We all need time to process and despite speeding up processes, we cannot speed time up. Time is a constant whereas our feeling about the movement of time is relative. So last week, Jesus postponed His “me” time when He saw the crowd; a really hungry crowd. This week’s Gospel shows us that He found time to be alone to “process” or to unwind.
And in the process, there was a lot of wind. The 1st Reading saw Elijah encountering the storms of life. He was running away from a murderous Queen. But he was also running from the discouragement of his apparently failed ministry. Despite pouring himself into convincing the Israelite who the real God is, the people refused to repent and return to God. True to a God who is faithful, Elijah needed some assurance and vindication that his ministry was in accord with God’s will. He expected God’s vindication to come via the powerful winds, the shattering earthquakes and the blistering fire. But none conveyed God’s presence and instead, he discovered God’s consolation via the caress of the gentle breeze. God breaks through our preconceived ideas of how He is supposed to answer our prayers.
The same scenario is replayed in Paul’s experience. His fellow Jews struggled to come to terms that the awaited Messiah had already made His presence felt. Paul was even willing to embrace rejection if it meant that there was chance that the Jews came to their sense and accept Christ. Salvation came through the Jews but they were either too dense or too many proud to appreciate that.
Storms are basically storms and the Disciples were no different. When the disciples got into the boat, they were settling in but soon enough the storm overtook them and they were frightened by it. Christ entered the tumult and assured them. Peter, their leader, acting according to his character asked for confirmation. When Christ invited him to trust, instead of having a greater faith, Peter faltered. He could not hear the Lord amidst the whirling of the winds.
Life is never a garden of roses. It is messy and despite our meticulous planning, things can happen. What the message of both the 1st Reading and the Gospel is basically this. We can be overwhelmed by fear to the point that we lose sight of what is real. We can give in to fear to the point that we stop living.
That is not what Christ would have wanted for us. Whether we feel it or not, He is never far from us whenever a storm strikes. The irony of our capable world is that we seem to be more fearful. We want greater control over everything but we are unable to tame our fears. Weirdly so.
We struggle with issues of health, problems in our personal relationships and most of all, monetary constraints or worse financial ruin. When Peter sank, he cried out, “Lord, save me”. Of course, Peter momentarily lost sight of Christ near to him as the winds buffeted him. Nevertheless, he cried out and Jesus reached out to him.
We often miss God if we look for Him the spectacular. Of course, the spectacular is a reminder of God’s omnipotence and presence. See a huge Cathedral and be mesmerised by the sheer immensity. Stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon and be swept away by the sheer power of the wind and water that created the beautiful valleys and fast flowing rivers. Those are just spectacular and like the storms that distract we can be side-tracked to trying to find God in the grand gestures. Nothing is wrong with that.
What we might miss are the gentle caress of God in the ebbing waves. God is found in the silent and the quiet. Which brings us to an important point. How do we allow God to show Himself? If we keep looking for Him in the noisy we will not encounter Him. As St Augustine used to say, “My soul is restless, Lord, until it rests in you”. The rest is necessary if we want to encounter God. Take a step back. “Be still and know that I am God”. The quiet time before the Blessed Sacrament, takes us away from the kind of mentality which says, “I am in control, even of you God”. Without slowing down, it is not easy to sense God’s presence even though He is always there.
Escalators in some places move at incredible speed. You find them in places where people struggle for time. They need time to get more things done or they need more time for themselves etc. Somehow, the speed of how things move, cherished as a modern expression of life, is the same speed that one goes to death. We are dying, whether we like it or not. That we are constantly in a rush to be somewhere is emblematic of the rush to death. It is again ironical that we want to live forever and yet we are rushing to our death.
Perhaps this exercise is helpful. We may be given to fearfulness and that can be paralysing. If we can settle on a truth, perhaps we can do something about it. The truth or the inescapable reality is that there will be storms, like them or not. The path to heaven is never going to be rosy. If we accept this truth, perhaps another saying is essential. It is not the years we have that make life meaningful. Rather it is the living that gives our years meaning. If we trust that God has our back, we can perhaps get more out of life. Look for God but do not be distracted by the spectacular.
Elon Musk is valued at US$1 trillion. A staggering value but that does not mean he is sitting on a pile of ready cash of that amount. Still he has enough money to spend over a few lifetimes. Some people have immense wealth. If wealth is a blessing, then we may say that God has been abundantly generous. In fact, the responsorial psalm is radically spot on in describing that God opens wide His hand and grants our desires.
This generosity of God is revealed in the 2nd Reading for “neither death nor life, no angel, no prince, nothing that exists, nothing still to come, not any power, or height or depth, nor any created thing, can ever come between us and the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord”. Then, in the Gospel, God’s love is abundantly clear as He multiplied food for all to eat and be satisfied.
God is abundantly lavish, that is apparent and in today’s Gospel we get to witness this largesse of our Lord at work. Consider these facts. He had laboured and His miracles were numerous. Yet when He returned to Nazareth, He was rejected by the townsfolk. Then He received news of His cousin’s untimely execution and while trying to find some time for Himself, the crowd followed Him. Even the disciples knew when to stop by telling Him to send the people away. He did not and would not. Instead, He showed us how God’s blessing can be like.
Despite that the world still suffers from wants. We appear to live in a world of scarcity. Otherwise how do we account for the tendency to hoard. This miracle of multiplication teaches us one thing about benevolence, that is, God is never stingy. However, we are somewhat mechanical or sceptical. We are conditioned to want to know and explain the mechanics involved in the multiplication. This miracle confounds and we want to be able, in the eyes of our minds, to account for how a piece of fish or a piece of bread can materially multiply. In a way, our mechanical mindset becomes a mental cage because it is incapable of capturing the infinite divine initiative. Our mechanical minds tries to grasp reality from the narrow perspective of natural law. In fact, we are scientifically inclined to dismiss this miracle as a possibility because science requires repeatability.
Some even argue that this miracle was basically Christ changing the way people behave towards each other. In other words, the multiplication is more psychological manipulation rather than a physical possibility. Sadly, what is truly a supernatural act is now downgraded to merely a gesture of kindness. More than an act of wonder, the miracle highlights God’s dependability. Can we trust Him? Our rational mind likes to work things out. Somehow we need a fail-safe mechanism just in case trusting God does not work, at least we are not left hanging or flailing in the wind.
The experience of scarcity is not solved by wealth or its generation. Making money, generating wealth or promoting prosperity are amazing enterprises. The question we should be asking is, “what for?”. Clearly, the goal of a better life is not a bad proposition. The pertinent question is quantum. How much do we need in order to have a good life? The answer reflects our personal encounter with scarcity.
Have you ever consider how some people who have not, they seem to be happier and they are able to get on with life? Have you seen those who are comfortable but they are not happy? It is a paradox. We believe that scarcity can be cured by more but what abundance can create is less satisfaction. We become worried that there is not enough and worse, we are bothered by others who appear to have more.
The Gospel shows us that God can be trusted. The miracle is out of this world simply because God’s ways or methods are not ours. For a moment, refrain from the scientific curiosity of the mechanics of multiplication or even from trying to reduce God’s ability to bless us to an exercise in psychological persuasion of those who are there listening to Jesus. Then, we might be able to appreciate that God is indeed the one who looks after us and that we can never be in want when He is in charge.
When we surrender our fears to God, our need to be in control in case He fails us, then He can work miracles. When we are not chased by our wants or desires or demands, God will give us exactly what we need. The 12 baskets full of leftovers are proofs that God is generous beyond our needs. He gives us more than enough for whatever is necessary for our sustenance.
Perhaps the most important truth of the miracle of the multiplication is that it prefigures the Eucharist. It is a prelude to Christ’s greatest gift to us which is the Mass we celebrate. Two points we can consider here. The narrative itself mirrors the four Eucharistic verbs. He “took” the five loaves and two fish, raised His eyes to heaven and “said” the blessing. And “breaking” the loaves, He “handed” them to the Disciples who gave them to the crowd. There is a rhythmic sequence to the flow of the four-fold action of Christ which is replayed in Mark, Matthew and Luke’s Gospel and also in St Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians—"He took the bread, said the blessing, broke it and gave it to His Disciples”.
In a way, this four-fold action mirrors Jesus instruction to the Disciples when they presented Him with the challenge of a large crowd in the middle of nowhere and with no access to alimentary resources, “Give them something to eat yourselves”. One can interpret that Jesus is asking the Disciples to try to feed the people through whatever means they can. A comma, however, makes a world of a difference. “Give them something to eat, yourselves”. This highlights clearly the self-sacrificial nature of the Eucharistic meal. Those who follow Christ who gave His life in order that others may live, should emulate His example by the sacrifice of ourselves in order that others may have life. This is the most profound expression of generosity which God has shown us through the laying down of His life for our salvation. The multiplication of the loaves and fish is just a starter, an appetiser to the greatest act of love, the Eucharist which in turn gives us the courage to be food and strength for those who need our love and our care.
