Pope Francis on the loaves and fishes, being blessed and a blessing

by | Jul 4, 2019 | Blog

By David Mills in La Croix,  July 3, 2019

Pope Francis during Mass for the Solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul, Vatican City. (Photo: PHOTOSHOT/MAXPPP)

As predictable as a Baltimore Orioles loss, anti-Francis Catholics celebrated Corpus Christi with a misleading story about Pope Francis, of the “Look at how this foolish man is undermining the faith now” sort. It popped up in my Facebook feed, thanks to my disparate collection of Facebook friends.

A German Catholic site claimed in the headline, “Pope: Jesus did not multiply bread—he taught people to share.” (That’s the Google translation, which the Facebook posters used.)

The subhead said: “The so-called ‘bread multiplication’ is one of the most famous miracles of Jesus: Five small loaves fill 5,000 people. But a real increase did not take place, says Pope Francis.”

Francis wouldn’t say that, you may be thinking. He’s never shown the slightest skepticism about the supernatural. If anything, he’s been a little more enthusiastic about it than Benedict.

I don’t remember John Paul II or Benedict talking as much about the Devil, in as personal and familiar a way as Francis does. He talks about the Blessed Virgin with a simpler piety than the more philosophical John Paul II and more theological Benedict.

His critics think differently about this. As I pointed out a few years ago, they always read him as unscrupulous prosecuting attorneys.

Among the comments I saw on one posting were: “So instead of believing God is faithful in providing for His children, our Pope wants us to believe that God promotes Socialism?”

Another commenter said: “Impressive. I don’t know how many people could deny the miracle of the five loaves and then turn it into a mini-diatribe against greed and capitalism.”

Someone even accused him of Bolshevism: “The dialectic materialism of Lenin is strong with this one.”

The same person accused Francis of heresy: “If what Zenit said is correct, then he is at least speaking of Christ in an almost Arian manner, since he denudes Christ of the ability to effect miracles, instead attributing it to trust in the Father. It’s bizarre exegesis.”

And “It worked out so well the first time that Peter denied Our Lord I’m sure it will be okay this time.”

A few commenters tried to point to what the pope had said. That included a very conservative writer, who was trying to be fair, though she had (of course) to finish by blaming Francis for being “unclear.”

The other commenters and the original poster ignored his defenders. The poster even added later, “You know what else people use the term ‘magic trick’ about, when they want to plant doubt in the faithful person’s mind? The Eucharist.”

It took me less than a minute to find the homily, search “magic,” and find out what the pope said. And—surprise!—that German newspaper headline is misleading and the subhead wrong.

Here‘s what Francis actually said. His critics could have found this out for themselves, but since they assume Francis is always wrong, why would they?

The pope tells us something we need to know, and frequently be reminded of

The pope points to the word “give.” This, he says, “tells us something very beautiful. Bread is not only something to be consumed; it is a means of sharing. Surprisingly, the account of the multiplication of the loaves does not mention the multiplication itself.”

Jesus emphasizes the sharing, not the multiplying. “Jesus does not perform a magic trick; he does not change five loaves into five thousand and then announce: ‘There! Distribute them!'” No, says Francis. “Jesus first prays, then blesses the five loaves and begins to break them, trusting in the Father.

And those five loaves never run out. This is no magic trick; it is an act of trust in God and his providence.”

Now, I confess I don’t find this attempt to get at the real meaning of the miracle very helpful. Preachers do this kind of thing a lot.

It’s kind of like the new math of my childhood, which tried to teach children mathematical concepts without making them do the arithmetic. But the concepts only made sense once you’d done the problems.

I think you get at the depth of the miracle by beginning with the feeling “That’s so cool!” Amazement at the miracle can and should lead to reflection on what it means.

I like to move from the outward sign, the astonishing event itself, to the meaning. But my mind works differently from Francis’s, and I don’t have his pastoral experience. Unlike his critics, I don’t expect him to preach the homilies I would preach.

Still, it’s easy to see what the Holy Father is trying to do—easy to see, if you’re not reading him to convict. I think he’s trying to make us see this miracle as an act of love: the love that is the complete trust He has in His Father, and the love He has for His lost people.

It is the love that draws together His Father and His people, the love we see on the Cross. The mode by which he does this, miracle or proclamation, doesn’t matter so much. It’s secondary.

Francis worries, not unreasonably, that we’ll see the miracle as a magic trick. We can easily focus on the miracle and not the purpose for which Jesus performed it.

We are almost incorrigibly self-centered. We can too easily focus on the idea that Jesus gives us things, not that he draws us into love, into a life of sharing who we are and what we have.

A miracle feels like a present, and everyone likes presents, but a life will cost us. I could be wrong, but that’s what I took from reading him, with trust.

But we can, reading Francis trustingly, find yet another purpose in why he said what he said. Jesus always works his miracles for someone who needs the help.

He heals the sick because they’re sick. He turned water into wine to save a family from embarrassment. He fed hungry people. He didn’t turn five stones into a rock quarry or fill a bakery with bread when no one was hungry.

He didn’t do things just to draw attention to his divine abilities. That’s why Francis notes that the miracle comes during the distribution of the loaves and fishes, not before it. (I’m indebted to my friend Matthew Boudway for this insight.)

But some people were content to pocket Christ’s gifts while ignoring the message that came with them. When Jesus talked about Himself as the sacrament (John 6), a lot of his followers bailed.

They didn’t want that. Indeed, early in His explanation (v. 26), He says rather tartly, “Believe me, if you are looking for me now, it is not because of the miracles you have seen; it is because you were fed with the loaves, and had your fill.”

“Jesus loves you and this is how he shows it, and how he wants you to live yourself”—this seems to me the broad lesson Francis was teaching, through a close look at what Jesus does in multiplying the loaves and fishes.

As he says near the beginning of the homily: “The Eucharist is itself a school of blessing. God blesses us, his beloved children, and thus encourages us to keep going. And we, in turn, bless God in our assemblies (cf. Ps 68:26), rediscovering the joy of praise that liberates and heals the heart.

We come to Mass, certain that we will be blessed by the Lord, and we leave in order to bless others in turn, to be channels of goodness in the world.”

The pope tells us something we need to know, and frequently be reminded of. His critics miss a lot when they jump on any excuse to attack him.

David Mills edits the site Hour of Our Death.

This article first appeared in Commonweal Magazine.

 

HOLY MASS, PROCESSION AND EUCHARISTIC BLESSING
ON THE SOLEMNITY OF THE MOST HOLY BODY AND BLOOD OF CHRIST

HOMILY OF HIS HOLINESS POPE FRANCIS

Church of Santa Maria Consolatrice, in the Roman quarter of Casal Bertone
Sunday, 23 June 2019

[Multimedia]


 

Today, God’s word helps us to appreciate more deeply two verbs that are simple, yet essential for daily life: to speak and to give.

To speak.  In the first reading, Melchizedek says: “Blessed be Abram by God Most High… and blessed be God Most High” (Gen14:19-20).  For Melchizedek, to speak is to bless.  He blesses Abraham, in whom all the families of the earth will be blessed (cf. Gen12:3; Gal 3:8).  Everything begins with blessing: words of goodness create a history of goodness.  The same thing happens in the Gospel: before multiplying the loaves, Jesus blesses them: “Taking the five loaves, he looked up to heaven and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples” (Lk 9:16).  A blessing turns five loaves into food enough for a great crowd: the blessing releases a cascade of goodness.

Why is it good to bless?  Because it turns a word into a gift. When we bless, we are not doing something for ourselves, but for others.  Blessing is not about saying nice words or trite phrases.  No, it is about speaking goodness, speaking with love.  That is what Melchizedek did, when he spontaneously blessed Abram, who had not said or done anything for him.  Jesus did the same thing, and he showed what the blessing meant by freely distributing the loaves.  How many times too, have we been blessed, in church or in our homes?  How many times have we received words of encouragement, or a sign of the cross on our forehead?  We were blessed on the day of our baptism, and we are blessed at the end of every Mass.  The Eucharist is itself a school of blessing.  God blesses us, his beloved children, and thus encourages us to keep going.  And we, in turn, bless God in our assemblies (cf. Ps 68:26), rediscovering the joy of praise that liberates and heals the heart.  We come to Mass, certain that we will be blessed by the Lord, and we leave in order to bless others in turn, to be channels of goodness in the world.

This is also true for us: it is important for us pastors to keep blessing God’s people.  Dear priests, do not be afraid to give a blessing, to bless the People of God.  Dear priests, continue to bless: the Lord wants to bless his people; he is happy to make us feel his affection for us.  Only as those who are themselves blessed, can we in turn bless others with that same anointing of love.  It is sad to think of how easily people today do the opposite: they curse, despise and insult others.  In the general frenzy, we lose control and vent our rage on everything and everyone.  Sadly, those who shout most and loudest, those angriest, often appeal to others and persuade them.  Let us avoid being infected by that arrogance; let us not let ourselves be overcome by bitterness, for we eat the Bread that contains all sweetness within it.  God’s people love to praise, not complain; we were created to bless, not grumble.  In the presence of the Eucharist, Jesus who becomes bread, this simple bread that contains the entire reality of the Church, let us learn to bless all that we have, to praise God, to bless and not curse all that has led us to this moment, and to speak words of encouragement to others.

The second verb is to give.  “Speaking” is thus followed by “giving”.  This was the case with Abraham who, after being blessed by Melchizedek, “gave him a tenth of everything” (Gen 14:20).  It was the case, too, with Jesus who after reciting the blessing, gave the loaves to be distributed among the crowd.  This tells us something very beautiful.  Bread is not only something to be consumed; it is a means of sharing.  Surprisingly, the account of the multiplication of the loaves does not mention the multiplication itself.  On the contrary, the words that stand out are: “break”, “give” and “distribute” (cf. Lk 9:16).  In effect, the emphasis is not on the multiplication but the act of sharing.  This is important.  Jesus does not perform a magic trick; he does not change five loaves into five thousand and then to announce: “There! Distribute them!”  No.  Jesus first prays, then blesses the five loaves and begins to break them, trusting in the Father.  And those five loaves never run out.  This is no magic trick; it is an act of trust in God and his providence.

In the world, we are always trying to increase our profits, to raise our income.  But why?  Is it to give, or to have?  To share or to accumulate?  The “economy” of the Gospel multiplies through sharing, nourishes through distributing.  It does not sate the greed of a few, but gives life to the world (cf. Jn 6:33).  The verb Jesus uses is not to have but to give.

He tells his disciples straight out: “You give them something to eat” (Lk 9:13).  We can imagine the thoughts that went through their minds:  “We don’t have enough bread for ourselves, and now we are supposed to think about others?  Why do we have to give them something to eat, if they came to hear our Teacher?  If they didn’t bring their own food, let them go back home, it’s their problem; or else give us some money to buy food”.  This way of thinking is not wrong, but it isn’t the way Jesus thinks.  He will have none of it: “You give them something to eat”.  Whatever we have can bear fruit if we give it away – that is what Jesus wants to tell us – and it does not matter whether it is great or small. The Lord does great things with our littleness, as he did with the five loaves.  He does not work spectacular miracles or wave a magic wand; he works with simple things.  God’s omnipotence is lowly, made up of love alone. And love can accomplish great things with little.  The Eucharist teaches us this: for there we find God himself contained in a piece of bread.  Simple, essential, bread broken and shared, the Eucharist we receive allows us to see things as God does.  It inspires us to give ourselves to others.  It is the antidote to the mindset that says: “Sorry, that is not my problem”, or: “I have no time, I can’t help you, it’s none of my business”.  Or that looks the other way…

In our city that hungers for love and care, that suffers from decay and neglect, that contains so many elderly people living alone, families in difficulty, young people struggling to earn their bread and to realize their dreams, the Lord says to each one of you: “You yourself give them something to eat”.  You may answer: “But I have so little; I am not up to such things”.  That is not true; your “little” has great value in the eyes of Jesus, provided that you don’t keep it to yourself, but put it in play.  Put yourself in play!  You are not alone, for you have the Eucharist, bread for the journey, the bread of Jesus.  Tonight too, we will be nourished by his body given up for us.  If we receive it into our hearts, this bread will release in us the power of love.  We will feel blessed and loved, and we will want to bless and love in turn, beginning here, in our city, in the streets where we will process this evening. The Lord comes to our streets in order to speak a blessing for us and to give us courage.  And he asks that we too be blessing and gift for others.

 

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