery, particularly of chronic hunger.
But, as Pope Francis remarked, “I distrust a charity that costs nothing and does not hurt” and our grace is to finetune a balance. In terms of generosity, C.S. Lewis reminds us, “I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is give more that we can spare”. “More than we can spare” is to wade deep into the waters of faith. If gratitude makes us human, then generosity makes us divine. Generosity is a discipline of faith because it allows us to enter deeper into trusting God. The problem is when our hands are full or “grabby”, then God cannot give because we do not trust that when and what we let go, God will replenish. It is under God’s providence that faith makes present what is not available to the senses because faith sees the future now and not tomorrow. Jesus showed that 2000 years ago. The multiplication of the loaves inaugurated and made present the future Kingdom. Perhaps it now makes sense that God does what He does best when our faith is the size of a mustard seed.
We will need this faith soon enough on two levels. At a surface level, we may not be facing global famine now but the question “Where can we buy enough food to feed that many?” is relevant in a pandemic where gainful employment is lost. At a deeper level, watching Jesus the Good Shepherd feed 5000 with fish and bread, we also realise that physical nourishment is simply a prelude because there is another hunger, more fundamental, that gnaws at the human heart. Jesus came because this existential ache or thirst can only be slaked by the food and drink of eternity. We will need faith to fully appreciate that Jesus wants to feed us with His Body and His Blood so that we may live forever.