Invited in a miracle

A reflection from Dr. Susan Fleming McGurgan


Today, we read about a miracle—a miracle of bread and fish and of hungry people, fed by the providence of God.

Scholars have long tried to explain this miracle away. Most people of that era travelled with a bit of food tucked away in their cloak or pouch; the force of Jesus’ personality inspired people to share what they had saved for themselves alone. 

This story is a metaphor for the ways God provides for his children; we are not supposed to take it literally. We don’t really KNOW what happened on that hillside, but it doesn’t really matter whether it “happened” or not, the miracle is in the telling of the story.  

It’s ironic. We trust our lives to a technology that few of us understand. We believe in microbes and nanobots we cannot even see. We sneak a good luck charm into our son’s pocket on game day, and fear mythical demons that go bump in the night….. but when it comes to Biblical miracles, we wrap our sophistication around us like a shield  and tell each other that it really “doesn’t matter” if it happened or not.

Yes, it does.

That day, on a hillside in a remote corner of the world, thousands of people were fed from five little loaves and two small fish. Despite the size of the crowd and the doubts of the disciples, and the scarcity of the fish, everyone ate and was satisfied.

That miracle of the loaves and fishes was not simply effective pastoral care, or a dramatic way to grab people’s attention.

It was nothing less than a foretaste of heaven. That impromptu meal pointed to the time when our Lord’s body would be broken and shared and his blood would be poured out for our salvation. This miracle has been repeated every time God’s people gather to celebrate the Eucharist and remember God’s mercy.

This miracle lies at the very heart of our faith. It matters what we believe.

Yet, still, we have this urge to explain it away—to make it “less than”—to tame it and explain it and cut it down to size so that we can force it to fit into our world rather than expanding ourselves to fit into God’s.  

Maybe it’s because we have been duped by snake oil salesmen far too often. Maybe it’s because our woundedness makes it hard to trust in anything, let alone a miracle involving bread and fish. 

Maybe it’s because we fail to leave space for silence and time for awe. Maybe it’s because we are afraid—afraid that if we open ourselves up to miracles, we will be forced to admit we are not in control, and never have been. 

But the truth is,  this miracle of the bread still happens every day.

It happens right here and around the corner and across the ocean and anywhere hungry people gather in His name.

The Bread that comes down from heaven continues to be broken and shared. The Blood of our salvation continues to be poured out for us all. Like the hungry people on the hillside that day in Galilee, we are invited to eat our fill full measure, packed down, overflowing.

Like the hungry people on the hillside that day in Galilee, we are, quite simply, invited into a miracle.

The Eucharist as a Call to Justice

As a final thought, the following was written by Fr. Ronald Rolheiser, OMI,  in 2009. You can find it online here in the archive of his columns. 


When the famous historian Christopher Dawson decided to become a Roman Catholic, his aristocratic mother was distressed, not because she had any aversion to Catholic dogma, but because now her son would, in her words, have to “worship with the help”. His aristocratic background would no longer set him apart from others or above anyone. At church he would be just an equal among equals because the Eucharist would strip him of his higher social status.

The Eucharist, among other things, calls us to justice, to disregard the distinction between rich and poor, noble and peasant, aristocrat and servant, both around the Eucharist table itself and afterwards outside of the church. The Eucharist fulfills what Mary prophesized when she was pregnant with Jesus, namely, that, in Jesus, the mighty would be brought down and that lowly would be raised up. It was this very thing that first drew Dorothy Day to Christianity. She noticed that, at the Eucharist, the rich and the poor knelt side by side, all equal at that moment. 

Sadly, we often don’t take this dimension of the Eucharist seriously. The challenge to reach out to the poor and to level the distinction between rich and poor is an integral and non-negotiable part of being a Christian, commanded as strongly as any of the commandments. And this challenge is contained in the Eucharist itself.

First, at the Eucharist there are to be no rich and no poor, only one equal family praying together in a common humanity. In baptism we are all made equal and for that reason there are no separate worship services for the rich and the poor. 

Secondly, because, among other things, the Eucharist commemorates Jesus’ brokenness, his poverty, his body being broken and his blood being poured out. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin expresses this aptly when he suggests that the wine offered at the Eucharist symbolizes precisely the brokenness of the poor: “In a sense the true substance to be consecrated each day is the world’s development during that day—the bread symbolizing appropriately what creation succeeds in producing, the wine (blood) what creation causes to be lost in exhaustion and suffering in the course of that effort. The Eucharist offers up the tears and blood of the poor and invites us to help alleviate the conditions that produce tears and blood.”

And we do that, as a famous church hymn says, by moving “from worship into service.” We don’t go to the Eucharist only to worship God by expressing our faith and devotion. The Eucharist is not a private devotional prayer, but is rather a communal act of worship which, among other things, calls us to go forth and live out in the world what we celebrate inside of a church, namely, the non-importance of social distinction, the special place that God gives to the tears and blood of the poor, and non-negotiable challenge from God to each of us to work at changing the conditions that cause tears and blood. The Eucharist calls us to love tenderly, but, just as strongly, it calls us to act in justice. 

To say that Eucharist calls us to justice and to social justice is not a statement that takes its origin in political correctness. It takes its origin in Jesus who, drawing upon the great prophets of old, assures us that the validity of all worship will ultimately be judged by how it affects “widows, orphans, and strangers.”


Image credit: Pexels modified with Canva, CC-0

Catholic Scholarly Views and Interpretations

In yesterday’s post several scholarly views were presented. Perhaps we can also hear from some leading Catholic scholars. Fr. Raymond E. Brown,  author of The Birth of the Messiah and An Introduction to the New Testament sees this passage not merely as a miracle but as a prefiguration of the Eucharist. Jesus feeds the multitude just as He later offers His body to the disciples at the Last Supper. “The language and structure of this account deliberately resemble the words used at the Last Supper. The verbs ‘took,’ ‘blessed,’ ‘broke,’ and ‘gave’ (v. 16) clearly echo the Eucharistic formula.” 

Luke Timothy Johnson, author of The Gospel of Luke (Sacra Pagina Series, Vol. 3) draws parallels between Jesus and Moses, suggesting that this scene demonstrates Jesus as the New Moses, guiding and providing for a new people of God in the wilderness. “The setting of a ‘deserted place’ evokes the wilderness experience of Israel, and Jesus feeding the people mirrors God’s provision of manna through Moses.”

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Feeding the People

The feeding of the five thousand had a meaning for the early church in the responsibility of the leaders to feed the flock, particularly with preaching and the Eucharist. This is the one miracle, apart from the resurrection, recounted in all four Gospels.

Luke shares the story with the other gospel writers, but his account connects the feeding to the sending of the Twelve.  Luke does not include Mark’s mention of the compassion of Jesus for the people or the messianic allusion (Mark 6:34), but the abundance of good stands as a two-fold lesion to the Twelve: abundance is found not in the power to purchase with money, but in the power of the Lord; and, those who give receive back even more extravagantly. Both lessons reinforce what they have learned on their own journey.

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Ministry and Lessons for Mission

10 When the apostles returned, they explained to him what they had done. He took them and withdrew in private to a town called Bethsaida. 11 The crowds, meanwhile, learned of this and followed him. He received them and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and he healed those who needed to be cured.

As part of the instruction for his disciples, it seems likely that Jesus wants to affirm their experience of mission and healing, as well as extend and continue the instructions as a means to prepare them for the soon-coming work of the nascent church. And the passage makes clear it was meant to form a respite and break from the missionary endeavors and make space in their life for quiet communal time with Jesus. Having participated successfully as his fellow workers in ministry, do they understand fully who Jesus is? Has their faith matured? We will see.

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The Gospel Passage in Context

Each year on the Solemnity of Corpus Christi the gospel is taken from one of the miraculous feeding of the multitudes. This year the reading is from the Gospel of Luke 9:10-17 when five loaves and two fish become the starting point for feeding more than 5,000 people.

This Lukan passage comes at a “breaking point” in the narrative of the gospel. In Luke 8, we come to a “kind of ending” of the Galilean mission. Up to and through Luke 8 the accounts have focused on Jesus – the telling of parables (sower and the seed, 8:4-15; lamp, 8:16-18) and performance of miracles (calming of the sea, 8:22-25; healing of the demoniac, 8:26-39; healing of Jairus’ daughter, 8:40-56). At the beginning of Luke 9, the Twelve are sent on mission, “He summoned the Twelve and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal (the sick)” (vv1-2). These were prophetic actions that Jesus had already given to the people and the leaders of the Jews. As the leaders began to reject Jesus, even while the outcasts began to accept him, there was a growing gap in religious leadership. And thus Jesus, already having taught his disciples the meaning of the Kingdom, now sends them to proclaim God’s reign in word and deed. We are only told of the summary of their missionary endeavors: “Then they set out and went from village to village proclaiming the good news and curing diseases everywhere.” (Luke 9:6)

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The Solemnity of Corpus Christi

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ – more popularly known as Corpus Christi, Latin for the “Body of Christ.”  – celebrates the gift of the Eucharist. From one perspective, every Sunday is a feast of the Eucharist, because by participating in the Mass, and in receiving Communion, we are honoring and celebrating the Eucharist. Still, the celebration of Corpus Christi has its own history.

In the Catholic Church in the West, since the liturgical reforms of Vatican II, Corpus Christi is celebrated as a solemnity on the Sunday following the Most Holy Trinity Sunday (the Sunday following Pentecost). At its core the solemnity is a celebration of the Tradition and belief in the Eucharist as the Real Presence of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. For millennia, such a theme was part of the celebration of Holy Thursday, but then there are other important themes that are part of that celebration (models of Christian service, priestly ordination, and more). And, all this occurs in the shadow of Good Friday. The multiplicity of themes and the shadow of Good Friday and the Passion do not lend the Eucharistic celebration of Holy Thursday a joyful patina. 

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A Masterclass in Faith

Back in the day when I served in a slum parish on the edge of Nairobi. Over the course of several encounters I came to know a Mill Hill priest, Fr. John Kaiser. Fr. John was a missionary legend. Originally from Minnesota, he had a Paul Bunyan like quality to him – larger than life. By the time I met him he had been serving in Kenya for 30 plus years. One day he randomly showed up at the parish where I worked and asked me if I wanted to go with him on a trip “into the bush” to visit a group of semi-nomadic Maasai to whom he had been ministering for many years. By “into the bush” he meant the Transmara, the name for the Serengetti on the Kenyan side of the border. Instantly I imagined an exotic safari, an “Out of Africa” moment, … I mean, this was what it meant to be a missionary! Continue reading

The Promise

This coming Sunday, The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.  Jesus’ words of promise were confirmed with a solemn oath that he would not share the cup until the meal was resumed and completed in the consummation: “Amen, I say to you, I shall not drink again the fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” (Mark 14:25) The sober reference “not .. again” indicates that this is Jesus’ final meal and adds a sense of a farewell. Continue reading

The Institution of the Eucharist

This coming Sunday, The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.  The interpretation of detailed elements in the meal was a fixed part of the Passover liturgy conducted by the head of the household. This occurred after the meal had been served but before it was eaten. When Jesus lifted the platter of unleavened bread he may be presumed to have spoken the Aramaic formula prescribed in the liturgy: “This is the bread of affliction which our fathers ate in the land of Egypt. Let everyone who hungers come and eat; let everyone who is needy come and eat the Passover meal.” Each of the other elements was also introduced in the context of Israel’s experience in bondage. The bitter herbs served to recall the bitterness of slavery, the stewed fruit, which possessed the consistency and color of clay, evoked the making of bricks as slaves, while the paschal lamb provided a reminder of God’s gracious “passing over” of Israel in the plague of death that came to Egypt. While the wording of Jesus’ paschal devotions has not been preserved, it is evident that the disciples were prepared for understanding the significance of the words of institution preserved in verses 22–24 by the manner in which Jesus interpreted the components of the meal. Continue reading