Gospel: Matthew 14:13–21

Theme: God’s generosity and ours

Matthew 14:13–21

The Return of the Twelve and the Feeding of the Five Thousand

When Jesus heard of it, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself. The crowds heard of this and followed him on foot from their towns. When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick.

When it was evening, the disciples approached him and said, “This is a deserted place and it is already late; dismiss the crowds so that they can go to the villages and buy food for themselves.”

[Jesus] said to them, “There is no need for them to go away; give them some food yourselves.”

But they said to him, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have here.”

Then he said, “Bring them here to me,” and he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds.

They all ate and were satisfied, and they picked up the fragments left over—twelve wicker baskets full. Those who ate were about five thousand men, not counting women and children.

Music Meditations

Ubi Caritas-Taize
Table of Plenty—John Michael Talbot
Come to the Water—Chapel Choir
Five Loaves and Two Fishes—Corinne May
One Bread, One Body—John Michael Talbot

Companions for the Journey

from "First Impressions", a service of the Southern Dominican Province:

A few years back I preached in a city where there was a soup kitchen for street people run by three Catholic sisters. Well, it wasn’t a soup kitchen exactly—it was more like a restaurant. The “guests” were greeted at the door by church volunteers and shown to tables with tablecloths and given a menu. The fare was limited, but they had a choice of “entrees” from which they could choose. There are quicker and more efficient ways to feed the hungry, especially these days with so many homeless and hungry on our streets. Food pantries and soup kitchens can barely keep up with those who come seeking food and clothing. The current numbers of the hungry are increasing and the charitable collections of food and clothing are just not enough to meet the urgent needs. But still, that special soup kitchen, with its parish volunteers and special “guests” stays with me as a wonderful sign of what the scriptures reveal today about the food and drink we are promised at God’s table—where we will be treated as honored guests and where no one will lack food and clothing. That’s a promise we can bank on. Are we believers all just dreamers? Considering the plight of so many poor, homeless and victimized in the world, who has the audacity to promise anything better in the future when things are so very bad now?

That’s how it always is with God. When we are at our lowest point, in one exile of our own making, or another, a special delivery letter comes to invite us back home, where a meal is waiting us. The invitation reads, “I don’t care what you have done, come on home! Let me supply the nourishment you have desired and searched for in all the wrong places. I have what you really need and I want to give it to you free of charge. For heaven’s sake, forget the past, we have a future together!” Here in the southern U.S. we might word the invitation differently: “Y’all come! Set yourself down. Eat. Hear?”

In Jesus, God has sent out another similar invitation to special guests to come, sit down, eat and drink. The multiplication of the loaves and fish is a spectacular miracle. But it starts very small and among seeming-insignificant people. Which is where God usually starts a good work, so that the people can’t claim any success was based just on their skills and merits. God is at work here. It is God’s idea to feed the least and it is God who makes it possible to do it. Nevertheless, as we learn from Matthew’s account, people do have a part to play; though it does seem small by the world’s ways of measuring. The disciples understand their situation: the crowd is large and they have next to nothing to give to address the people’s hunger. “Five loaves and two fish are all we have here.” They may have practically nothing to offer, but at least they “heed” what Jesus says and offer up what little they do have. They could have looked to their own needs and saved the few loaves and fish for themselves. That would have been the prudent thing to do. But the crowd was hungry, they had to be fed and the disciples put what little they had to feed them completely into Jesus’ hands. There are times when we just have to throw our whole lot in with the Lord; take a chance on him; join him in his sometimes reckless project. We provide the best we can to do God’s work and, instead of standing far off to see how we do, God rolls up the sleeves and gets to work with us. We have got to trust that—otherwise, we would never set about to address the huge issues we face in our world, like hunger, racism, war, injustice, violence, disease, social inequalities, etc. We do what we can, even though it feels puny to us and appears insignificant by the world’s standards of measurement. We hand over what we have to Christ who invites, “Bring them here to me” and we see what he does with our offerings.

We pray that the Spirit come upon us who gather to “heed” God’s Word so we will be guided and empowered in Christ’s service. May the “loaves and fish” of our daily lives feed those hungry Christ sends us into the world to feed.

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

“There is no need for them to go away; give them some food yourselves.”

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

Jesus fled the crowds to deal with his grief, but the crowds followed him. Have I ever had to put my needs aside for someone with a greater need? Is this always healthy?
Has there been a time in my life when I was sorrowful or troubled, but went out of my way to help someone else?
How is sharing a meal a way to enhance community?
Jesus fed the five thousand through the agency of his disciples. In what way is Jesus expecting me to be an agent for his message/mission?
The world of the disciples was one that had significant inequalities concerning food access. We, surprisingly, have not been able to fix the problem in almost two centuries.
Do I believe that the problems of society are too large for us to handle?
Do I feel discouraged?
This miracle required the cooperation and the generosity of those who gave what little they had: how often do I approach life and my own obligation to others in need through a mentality of scarcity, worried that I might not have enough?
A priest I know said that there is enough for everybody if everybody shared when they had more than they needed; where in my life are there opportunities to “share my food” with those in need?
In what way does my Church mirror this practice? Where can it do better?
Has there ever been a time in my life when someone helped me in a time of need?
Was I grateful? Did I express my gratitude? Did I pay it forward?
Do I really trust in God’s goodness and generosity? Why or why not?
Do I ever doubt that God will want to meet my needs? Why do I think this?
Do I need to pray for the trust to “sit down” in a time of crisis and give it to God?
Do I ever think my insignificance, or lack of education, or lack of money exempt me from service? What about the original disciples? What about Mother Teresa?
This story shows up in all four gospels because of its obvious connection to the Eucharist celebration. Do I view the Eucharist as basic food for my very life?
What hunger do I bring to the Eucharistic celebration that I turn to Jesus to feed?
What hunger in the world am I hearing about that I am being called to address—with God’s help?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Relationship:

Read today’s selection from Romans 8 slowly and solemnly:

What will separate us from the love of Christ?
Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword?
No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us.
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers,
nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Then rewrite these words, speaking them to Christ (e.g.: “What will separate me from your love?”) Pray this prayer several times this week, reflecting on your personal relationship with Jesus. How does it affect you?

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Social Justice:

Read the first part of Matthew 14, which describes the banquet thrown for Herod on his birthday, and how that turned out in the end. Contrast that with the story of the feeding of the five thousand, and, finally, Read Matthew 25: 35–41. (Lord, when did I see you hungry, etc.) Reflect on the various segments of our current society reflected in the three passages. Which people in our current world fit into one of these categories Jesus is describing in Matthew 25? Do you find it difficult to see Christ in those around you? Which group annoys you the most? Why? How do you reconcile Jesus’ teaching on this question of justice, need, and personal responsibility with the Church’s social teaching? With this country’s policies? With your own attitudes and actions? Then read James 2:1–9 (Do not make class distinctions). Think of all the ways in which we categorize people. Why is this common? Why is it wrong?

Poetic Reflection:

Through the stories and reflections in her book My Name is CHILD of GOD, and Not “Those People”, Julia Dinsmore puts a face on poverty and challenges readers to answer God’s call to respond to poverty and its effects, to feed the bodies and very souls of those “five thousand” who have little or nothing:

My name is not “Those People.”
I am a loving woman,
a mother in pain, giving birth to the future,
where my babies have the same chance to thrive as anyone.

My name is not “Inadequate.”
I did not make my husband leave—he chose to,
and chooses not to pay child support.
Truth is though, there isn’t a job base for all
fathers to support their families.
While society turns its head, my children pay the price.

My name is not “Problem and Case to Be Managed.”
I am a capable human being and citizen, not a client.
The social service system can never replace the compassion
and concern of loving Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Fathers,
Cousins, Community—all the bonded people who need to be
but are not present to bring children forward to their potential.

My name is not “Lazy, Dependent Welfare Mother.”
If the unwaged work of parenting, homemaking and community building
was factored into the Gross National Product, my work would have untold value.
And I wonder why my middle-class sisters whose husbands support them to raise their children
are glorified—and they don’t get called lazy and dependent.

My name is not “Ignorant, Dumb or Uneducated.”
I live with an income of $621 with $169 in food stamps.
Rent is $585. that leaves $36 a month to live on.
I am such a genius at surviving that I could balance the state budget in an hour.
Never mind that there is a lack of living-wage jobs.
Never mind that it is impossible to be the sole emotional, social and economic support to a family.
Never mind that parents are losing their children
to the gangs, drugs, stealing, prostitution, social workers, kidnapping, the streets, the predator.
Forget about putting money into schools—just build more prisons.

My name is not “Lay Down and Die Quietly.”
My love is powerful and my urge to keep my children alive will never stop.
All children need homes and people who love them.
They need safety and the chance to be the people they were born to be.
The wind will stop before I let my children become a statistic.
Before you give in to the urge to blame me,
the blames that lets us go blind and unknowing into
the isolation that disconnects us, take another look.
Don’t go away.

For I am not the problem, but the solution.

And…My name is not “Those People.”

Weekly Reflections

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time, August 2, 2020