Blessed, broken and shared

A Reflection for the Memorial of Sts. Cyril, Monk and Methodius, Bishop

Find today’s readings here.

For years I lived and worked in the Bronx in college campus ministry, and one of my favorite parts of my job was bringing students on weekly “Midnight Runs.” We volunteered with the Midnight Run organization, filling up a van with donated clothes, bins of sandwiches, urns of coffee and soup. We would leave campus around 11:00 p.m. and drive into Manhattan, making four or five stops a night to hand out food and clothing.

Those we served knew where we would be stopping ahead of time. We met regulars at their preferred locations, chatted over sandwiches and soup, checked to see if we had the clothes or toiletries they needed and then moved on to the next stop. Every Midnight Run, week after week, I found myself worrying while loading up the vans: But will we have enough? Is this making a difference?

That question is echoed by the disciples in today’s Gospel reading. Faced with a hungry crowd in a deserted place, they don’t deny the need, they are just overwhelmed and cannot imagine a solution. “Where can anyone get enough bread?” they ask, likely stressed and hungry themselves. A very human response, and a familiar one, especially when we look at the injustices facing not just the unhoused in New York City but marginalized communities across the country. 

That question feels especially close as immigrant communities live with fear and uncertainty. Families are navigating detention, deportation and constant threat of separation at the hands of ICE, often too afraid to leave their homes. It would be easier to throw up our hands and say, “What can we do about it?” The problems are too big, the systems are too broken and the suffering is beyond our control. 

But like Jesus, we must allow our hearts to be moved with pity, and action, for the crowd. We must not minimize the problem and surrender to despair, instead we must start with what we can do. We must ask ourselves: “How many loaves do we have?” Justice work often begins there, with those small, tangible things that we can act on immediately, like volunteering with local organizations, or grocery shopping for a family afraid to leave their home. 

The miracle in today’s Gospel isn’t that the scarcity of food disappears. It’s that what is offered, the loaves and fishes, however insufficient they initially feel, are blessed, broken and shared. God’s abundance and miracles move through our hands. Through vans packed late at night with food, clothes and college students. Through conversations over soup. Through advocacy, accompaniment and the moral decision to not look away. We must act in whatever way we can—offer whatever loaves we have—and allow God to multiply them.

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