Psalm 85, 86
Genesis 46:1-7, 28-34
1 Corinthians 9:1-15
Mark 6:30-46

The story of the loaves and fishes has come down to us through the centuries as one of the archtypal fables of the collective imagination. One has only to mention "the loaves and fishes" to an educated audience and your meaning is instantly understood. It is the quintessential miracle -- the transforming of almost nothing into a lot of something. In editions of the Bible issued for children, the story is reduced practically to the level of a fairy tale -- Jesus, the handsome man dressed in white with the long hair, waves his hand and food magically appears.

But despite our familiarity with this particular miracle, a careful reading of the original episode (or rather one of them, for it appears in several of the gospels) can yield some subtle and stimulating thoughts.

In Mark's rendition, 6:30-46, we find one of those disturbing little shifts in the narrative that are so disconcertingly common throughout both the old and new testaments. When the apostles approached Jesus and tell him that the hour is late and the people have nothing to eat, he appears to suddenly turn on them by saying "Give ye them to eat." One can almost see the twinkle in his eyes and the beginning of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth as he gently tweaks them and throws the problem back into their own laps. Hasn't He, after all, been feeding them all afternoon? And what, exactly, did they expect Him to do about it anyway? The apostles react like startled children. Should we go out and buy some bread, they asked, and, if so, where? He quickly covers for them with the blessing of the five loaves and two fishes, which feed, we are told, five thousand men. The leftovers were then collected into twelve baskets (equal to the number of apostles) and have continued to feed people down to the present day.

That is one reading of the story. Here is another.

At a party some years ago, an earnest young man in his thirties, who happened to be British and plotting a career for himself as an academic, was bemoaning the state of the world and his own place in it. His own actions were, he felt, quite futile and useless to effect any real and meaningful change in the world. Why bother with anything? All was pointless. He went on like this for some time, as if daring the universe, and anyone in the room who was foolish enough, to try to convince him otherwise. Finally, in mock desperation, he threw his long arms up and said, "Give me some loaves and fishes!" What, exactly, he meant by this is unclear -- either he envisioned himself as Christ, or he felt that only a miracle could bring about the immediate and dramatic change in the world, and thereby restore the sense of purpose to his actions, that he was seeking. A beautiful young woman, herself from India, who had been sitting quietly across from him, her hands folded in her lap with an exquisite grace, responded, "Very well then. Give me seven women and men and educate them and send them out into the world. There are your loaves and fishes!"