Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Little Jimmy came into the house with an earnest look and asked: Dad, where did I come from? His father thought, if he’s old enough to ask the question, he’s old enough to hear the answer. So, he gave Jimmy a pretty thorough biology lesson on reproductive matters. When he had finished, Jimmy still had a puzzled look on his face.  Is there something not clear? the father asked.  Jimmy said: Well, Tommy Dugan said he came from Cincinnati and I wondered where I came from.

Sometimes when we ask questions, we really aren’t looking more information than we can handle.  We are just surprised.   Where did that come from?  We or someone else may have said or done something out of character, but our wonder is short-lived.  Some may have an interest in ancestry and genealogy, but it doesn’t change matters on the ground.  In fact, our ancestry is a long history of surprises, accidents, and miracles.  Things happened that need not have happened.  Why was there grandfather Bill rather than nothing?  Why were we?  There was no master plan at work.  There is plenty of ground for wonder, humility, and thanks.  Maybe that is the grass we should sit on.

All four gospels relate the story of Christ’s miraculously feeding thousands of people.  It is an important story to grasp what occurs in the eucharist.  (Eucharistic references:  Passover, Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks and distributed them.)

John is sparse on details and wants to focus our attention on the wonder of Jesus starting with the absurdly inadequate and then more than satisfying the crowd.  Where did that come from?  Are we capable of enough wonder and awe to raise our eyes from the apparent to the surprise that God is working with the absurdly inadequate?

Our culture and society pride themselves on having liberated the material and historical from subjection to the spiritual.  This story of the gospel is a myth and fairy tale. We are free from the transcendent, the invisible super ordinates that had restricted our use and exploitation of creation and material reality.  Our competency is its own rule and the source of our satisfaction.  What good are these for so many?  The good has been transformed into goods, into products and packages that can be marketed. We are not even concerned with where did that come from?  Did it come from Nicaragua or Indonesia?  What had to be sacrificed or even destroyed, who had to offer their life that my needs be satisfied?  Our own satiety and overindulgence close our eyes to the change and loss that have been the hidden charge.  What is the source of our comfort and peace? Where did that come from?  Jesus raised his eyes. Our culture has lost its capacity for memory and hope, for resourcing itself in the source of life and multiplying its gifts for the future.  It will not raise its eyes.

At the heart of our celebration of the Eucharist is the experience and memory of Christ communicating his life to us in a way that cannot be evaluated by standards of efficiency, competency, or worth.  When we share in communion (with the 5000 or whomever), we are transformed into the Body we consume. His life becomes the source of the life we live.  But first he had to give his life and that sacrifice is embodied in his gift to us.  Where does this come from?  It goes back to God. No other explanation is needed or possible.

“I urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace: one body and one Spirit, as you were called to the one hope  of your call; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.”