2 Kings 4:42-44; Ephesians 4:1-6; John 6:1-15.
The miraculous feeding of the five thousand is one of Jesus Christ’s best-known signs: an event so significant in his ministry that it is the only miracle to be reported – consistently in all essential details – in the four gospels.
Indeed it was a truly remarkable experience; let us not fall into the foolish error of the demythologisers who interpret it merely (and reductively) as “the miracle of sharing”: one boy’s donated packed lunch inspiring others in the crowd to share their own food. Such an interpretation is manifestly contrary to the intentions of the evangelists, all of whom unequivocally indicate that something supernatural is happening here. Why else would they mention the 12 baskets filled with leftovers? What could be the source of such lavishness if not God himself fulfilling the ancient prophecies of Messianic abundance?
That this event is a joyous announcement that God is present and active among his people is also shown by today’s first reading. The prophet Elisha also miraculously feeds a group of people; yet he had 20 barley loaves and “only” 100 people to feed. Jesus, by comparison, satisfies a much larger crowd with significantly less food. The implication is clear: he is someone far greater than Elisha!
Although in liturgical cycle B most Sunday gospels are taken from St Mark, today’s reading is from St John instead and serves as a springboard for the famous eucharistic discourse in John’s sixth chapter, which we will be meditating over the coming few Sundays.
But John’s version of the feeding of the multitude also contains a unique detail not found in the Synoptics: witnessing this miracle, the crowd hail Jesus as the prophet who is to come, the one promised by Moses in the Book of Deuteronomy. Jesus, however, recognising their intention to declare him king by force, retreats alone into the mountains.
In turning down the superficial adulation of the crowd, Jesus overcomes again (as he did during his 40 days in the desert) the temptation to achieve power and authority via spectacular shortcuts that don’t include the cross. Thus, he foreshadows the words he would say to Pontius Pilate during his passion: “My kingdom is not of this world.” His reign is other-worldly, and therefore he turns down the kingship offered by those who seek him only for free food and earthly gain.
In this way, Christ also shows himself to be markedly different from the rulers of this world. Around AD 100, the Roman poet Juvenal, in his Satire X, coined the phrase “Panem et Circenses”. Nowadays, this phrase is used to denounce those in power when they seek to numb consciences and quell popular discontent by showering their people with worldly comforts and distractions; but Juvenal wasn’t primarily referring to such policies of appeasement. Rather, he was lamenting the loss – in the heart of the populace itself – of the higher ideals of civic duty and excellence; whereas previous generations strove to defend their freedom through heroic ideals and great victories, present-day citizens settle for far baser things which leave them comfortably numb: bread and circuses.
The same challenge applies to us; what are we seeking in our religious life and practice; whether it be a mass, a religious group, private prayer or even a festa? Are we merely seeking a pleasant diversion that soothes our conscience and makes us feel good about ourselves, or are we actively inviting Christ to establish his kingdom within and around us?
In today’s second reading, St Paul reminds us of the high dignity we received in baptism as children of our heavenly Father, and calls us to pursue the higher virtues: humility, gentleness, patience, fraternal love, unity and peace.