A homily for the Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 28, 2024
2 Kgs 4:42-44, Eph 4:1-6, Jn 6:1-15
Let’s think about numbers for a moment.
Not the Old Testament Book of Numbers; that’s for another day.
No, I’m thinking about how numbers — mathematics and all that — are a big part of our relationship with God.
Because, of course, God created math and science and the laws of nature.
And miracles.
Let’s start with the loneliest number: 1.
Me. You.
God.
One. True. God.
But right away, we acknowledge that God is three persons, the Holy Trinity, the divinely perfect relationship among Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
The perfect example for every one of us.
Love, perfected.
Because no one should be lonely.
And in our day-to-day lives, we usually follow the Rule of Threes. Small, medium or large. Vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. Past, present and future. This, that or the other thing. Tom, Dick and Harry. Me, myself and I.
And on and on. Somehow, things just sound right when they come in threes. Even, sad to say, obituaries.
Most of us are created with five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot. There are five Olympic rings. We designate five days of the week as workdays.
The boy in our Gospel story had five barley loaves. We call that a handful. Maybe his parents called him a handful.
But he also had two fish, just as a full week has two weekend days. And the story of Creation as told in the Book of Genesis gives us a seven-day week. As seen on the official St. Anselm Church calendar and all the rest.
Seven loaves and fishes. Seven days of the week. Seven Sacraments. Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit. The Seven Last Words of Jesus.
No wonder even non-believers see 7 as a miraculous number. A lucky number.
And then we get to 12.
Twelve eggs in a dozen. (But 13 bagels, if you’re a regular customer.) Twelve months in a year. Twelve Apostles.
Twelve baskets of leftovers from the loaves and the fishes.
(By the way, where did the Twelve Apostles scrounge up 12 wicker baskets in the middle of nowhere? Just overthinking…)
So how do numbers, how does math figure into our relationship with God?
Seamlessly. Logically. In simple, everyday ways — seven days a week, 12 months a year — that are woven into our lives, our minds and bodies, and all of nature. The Rule of Threes. Counting on our fingers and toes. Planning our activities according to the calendar.
We come across everyday miracles from bar codes and gas mileage and GPS to delicate, lifesaving brain surgeries that all rely on the math and science that God created and revealed to humankind.
These miracles, in fact, have become so everyday that we take them for granted.
Sadly, when we take them for granted, we take God out of the equation. It slips our minds that God created them, that God gave them to us freely out of pure divine love.
That our world spins on its axis miraculously, that the sun shines on us.
So: For all the miracles we can count, for all the miracles we count on, and for all the miracles we haven’t gotten around to cataloging yet, let us give thanks.
Now, one last thought about numbers and Jesus.
In our passage from John’s Gospel
[T]he men reclined, about five thousand in number.
we hear the number 5 again. Five thousand men. A nice round number.
But if we listen closely, really closely, we do not hear a couple of other incredibly important numbers.
The crowd must have contained at least some women and children; otherwise, where would the Apostles have found the boy who was willing to share his lunch?
So: How many women accompanied their spouses to learn from this radical teacher of the Law of Love? How many children?
Does the evangelist John shortchange the impact of this miracle by undercounting what might have been a crowd of 25,000? I can’t say; I wasn’t there.
What I do know, however, is that Jesus continually performed the miracle of elevating the status of women and children throughout his ministry on Earth. The New Testament is full of examples.
Jesus counted women and children at a time when society didn’t.
Jesus started us, he started the world on the path toward making all human dignity an everyday thing.
And he challenges us to work toward finishing that great miracle.
