The Christ who feeds

We begin today the great Bread of Life discourse from St John’s Gospel. It commences with John’s account of the feeding of the multitude on the hills above Lake Galilee.

While it is appropriate not to see the sign of the feeding of the multitude as some magical act, a simple social justice reading is also evidently wrong. John is careful to accurately recount what food was and wasn’t available: the disciples had asked and found only what the boy had. John also clearly identifies who brought about the abundance for feeding: entirely from Jesus in his act of blessing. And finally, John shows how this act pointed to the abundance of grace that is a true sign of God’s kingdom among them, by ensuring that what was still available for others would not be wasted.

This sign of God’s abundant presence is also for us. In this act, Jesus is offering to those who need him the gift of himself. He will come to offer that gift to us at the Last Supper, and then from the cross. I give you my all; I pour out myself for all.

It started with the feeding of the crowds above the Sea of Galilee, but it continues with what we will be fed as we come forward at Holy Communion. From what little we offer to God, God—in Christ—offers fully himself.

How powerful is this sign for us, which Jesus gave to the multitude? Powerful enough that it can still be ridiculed more than 2000 years later. I prepared this homily as the images from the opening ceremony of the Olympics came through yesterday morning. A culture of such great depth and long history as France nonetheless saw fit to debase itself before the world by parodying the Last Supper of Christ. The gift of Christ is so powerful that a society cannot see past it but tries to overcome it by mockery. They failed. The gift of Christ himself cannot be forgotten.

So stand with the multitude in need, and see the Christ who feeds.