This past week, a crowd of 50 thousand Catholics attended the Eucharistic Renewal Conference in Indianapolis.  Appropriately, the Sunday’s gospel gave us a special “take” on Eucharist that tends to get obscured when hearing the institution narrative at each Mass (i.e., “Jesus took the bread, blest it . . . saying ‘Take this’” and “He took the chalice . . .”).  John’s gospel has no such “last supper” scene.  But John’s gospel this weekend is just as solidly Eucharistic as the other accounts.

Instead of the Last Supper’s ritual context, John gives us the story of 5000 hungry men gathered on a hill at the time of Passover.   John’s account echoes the first reading that told of how 20 men were miraculously fed when it seemed there wasn’t enough food to go around.  John’s crowd, however, was much larger—and Jesus saw to it that they were fed.

While we’re accustomed to hearing the words of consecration at Mass, this scene from John’s Gospel reminds us that the Eucharist is intended to feed us outside liturgical contexts as well.  We can gather anywhere and confess that we need to rely on nourishment that can come to us in social interaction (as when the crowd of 5 thousand experienced Him in a secular gathering).

Did you notice where this event took place?  Our old friend, the mountain once again signaled to us that something special was to take place!  God was about to make an appearance in some miraculous way.  John’s account no doubt reminded people of what we read in 2 Kings when others were miraculously fed.  Only this time, the crowd was much larger—and Jesus eclipsed the Old Testament’s wondrous event.

John didn’t need to report the Eucharist’s institution narrative that told how and when Jesus gave us the sacrament (i.e., “On the night before he died, he took bread . . . “).  John didn’t need to repeat what the other evangelists said because he referred to people “reclining” (a clear association with the early Christian custom of “reclining” at their Eucharistic gatherings). 

Just as the Last Supper accounts are associated with the season of Passover, so John states that the feeding of the multitude took place during Passover!  He is reporting the same reality, but it is taking place outdoors—not restricted to apostles only, but in the midst of 5000 men.  In this instance, the Eucharistic assembly is on a mountainside.  It draws people together where they are fed by the Master.  The same theological idea is thus presented to us in two different ways. 

Some might not like hearing scripture note that “men” were gathered, and that no reference is made to the presence of women.  Not referring to women is not translated in a broader way because the first century reality of gatherings would see men alone gather in numbers this large.  Mixing of the sexes did not occur in Israelite tribal society.  This tribal custom of men in one place and women in another was not unique to New Testament times.

Cultures globally have all sorts of behavioral rules about men and women mixing or not mixing in public or private.  For example, many groups have women’s quarters and men’s quarters—husbands and wives NOT bedding down together as is the custom in our American world.

I was reminded of teaching at Pine Ridge.  We’d have a high school dance, and girls would sit along the wall on one side of the gym and guys on the other side.  It’s just the way social life occurred—people dancing in the center if they wished to do so, and a few boys/girls talking—but a division quite visible.

A boy in the crowd is said to have carried with him a couple of fish.  This reference to fish is not just some arbitrary food that could have just as well been hot dogs (had they existed back then).  Rather, the Greek word for fish is “icthus” and that word was an acronym for early Christians.  Namely, “fish” (in Greek letters) stood for “Jesus Christ Son of God Savior.”  So the story about feeding an enormous population (the world?) with bread and fish is a lesson in Eucharistic theology.  The bread and fish (preserved in wine) symbolize the presence of the risen Lord in the breaking of bread Christian sacrament.  And the Eucharist is for Christians a new Passover meal, a new Moses saving the people, and a new Lamb of God.  If all this didn’t ring a bell for you, maybe you noticed how the story says that Jesus “took the bread, broke it, and passed it to all present.”  Sound familiar?  You hear those words at every Mass.

Hmm.  What more might be found in these verses?  Aha! 12 wicker baskets of bread fragments were left over.  Might that conjure up thoughts of the 12 tribes of Israel being fed by this Messiah?  And not only them, but others, too—since so much was left over.  Even enough to feed 12 new apostles perhaps?  You get the point.  This story is more than just a miraculous picnic meal in a mountain meadow.

On a nuts and bolts level, one need not connect all the dots of the above when they might simply benefit from this often told lesson.  Perhaps the presence of Jesus and the apostles was enough to inspire the boy, and others, to pull out what they carried with them—and share their food with others.  After all, the point of the Eucharist is for us to share our time, talent, and treasure with others.  Perhaps that’s the incident’s key message.

Or might the story’s point be addressing an aspect of our lives that raised its head in the time of Jesus, and in our own time.  That is, last week reminded us of the compassion Jesus felt toward those who were “like sheep without a shepherd.”  And this week, he again has pity on the people and wants to feed them.

The more we read about how Jesus dealt with people, the more we can detect His type of speech if it is uttered by politicians or spoken in the workplace.  We can hear someone make a speech or talk to someone—and right away be detect if the person is speaking as Jesus would have spoken.  We know if someone speaks in the same tone of voice, and if the content of what they say echoes the Master. 

The story about loaves and fishes feeding 5000 does NOT report  Jesus saying to the crowd: “You should have planned ahead.  Don’t come begging from me.”  And we don’t hear him say “God helps those who help themselves.”  Scripture can both teach us how to communicate with others and also WARN US not to be seduced by voices that do not sound like something Jesus would say.

I don’t know what ground was covered in this past week’s Eucharistic Congress, but the topic brought to mind something that Mother Theresa had hanging in her room.  This is what it said:

“A Holy Hour before the Eucharist is important only if it leads us to a “holy hour” with those in need or those who will never be a human success.  Our Eucharist is incomplete if it does not make us respect and serve the poor and anyone in need. In receiving the communion of the poor, we discover our own poverty.”  As the spiritual writer, Louis Evely, wrote: “That man is you.” 

Today’s gospel tells of Jesus and the apostles needing rest after working with the people.  They sought a “deserted place” where they could relax, recover, and then return to their ministry.  I was reminded of what Catholic tradition has called a “retreat.”  This term refers to one taking time off from their regular schedule and spending time reflecting on their life and asking God for guidance and insight. 

When one enters the Society of Jesus, or Jesuits (the religious Order to which I belong), they make what’s known as a “30-day retreat.”  Based on what’s known as “the spiritual exercises of Saint Ignatius,” this period offers reflections for one to ponder and draw spiritual strength (just as one does physical “exercises” to acquire physical strength).  At the end of their training period, Jesuits make another 30-day retreat—having made 8-day retreats each year.  For some years, lay people have made the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius, and even work at retreat houses where they direct anyone who wishes to make a retreat.

Some years back, corporations began to refer to their sales seminars as “retreats.”  Over time, businesses now speak of employees going on “retreats”—meaning the employees are being taught how to make more profits for the corporation.  Religion has no connection to this use of the word “retreat.”  The term has been hijacked from the vocabulary of Catholic spirituality. 

More importantly, today’s gospel reminds us of an important element of Christian identity—a trait that makes our identity as Christians a difficult one to live.  We’re told that Jesus looked at the “vast crowds” (that’s you and I) and felt compassion toward them.  He sees them as “sheep without a shepherd.” 

I’ve often been in a congregation, looked around at the people with me, and seen young, old, happy, and sad faces directed toward the altar.  My face is one of those people.  Each of us is seen by a God who lovingly beholds us and who knows what lies behind the faces we wear on any given day.  The “real presence” of God is at the Eucharist, and the God we seek is not there to belittle us, but to help us with whatever we hold within our silence.  Today’s gospel passage reminds us of Jesus having pity on us, and reaching out to us who have so many needs.

I’m reminded of another gospel incident—that told of Jesus calling us Christians to love one another.  We might too quickly think that we do care for others and are not a “bad” person.  But are we really loving or compassionate toward others?  Or are we loving and compassionate mostly toward our spouse, children, siblings, and extended family members?  We might think of ourselves as being a pretty good person in relating to our family and friends, but Jesus reminds us that “even the scribes and Pharisees” behave that way.  The gospel calls us to expand our circle to include more than just family and friends.

Extending this reflection further, think of studies that focus on the interplay of mothers loving their babies and babies loving their mothers.  Is their experience a choice, or a chemical action within our physiology?  After all, studies show that “oxytocin” (known as the “love chemical”) rises within both a mother and her baby when relating to one another.  Similarly, the family dog has this same increase ALONG WITH its owner when greeting one another after a period of separation.  The presence of oxytocin within us generates feelings of “love” toward another (child or dog).

Similarly, when one says “it was love at first sight” when they met a girlfriend or boyfriend—MIGHT relate to what are known as “pheromones” within the two people.  Studies suggest that we have a chemistry that sensitizes us to a certain chemical that attracts us to a certain person (or people).  This is somewhat parallel to a female dog in heat attracting males from miles around.  We don’t consciously inhale a person’s “scent,” but for some reason find one person more attractive than another—and we are drawn to that person.  This pheromonal activity is more subtle than an erotic response to someone.  You are attracted to someone UNCONSCIOUSLY.  Thus, inquiring minds wonder to what extent we are controlled by chemistry or by choices we make via “free will” or “cultural conditioning.?”

I watched a video that showed an African water buffalo repeatedly probing the ground with its horns trying to move something.  Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was trying to help a tortoise “get back on its feet.” After several uplifts of its head and horns, the buffalo was able to flip the tortoise aright.  It stepped back and just looked at the tortoise be on its way in another direction.  What on earth was at play here?  What prompted that water buffalo to help a tortoise that was struggling?

A goat put its head through fence posts, and couldn’t pull its head back out.  Being stuck this way, it needed help.  Along comes a goose who walks over to the goat and clamps its beak on the goat’s neck—trying to pull it back through the fence.  A woman came and told the goose she’d help, and the goose stepped back a couple of paces to watch.  The woman was successful and both she and the goose wandered away.  What on earth was at play here?  What prompted that goose to try and help that goat?

I read somewhere that dogs lick a cut as a form of medical assistance and that some chemical might be at play that aids in the recovery of a cut.  Show your scratch to a dog, and it will begin to lick it—not because it likes to lick wounds, but because it possibly “heals” wounds in this fashion.  If a dog sees that you have a wound of some kind—prepare to be “doctored.”

It seems that water buffaloes, geese, and dogs can be compassionate toward others—even those who are not their own kind.

When it comes to behavior within the animal world (remember we are in the animal kingdom), I’m reminded of people eating caterpillars, cats, and insects of all kinds when 99.9% of Americans would not eat any of these creatures.  A biologist friend of mine would invite students and faculty to join him whenever he collected cicadas to fry.  Not many people joined him, but those who did—thought they were tasty.  Just a few decades back, few Americans wanted or even knew about sushi.  Today it’s found in all grocery stores. Eating raw fish?  No way—yes way!

Hmm.  Are our behaviors totally “nature” or totally “nurture?”  Maybe some are learned and some genetic, or maybe some are a little of both?

I think of tribal groups around the world (your own ethnic background is included).  All have a name for themselves which translates to something akin to “people” (e.g., mountain, river, rice people, etc.).  All tribes also refer to people from other groups as something else—generally some sort of cut-down (e.g., big bellies, snakes, etc.).  The Nuer tribe in Sudan (Africa) thinks the worst name you could call another of your group is “Dinka” (the name of a neighboring tribe).  If you and I saw a Nuer standing next to a Dinka, we’d say something like “Those are two black guys standing over there.”).  But to a Nuer, those Dinka are 2^nd class citizens.  In short, as a Nuer grows up, they learn that Dinka are “low lifes.”  Biologically, however, the Nuer and Dinka have the same DNA.

A nun taught a class of kindergarteners that people from Central and South America were fleeing to the U.S. because of poverty, war, drugs, and death in their homeland—and that they sought new life here in America (the same story that applied to our ancestors).  After she told the children about these people, she asked: “How many of you think we should help these people find a new home here?”  All hands were raised.

This anecdote is not an advertisement for some partisan border policy. It’s instead a reflection on how the gospel calls us to treat all life forms with compassion.  As you know, people argue about immigration issues until they’re blue in the face—and have trouble getting consensus on anything.  Our concern here is a more fundamental one.  Namely, if Jesus tells us to love one another, we have to ask ourselves “Am I loving people outside my family circle?”  If Jesus says that we are all brothers and sisters in Christ, his reference is to us being related to all people in the world.  And “loving” one another isn’t a romantic thing, but rather a conscious commitment to helping others any way we can. “Compassion” is the energizing value that moves us to act on behalf of the common good.  We thus “love” (assist, aid, care about, defend, make safe, etc.) all within the human family.  We DON’T retreat into clannishness or an “us versus them” way of life.

This posture is where the rubber meets the road in our identity as Christians.  It’s no easy identity to maintain—which is why we have to gather as often as we can at the table of the Lord.  We have trouble being a brother or sister in Christ to others.  But just because it’s tough to act this way—doesn’t mean we throw in the towel and just become brutish beasts pushing people aside in service only to ourselves.

The kindergartners showed an inbuilt response of compassion.  These young ones had not yet been tainted by “adult” prejudices against other people.  The children were like the water buffalo, the goose, and dog-doctors.  We adults have become far more selective in choosing to help others in need.  The tortoise and the goat sure appreciated the help they received.

The gospel showed that Jesus had compassion for “the vast crowd” of people who sought his help.  When addressing that crowd—symbolic of us—he could just as well have told them: “Learn from the water buffalo, the goose, licking dogs, and little children.”