17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

In the wake of the Enlightenment, certain Protestant exegetes, eager to present Christian belief as entirely consistent with the rationalism that had come to rule the day in Western Europe, attempted to “demythologize” the gospels. They feared that presenting Jesus as someone who worked miracles would negatively impact the credibility of the Christian faith in an age that had decided that events that didn’t obey the laws of nature were the substance of pure myth. They sought to present what they saw as a historically accurate picture of Jesus, shorn of the mythological accretions that the gospels had added in order to bolster faith and belief in Jesus. This led to a host of rational explanations being offered for ways in which the miracles of Jesus could have occurred in a manner consistent with the laws of nature.

The explanation given for the miracle we hear about in today’s gospel is particularly ingenious. I first came across it in the commentaries of an Anglican biblical scholar by the name of William Barclay. Barclay explains how Israelites living in 1st century Palestine would often carry with them food for the way when going on long journeys. This food for the way typically consisted of a few loaves of bread and some fish. The theory postulates that many of the people in the crowd of 5000 people that day would have had hidden way in their bags some food for the way. Despite their hunger, they were unwilling to bring it out because it would have meant sharing their meagre provisions with the others around them and they feared not having enough left for themselves. However, when they saw the gesture of this boy, offering up to Jesus his own lunchbox, and Jesus’ gamble by then offering it to those sitting closest to him, they were moved to start sharing their own lunchboxes and start sharing with those around them. In fact they needn’t have worried that there was not going to be enough to go around, because there actually ended up being more than enough for everyone and twelve basketfuls were left over. The true miracle was that Jesus turned a crowd of 5,000 people into a community of sharing.

To be clear, I do not subscribe at all to the principles that lie behind the attempts to demythologize the gospels. I firmly believe and hold to the fact that Jesus was a miracle worker and that this is an essential dimension of our faith as Christians. However, I am enticed by this explanation because it resonates so well with the way in which I believe God generally works in the world. God works at the very core of reality, interior to our own free will, influencing us at the level of our free will and inviting us to cooperate in God’s plan for the world. For example, I don’t think that the problem of world hunger will be solved by a wave of God’s magic wand from heaven. I think that it is far more likely that God is at work in the hearts of all men and women of goodwill to ensure that the resources and technology of our world are shared in a just and equitable manner so that all people are able to live a dignified life.

Nevertheless, I don’t think that the explanation given above for today’s gospel and the belief in Jesus’ miraculous power to multiply loaves and fishes should be mutually exclusive. Whenever I have preached on this gospel using this explanation, I have always been sure to also underline Jesus’ miraculous multiplication of loaves and fishes. To my mind, this is a story about both God’s super-abundant grace and the capacity of that grace to tear down the barriers erected by our own selfishness. To borrow a metaphor from nuclear physics, Jesus’ multiplication of loaves and fishes acted as the initiator that set off a chain reaction. In order for a nuclear reaction to occur, there needs to be an injection of neutrons at high speed that are capable of splitting atoms. This injection is known as an initiator which then sets off a chain reaction. The first atoms to be split by the injection of high speed neutrons release in their turn many more high speed neutrons, which go on and split more atoms, releasing exponentially increasing amounts of energy as time goes on. The people seeing the miracle that Jesus worked, the people who have been hiding their lunch supplies are persuaded to bring them out and share with those around them, confident that Jesus’ miracle has provided the surplus necessary to ensure that all can have their fill and no one will go hungry.

However, whenever I have preached on this text using this explanation, I have always had pushback from my listeners. They object and observe (quite rightly) that this is not what the text says. They say that my explanation does not do justice to their experience of the faith where God takes the entire initiative and provides for them in their problems, without any input from themselves. I must confess that this is not my experience of the faith, as I have always tended to believe more in a God who wishes to engender human collaboration and that the answer to our problems comes as a result of both God’s free gift of grace as well as our willingness to collaborate with that grace. Nevertheless, I have tried to take on board this criticism and take it as an invitation to move away from my default Pelagianism and grow into a more childlike faith in a God who unilaterally and miraculously makes all things wonderful.

As I reflect on this gospel story, I am struck by the absolutely central place it occupies in all of the gospels. This is only one of two gospel miracle stories that can be found in all four gospels. Mark and Matthew increase its prominence in their gospels by narrating it twice in two different contexts. For this story to have appeared no less than six times in the gospels is a testament to the profound resonance it had with them as a communities, defining something fundamental about what it means to be a Christian. The Eucharistic language of blessing and distributing the bread present in this story reflects the deep conviction of the early Christian community that it was at the table of the Lord that they primarily experienced the overflow of God’s grace. When I reflect on this story as a sign of the grace that we receive at the Eucharist, I am inclined to agree with my detractors. The super-abundance of God’s grace that we experience at the Eucharist has little to do with our own efforts. The Eucharist is the privileged place we as Christians experience God’s saving grace. It is the place that we are filled with hope, even though everything else around us might be getting us down. It is the place that we can confidently come empty-handed, knowing that Jesus will enrich our poverty.

It is also not entirely true that this gospel story totally precludes the part to be played by human agency in our salvation. For there is the important figure of the little boy who offers up to Jesus the little he has. Perhaps it is true that all that is needed for God’s Kingdom to come is that just one person be prepared to overcome their selfishness and offer up to God the little that they have. Whatever the case may be, it surely becomes us as Christians to take as our model this young boy who, undaunted by the magnitude of the problem before him, offers up the little he has and trusts that the Lord will put it to good use. Questions for reflection

1. How do I envision God’s action in the world interacting with human freewill and agency?
2. Do I get a foretaste of God’s Kingdom and God’s super-abundant grace in the Eucharist?
3. What is the little that I can offer up to God today in order that it might be transformed into the means of salvation for myself and others?