People saw them leaving. They hastened there on foot from all the towns and arrived at the place before them.
By now it was already late and his disciples approached him and said, "This is a deserted place and it is already very late. Dismiss them so that they can go to the surrounding farms and villages and buy themselves something to eat."
He said to them in reply, "Give them some food yourselves. How many loaves do you have?" They said, "Five loaves and two fish."
So he gave orders to have them sit down on the green grass. Then, taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people; he also divided the two fish among them all. They all ate and were satisfied. (from Mark 6)
Today, St. Pius V had Mass in a nearby park, something they do once a year. Em told us about it, and since the rest of our house went to Mass last night, we went together. It was a very different liturgical adventure from last week's Tridentine Mass. This Mass, in "God's first cathedral," as the priest put it, harkened back to my days at Yosemite National Park, leading worship services under the rocks and mountains that took my breath away. Here however, we sat on flat grass and could see the cars on the nearby roads.
The experience of participating in Mass on a blanket held a different type of sacred. At first, I mostly just enjoyed the fact that the lectors were the best two I've heard since leaving W&M (we have some amazing lectors there; I'm liturgically spoiled). But then during communion, as I watched everyone get up off the green grass to share this meal of broken bread, it hit me.
I was living out the story of the loaves and fishes.
Our seminarian last year, in his theology series, explained the linking between the Last Supper, the Passion and death of Christ, and the Mass and Eucharist now, in terms of anamnesis. It means a remembering that is more than a remembering -- as separated as we are by time and distance from the historical event, spiritually, anamnetically, we share the same sacrifice. The cross, the Eucharist, and our Mass are all the same.
The sharing of the loaves and fishes serves as a precursor for the Eucharist. A sort of foreshadowing. It might be somewhat backwards for the experience of the foreshadowing deepen the actual event, but that's what happened today. Being a part of the miracle of loaves and fishes drew me into the miracle of the Mass, reminding me of the oneness of everything in our lives and our history.
After Mass, we had a picnic in superabundance. It also was reminiscent of the 12 wicker baskets left over.
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