Amidst the powerful yet familiar story of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes are two easily overlooked but very important details that St. John includes. The first is when the miracle takes place: “The Jewish feast of Passover was near.” John’s Gospel particularly takes account of time. It is John, for example, who presents a different timeline of the Passion from the other Gospels to have Christ dying on the Cross just as the Passover lambs are being sacrificed. John mentions that this miracle, and the hugely important Bread of Life Discourse that will come after it, are closely related to the Passover.

          The Passover is the yearly Jewish commemoration of the Israelites being freed from slavery in Egypt, setting out on their 40-year journey to the Promised Land. On that fateful night, the Angel of Death went through Egypt killing the first-born of man and beast, but passed over the Jewish homes that were marked with the blood of the lambs that they killed and ate together as a family. 1,300 years later, the Passover was the most important feast of the entire Jewish year.

          To say that this miracle, and the teaching about the Eucharist that it introduces has something to do with the Passover, then, is to say that the Eucharist has something to do with a sacrifice for sin, and that if it is like the Passover, then it is essential for salvation. In a few weeks, we will hear Christ tell us that he who does not eat His flesh and drink His blood does not have life within him. The context St. John sets up for us today shows us just how serious the Lord is: Those who were not passed over on that fateful night in Egypt, died.

          To say that this teaching about the Eucharist, and consequently, the Eucharist itself, is closely related to the Passover, is also to say that the Eucharist takes place in a highly ritualized context. No one familiar with the Jewish Passover ceremonies could believe the nonsense that was trendy in the mid-20^th century about Christ and the Apostles sitting around at the Last Supper like people at a pizza party. Passover is a highly structured, elaborate ritual. Christ instituted the Eucharist in just such a context – and thus, historical Christian worship bears the marks of its Jewish roots, with its chant, incense, bells, vestments, etc. Again, in the last century, it was trendy to think that Mass only came to have its “smells and bells” in the Middle Ages, or when Christianity became the official religion of the Roman empire and took on the trappings of the Roman (pagan) imperial court. But St. John shows us today that from the very beginning, the Church interpreted the significance of Christ’s action as establishing a definitive connection between the Eucharist and the Passover – which is to say, with a beautiful and elaborate ritual that communicates to soul and body the real presence of Christ.

          Two weeks ago, I spoke about the importance of culture – real culture, which sustains an authentic community. This is another essential part of a real culture: a connection to our past that is not mere memory but is a lived experience of the faith of our fathers, preserving not just what or Whom we worship, but even how we have worshiped for centuries. Historical Christian worship – namely, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass – does just that. There is no real culture without ritual, without liturgy.

Affirming this is more important than ever because the enemies of the Gospel know even better than we do that the Eucharist is at the heart of culture. The heart of the cultural inheritance of the West is the Christian faith, and the heart of the Christian faith is the Eucharist. So when the enemies of the Gospel — who are increasingly the enemies of civilization, and of nature itself — want to break down the shared cultural inheritance of the West — which was exactly the point of the Olympics’ opening ceremonies: breaking down our shared cultural inheritance — to do that, they mock the Sacrament of Christ’s Body and Blood and traditional depictions of its institution with disgusting and lecherous blasphemy. This is an outrage, but if we can read the signs of the times, it should not be that much of a surprise.

          The second seemingly insignificant but important detail is how the multiplication of the loaves and fishes actually happens. St. John reports that, “Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted.” Before our Lord distributes the five barley loaves and two fish to the 5,000 people, He gives thanks. This seems normal to any person used to praying before meals, but it is actually rather surprising.

          Why would our Lord give thanks for five loaves and two fishes that are supposed to feed over 5,000 people? It would not be my response! It probably wouldn’t be yours either. If I had only five loaves and two fishes to feed 5,000 people, I don’t think that I would be thankful at all. I would be frustrated, confused, bewildered, and overwhelmed.

          Our Lord does not pronounce any magic words over the loaves and fishes. He just gives thanks. It is thankfulness – the thankfulness of God Himself in the person of Christ – that multiplies the offerings of that boy who presented all he had to the Apostles.

          Christ here is thankful not only for the bread and the fish, but He is thankful for the generosity of the boy who presents them. We know that Christ does not need to rely on any human person – He could have made food appear out of thin air – but He chose to work through the poverty of one generous boy, willing to give up all that he has.

          Why? God desires to work through our weak human nature, telling us that His power is made perfect in weakness (2 Cor 12:9), as we heard a few weeks ago. The God who can transform us through the power of grace is far greater than a God of flashy miracles.

          At Mass, right before the priest consecrates the Sacred Host, he says, “On the day before he was to suffer, he took bread in his holy and venerable hands, and with eyes raised to heaven to you, O God, his almighty Father, giving you thanks, he said the blessing, broke the bread and gave it to his disciples, saying.” Giving thanks, just as it was a critical part of how the loaves and fishes were multiplied, is a critical part of how the bread and wine are transformed into Christ’s Body and Blood. If you look closely, you will even see me slightly bow my head during those words, a traditional sign of respect for the God to whom we give thanks for the great privilege of participating in these holy mysteries.

In traditional Roman Catholic theology, the consecration of the bread and wine happens because our offering is accepted by God the Father because of the spirit of reverence and thanksgiving with which Christ makes it. Remember, this is the sacrifice of Christ in which we are privileged to participate as members of His body. It is primarily His sacrifice of thanksgiving to the Father, in which we are invited to participate.

What does that mean for us? It means that in the Mass, we are invited to participate in Christ’s own thanksgiving. This is true active participation – a term from the Second Vatican Council frequently, and erroneously, thought to mean that people should do more things at Mass. Rather, the deepest participation possible in the Mass is the interior joining of ourselves to Christ’s sacrifice of thanksgiving. The very same Christ who gave thanks for the humble offerings of that boy in Galilee will gives thanks before and upon this altar for the humble gifts that we offer.

The gifts that we offer are much more than the bread and wine that will be brought forward in procession shortly. Christ desires that we offer not just something else, but that we offer ourselves, as He did. We are called to be victim priests like him.

What does this mean, to offer ourselves in a sacrifice of thanksgiving like Christ does? This week, find something to be thankful for, but not in the typical way, like when you go around the table at Thanksgiving and each person has to say what he is thankful for – for having a home, for having food to eat, for grandma’s pumpkin pie. Instead, give thanks for something small, something insufficient. Find the five barley loaves and two fish that are supposed to feed 5,000 people. Maybe it’s the bank account balance that is smaller than your credit card bill, or the paycheck that is smaller than your student load balance. Or better yet, maybe it’s the small amount of courage you have to resist evil, or the small amount of time that you are able to spend in prayer. Give thanks for that.

When you give thanks with a sincere heart, with a desire to offer yourself to the Lord just as you are – weak, humble, and insufficient – it is then that the Lord will transform your offering of yourself. Just as He multiplied the fishes and loaves two thousand years ago and just as He transforms the bread and wine today, God the Father will accept your offering and transform you in ways that you can only begin to imagine.

The Rev. Royce V. Gregerson

Parish Church of Our Lady of Good Hope, Ft. Wayne

XVII Sunday through the Year, A.D. MMXXIV