Category: The Church Year

We are taking a bit of an excursus or diversion here for the next few Sundays. You may know that throughout this Church year, we have been reading from the Gospel of Mark. Well, for the next several Sundays (with the exception of next Sunday because it is a special feast), we are reading from the Gospel of John. We are reading a very important part of John's Gospel at that: it is the sixth chapter, known as the Bread of Life Discourse. In this chapter, John shows us how Jesus is Eucharist for us. Today we begin with a familiar story: the feeding of the multitudes.

Someone once explained this miracle to me by saying that it happened because people were moved by Jesus' preaching and works among them, so in response, they took food they had with them and shared them with one another. As the food was passed around and the remnants were gathered up, it turned out they had enough to feed everyone after all – and then some. This wonderful story, they told me, showed the power of sharing in response to the work of God in our lives.

That's a lovely explanation, isn't it? Too bad it's garbage.

Yes, garbage. It's garbage for a few reasons. First, if that's the way it happened, why didn't the evangelists record it that way? This miracle has the distinction of being recorded in all four Gospels. One would think that if this had been a miracle about sharing, one of them would have reported it as such. But they didn't. Maybe you're thinking that the Gospel authors wouldn't have reported it that way because it would be embarrassing to Jesus. But that doesn't work either, because they reported embarrassing things about Jesus all the time. Just a few weeks ago, we read how Jesus could not accomplish any miracle in his home town. That was sure embarrassing. So I'm thinking that if the miracle turned out to be a case of wonderful sharing, that's how the story would have been told.

Another reason this explanation doesn't work is that it misses the point entirely. The sharing explanation seems to take the power out of Jesus' hands and put it in the hands of the crowd. We like that kind of explanation in our culture, because we want it to be about us. We want to feel in control, to feel that we have the power to fix our problems and handle our own lives. But the truth is that we are not in control: all we have are five barley loaves and two fish, and that seems woefully inadequate to address the incredible needs we and our contemporaries have every day. The whole point of this story is that we can't address all our hungers, but Jesus absolutely can do so, and because of that the story of sharing does not make much sense at all.

The real explanation here is that Jesus took five barley loaves and two fish, and passed them around, and they became enough to feed thousands. We believe in miracles, brothers and sisters in Christ, and a miracle is exactly what we believe happened here. And it wasn't a miracle of human making, it was a miracle of Jesus' power at work in the world which addressed a need that Jesus noticed, made up for human inadequacies, and fed the crowd more wonderfully than they could ever have imagined.

First of all, Jesus notices a need. He sees that the people are coming to him, clamoring after his healing miracles and the words he has been preaching. They recognize he is someone special, someone they want to hear more of, and they follow him without any thought for their own comfort. And so Jesus notices that they are hungry. Now let's just stop for a minute and acknowledge that there are probably two kinds of hunger going on here: certainly physical hunger, since they have not eaten, but also a spiritual hunger. A hunger for eternal life that will only ever be fulfilled in God himself. Jesus here intends to feed them in both ways.

Second, Jesus makes up for our inadequacies. Having seen the need, he asks Philip to arrange to feed them. Philip falls for it, hook, line and sinker. "Two hundred days' wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little." Philip says there is no way they could take care of the physical hunger of the crowd, and with his response, betrays that he is also quite unprepared to take care of their spiritual hunger. But Jesus takes them where they are at. Andrew offers the five loaves and two fish that come from one of the boys in the crowd. That's all they can find. We should note that barley loaves are particularly inadequate since they were considered the bread of the poor. But even with that little, poor bread, Jesus feeds the great crowd. So little food is obviously inadequate for the hunger of so many, but Jesus uses it and makes up for the lack, feeding the people and satisfying their every hunger.

Third, Jesus feeds the crowd more wonderfully than they could have ever imagined. John's Gospel is filled with images of superabundance: huge jugs of water made into incredible wine at Cana, and now five loaves and two fish that feed a large crowd, and provide twelve wicker baskets of leftovers. Jesus takes care of every need with overwhelming power. He does not just provide a little afternoon snack; he provides a glorious meal, feeding crowds of people with bounty and grace. Indeed this is a miracle of Jesus our God taking notice of our needs, filling up our lack, and feeding us with superabundance. This is no simple sharing ritual, but a gracious act of God in our world to make his presence and care for his people known.

What is important here is that we need to know that this kind of thing goes on all the time, even in our own day. Jesus always notices the needs and hungers of his people. Perhaps you have seen a need in your community, maybe a family who is in need, or a whole segment of the population not served in some way. You need to know that you noticed that because of the spirit of Jesus working in you. It's very easy to go through life noticing nothing and no one, but that doesn't happen in disciples. Disciples are the ears and eyes of Jesus, and he notices the needs of his people through us every day. Now, having noticed a need, we may very well feel inadequate to fill it. What good is our few hours of time or few dollars going to do for such a huge need? How can our imperfect talents make up for such a need? Here we have to trust that Jesus will do with our imperfect offerings as he did with the five loaves and two fish. Jesus makes up for our lack, and we can take comfort in that. If we are faithful to respond to the need with what we have, we can be sure that Jesus will use what we have to feed our hungry world with superabundance.

We can do that because Jesus feeds us all the time. Every time we come to the Table of the Lord, we are given a little bit of bread and a sip of wine that has become the Body and Blood of Christ our Savior. At every Eucharist, we are fed more wonderfully and superabundantly than even the crowd in today's Gospel. We are fed with food that will never pass away or perish, we are fed with the Bread of Eternal life. Since we disciples have that gift at our disposal, we would do well to bring ourselves to it as often as we can, and as well-disposed for it as we can. We must make it our constant care to attend Mass every week, and even during the week if we can, and to use the Sacrament of Penance to prepare ourselves to receive the grace of the Eucharist. Disciples who regularly and faithfully feed themselves with the Bread of Life will find it natural to offer their meager gifts to feed great hungers in our world, hungers that our God longs to fill.

And so we gratefully come to the Eucharist today, to take part in a meal even more wonderful than the feeding of the multitudes, and partake of a bread far more nourishing than barley loaves. We come to the Eucharist today to have all of our hungers fed, and to take baskets of leftovers to feed those who hunger in and around us this week. We pray for the grace to notice the needs of others and
the grace to offer what we have to serve the poor, trusting in God to make up for what we lack. We pray the words of the psalmist with trust and gratitude: "The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs."

Today's readings

"Can you drink the chalice that I am going to drink?"

Yesterday, I attended the funeral of a family friend. He was just 37 years old, had six children; two of them with special needs. It was probably one of the longest funerals I had ever been to, and certainly one of the most memorable. Rob was a police officer, and there were probably 150 or so officers in attendance from his department and several other departments throughout the suburbs. But that was nothing compared to three times that many sitting in the body of the church. Rob had been a part of the church, active in youth ministry when he was in high school, and was in my parents' religious education class in his freshman year. He was involved in several community projects, as well as the Special Olympics. He was a very giving and loving young man, and he will be missed.

One of my memories of him was just last year at this time, when I was working as a hospital chaplain at Good Samaritan in Downers Grove. One Sunday morning, we had a terrible accidental death that came in, and the family members were feuding about it, accusing one another of causing the death. I had been running back and forth between the two groups, and finally I was told the detective was here, and the family was with him. I went in to check on them, and noticed that the detective was Rob, who had the family calmed down – much more than their chaplain had been able to do – and the situation was finally under control for the moment. He had the ability to do that, and many will miss that about him.

Rob found out six months ago that he had stage four cancer and would not have long to live. I am told he lived his last months with great beauty, continuing to love his family and respect those who cared for him. I think Rob knew what St. Paul said to the Corinthians in today's first reading:

We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained;
perplexed, but not driven to despair;
persecuted, but not abandoned;
struck down, but not destroyed;
always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus,
so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our body.
For we who live are constantly being given up to death
for the sake of Jesus,
so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh.

Like St. James and his brother John, we are all called to drink from the chalice which Jesus drank. That means that we will always bear the dying of Jesus in our own bodies. We can't explain why bad things happen to good people, but we can explain how good people handle bad situations well: they handle it well because they know Christ and live in Christ every day of their lives. Sometimes the chalice we will have to drink will be unpleasant, distasteful and full of sorrow. But with God's grace, our drinking of those cups can be a sacrament of the presence of God in the world.

Everyone who is great among us must be a servant, and whoever wishes to be first among us must be our slave. Rob knew how to do that and be joyful in it. May we all be that same kind of sacrament for the world.

Today’s readings

I don’t know how you feel about being compared to sheep without a shepherd, but I have to tell you, I’m not all that flattered by it! Yet there’s some painful truth to that statement, and some rather beautiful truth as well. Because we do need leaders, those who will walk before us to show us the right way in the world, and even the right way to the world yet to come. I don’t think the problem is a lack of shepherds. There are many voices out there from which to choose. The problem is, which voices are trustworthy? Who do we listen to; who do we follow?

Many people prefer to listen to nobody. They want to do their own thing, make their own way, to be independent, free spirits. Our American culture tends to herald those folks and applaud their pioneer spirit. But the problem with that philosophy is that it only goes so far. At some point the freest spirits out there need to look at other free spirits and independent thinkers so that they can fashion their way of life. Nobody has ever made their way through life before, and the only way any of us can do it is to look to someone else. So even the most independent of us has to get his or her ideas from someone else. While they may prefer to listen to nobody, they do in fact listen to somebody, and then we’re back at the question we started with: who do we listen to?

Jeremiah prophesies woe to the false prophets:

You have scattered my sheep and driven them away.
You have not cared for them,
but I will take care to punish your evil deeds.
I myself will gather the remnant of my flock…

Jeremiah’s problem is with the leaders of the people, the monarchy. Not only have they neglected the people of God – the people they were supposedly chosen to serve – but they have also misled them, causing them to be scattered into Exile. Since they could not be counted on to lead people to God, then God himself would be the one to remedy the situation. God would punish these leaders, and gather up his lost children under the leadership of the one true shepherd.

Would that the false prophets had disappeared after Jeremiah’s prophecy. Unfortunately, I think, we still have plenty around today, and we have to take care to discern them in our midst. So many will flock to the latest self-help book or program, or will model their life and philosophy after the likes of Oprah, Dr. Phil or – God help us – Martha Stewart. And as interesting as they may be, we must be very careful not to swallow their philosophies whole and entire. Because their concern is not that you would have eternal life; their concern is that you would watch their shows and buy from their advertisers. I’m not trying to tell you not to watch their television shows … well, that’s not entirely true, maybe I am. What I do want you to hear though is that these folks are not the true shepherds that Jeremiah foretells. If you want a voice to lead you in life, you’re going to have to look somewhere else.

Thankfully, God has made good on his promise to send a true shepherd, and that would be Jesus Christ. This Jesus who sent his apostles out on mission in last week’s Gospel, now gathers them together and invites them to take time away. But, as so often happens in Mark’s Gospel, this time away is interrupted by pastoral need. Before they ever reach the deserted, out-of-the-way place Jesus called them to, the people are there looking for them. Maybe they were the recipients of the Apostles’ ministry as they were sent out two-by-two last week. Or maybe they have just heard the amazing news about the things Jesus did – or maybe a little of both. Whatever the case, they came hungering for more, and Jesus takes pity on them.

This word “pity” has many negative connotations in our culture. Pity reeks of insincerity or superiority or condescension, and when we hear that word or use it, I think we kind of recoil a bit. But that’s not what is happening here when Jesus pities the crowds. The Greek word that we translate “pity” here is splanchnizomai. Now I’m not a Greek scholar, so there are two reasons I bring this up. First is that I like to say splanchnizomai – it’s kind of fun, and I know you’ll all be using it at your next cocktail party. But my second – and more serious – reason is that splanchnizomai is an example of onomatopoeia: it sounds like what it is. It has kind of a deep, guttural sound, and that’s kind of what it means. Splanchnizomai is a kind of pity that causes a reaction deep inside; it’s a strong concern that cannot help but translate into action. It’s a kind of pity that has none of the superiority, insincerity or condescension we hear in our word; it’s a pity that evolves into care and blessing. It’s such a strong term that Mark only uses it in his Gospel to refer to Jesus, or coming from the mouth of Jesus.

This reaction of care and blessing answers the question of who exactly is the true shepherd. We cannot possibly miss it from today’s Scripture readings. If the monarchy of Jeremiah’s time had abandoned and misled the people, then Jesus in his time was all about bringing people back together and leading them to the Father. In another place, Jesus says that he is the way, the truth and the life, and the only way to the Father. He is the shepherd that the people have been longing for, all the way back to Jeremiah’s day and before.

Back in our own day, we have to come to see Jesus as our true shepherd also. We too, are like sheep without a shepherd at times. We have all sorts of trials in our lives. We struggle with finding the right spouse for marriage. We debate the best ways to raise our children. We agonize over the best neighborhoods in which to live and the choice of a school in which to educate our children. We struggle with the illness or death of those we love. We have problems at work, or lose a job. Life can often be uncertain at best, and we need direction to follow the right way. The good news is that Jesus has splanchnizomai for us too. He longs to gather us up, to teach us “many things,” and to lead us home to the Father. That’s the way it was always supposed to work in the first place.

The problem is that we are not exactly like sheep, are we? We have our own wills and we tend often to ignore the voice that’s leading us in the right direction. It’s long past time that we all followed Jesus to a deserted, out-of-the-way place and put our complete trust in his love and guidance. We might not be able to take a week-long retreat or find a desert in which to come to Jesus. But we can come here to Church, maybe more than just on Saturday or Sunday. We have available the great gift of daily Mass, and a church building that is open early in the morning until late in the evening. We have the Sacrament of Reconciliation to help us to come back to Jesus and to receive the Church’s direction in our troubles. We have the Blessed Sacrament in our Tabernacle in the Chapel where we can pray and actually be in the physical presence of our Lord. Brothers and sisters in Christ, this parish church is our out-of-the-way place. This is the place where we can steal away even for just a few minutes in our hectic day and be one with the Lord. And even if we cannot come to church on a given day, maybe we can find the space in our homes to close the door and be alone with Jesus for a few minutes.

The important piece is that Jesus is our true shepherd. He is the only voice that has the splanchnizomai to lead us in the right direction, which is home to the Father. We must hear this and turn to Christ our shepherd with the words of the psalmist today: “My shepherd is the Lord; nothing indeed shall I want.”

Today's readings

One of my professors in seminary would often tell us that, because we had made a commitment to follow God's call, the devil would do everything possible to get us to change our mind. One of the devil's tricks would be to make us feel completely unworthy of the call, so much so that we'd abandon it. He cautioned that, the closer we got to ordination, the more intense that feeling would become. And boy, was he right! Weeks before the ordination, all of the sins of my life, along with all of my personal inadequacies and weaknesses, came to light before me in splendid fashion. I often felt so unworthy of answering the call that I wondered if I was making a huge mistake.

And the truth is, I am unworthy of the call. Looking around at my classmates, that was true of all of us. Some of us would be more willing to admit that than others, but it was really true. The truth is that none of us is ever really worthy of doing God's work, because none of us is perfect, and nobody is holy enough to stand in the place of God. Yet that was what we were called to do. Whether or not we had ever sinned, whatever our gifts or talents were, wherever we had failings or inadequacies, none of that mattered. Why? Because it's not about us.

Over the last couple of weeks, we have been able to take a look at the various people who have been called to ministry throughout history. Last week, Ezekiel was told that whatever he did, his ministry would be mostly unsuccessful. Paul, the great teacher of our faith, was afflicted with a "thorn in the flesh" – whatever that was – and no amount of prayer could get it to go away. In today's first reading, Amos, who is told that he is not welcome to prophesy in Israel, confesses that he is nothing but a simple shepherd and dresser of sycamores – completely ill-qualified for the role of a prophet, but nonetheless called to be one. In today's Gospel, the Twelve are sent out on mission to do the works that Christ himself did, and they were only to take with them the knowledge of Jesus' teachings and their memory of what he had done among them. They were simple men, called from their simple lives, not one of them qualified for the role they were to play, with the possible exception of Judas, and we know what happened to him, don't we?

The point is, that it's not about who we are or who we know or how slick our presentation is. It's not about what we have in our bag of tricks, or how much stuff we have. It's not about how developed we may think our faith life is, or how much we've studied theology. Because it's not about us at all.

We can depend on this: the Word of the Lord will continue to be proclaimed. Prophesy will still be spoken. Repentance will be preached, and all will know that the Kingdom of God is at hand. Demons will be driven out. And many who are sick will be anointed with oil and cured in the name of the Lord. And there isn't anything we underqualified, ill-prepared, flawed human beings can do to stop it. God will still use us despite our failings, and often enough even despite our own attempts to stay out of it.

I know many people, who when asked if they would become involved in some ministry or another, would say, "Oh, no, I could never do that. I'm not qualified to do it." There are people who always feel that others could do the job better than they can, and so others should do it and they should stay out of it. But if we are to learn anything from the Scriptures today, we must hear that that kind of thinking is nothing but false humility. And false humility is absolutely not virtuous! Sometimes when others call us to do something, perhaps they see something in us that we can't see, or perhaps they may see God working in us in ways we don't fully appreciate. I'm not saying we have to say "yes" to everything we're asked to do, but I am saying that we must always prayerfully consider every opportunity, and then do what the Lord wants us to do.

When I was in seminary, one of the things I heard about some of the guys doing was acting as fire chaplains. They would be on call with the fire department and would help them reach out to people in the midst of emergencies and crises. That kind of thing scared the life out of me, and I thought "I'll never be able to do anything like that." Well, of course, a couple of years later, I was asked to become a fire chaplain. My first response was, "oh no, I could never do that." My friend who asked me to do it asked me to at least pray about it, which I agreed to do. And when I did pray about it, my answer from God was that of course I couldn't do it by myself, but it wasn't about me. So I became a fire chaplain despite my promise that I would never do so, and I worked with folks whose house was burning down, or whose children had committed suicide, or whose loved ones died in an accident. I ministered to the fire and paramedic personnel who had been through some difficult times. And I was always glad I was there, letting God use me to do things I could never do myself.

So in what ways have you been called? In today's Gospel, Jesus sends his chosen Twelve out on mission. They were chosen not for their spectacular abilities or any particular quality. But they were chosen, called and gifted to do the work of God in the world. So are we all. Just as the Twelve were sent out to preach repentance, dispel demons, and cure the sick, we too are called to do those very same things.

You may not think of yourself as a preacher. But you are prophetic and a preacher of repentance when you forgive a hurt or wrong, when you confess your sins and make necessary changes in your life, when you become a member of a 12-step group to deal with an addiction, or when you leave a lucrative job with a company whose business practices make you feel uncomfortable. You are a preacher of repentance when you correct poor behavior in your children rather than place the blame on the teacher or school. You are a preacher of repentance when you accept constructive criticism in a spirit of humility and pray for the grace to change your life. Preaching repentance very often does not involve words so much as actions, and we can all do that.

Who are you to drive out demons? How is that even possible? But I am here to tell you that volunteering as a catechist or a mentor in a school or a homework helper is a way to drive out the demons of ignorance. Going to a Protecting God's Children workshop so that children in our schools and religious educations programs will be safe is a way to drive out the demons of abuse. When you speak out to protect the environment, you help to drive out the demons of neglect and waste. Volunteering to be part of a pro-life group helps to drive out the demons of death and promote a culture of life, protecting the unborn and the aged and infirm. Working at a soup kitchen or food pantry drives out the demons of hunger and poverty. Helping at shelters for battered families drives out the demons of violence and isolation. The demons at work in our world are legion, and every one of us is called to drive them out, not like "The Exorcist," but more by our simple time and talent according to our gifts.

How is it possible for you to cure the sick? You anoint the sick every time you remember them in prayer, or visit them in the hospital or at home. You anoint the sick when you volunteer as a minister of care. You anoint the sick when you bring a casserole to provide dinner for a family who are so busy with sick relatives that they have little time to prepare a meal. You anoint the sick when you drive an elderly friend or neighbor to a doctor's appointment or to do the grocery shopping, or pick them up on the way to Mass. Heal
ing involves so much more than just making a disease or injury go away, and all of us can be a part of healing in so many everyday ways.

We absolutely must get from today's Scriptures that God calls everyday people to minister to others in everyday ways. If people are to know about God's Kingdom, we have to be the ones to proclaim it. If people are to reform their lives, we have to be the ones to model repentance. If people are to be released from their demons, we have to be the ones to drive them out. And if people are to be healed from their infirmities, it is all of us who have to reach out to them with the healing power of Christ. We who are called to live as disciples do not have the luxury of indulging ourselves in misplaced false humility. If we and our families and our communities are to grow in faith, hope and love, we have to be the ones to show the way and encourage as many people as possible to walk in that way.

Saint Paul makes our vocation very clear in today's second reading:

In him we were also chosen,
destined in accord with the purpose of the One
who accomplishes all things according to the intention of his will,
so that we might exist for the praise of his glory,
we who first hoped in Christ.

It's not about us. We who first hoped in Christ exist for the praise of his glory. Let it be then that we in the everyday-ness of our lives would have the courage to preach repentance, drive out demons and heal the sick.