I’m a proud product of a Jesuit education, and one thing I can say without any hesitation is that all of the Jesuits who taught me were really smart. Father James Schall, SJ – political science, Fr. John Witek, SJ – Asian history, Father James Walsh, SJ – theology, and Fr. Robert Drinan –constitutional law, each stands out in my mind as a formidable thinker who encouraged and challenged me in my formative years. What amazed the most about these men, though, was their tremendous faith. As Catholic priests, they devoted their lives to “the Greater Glory of God,” notwithstanding the trend, then and now, for academics to dismiss faith in favor of scientific proof for everything, to separate the notion of God from the material world. These men found God in everything because they knew how to think sacramentally, which is exactly what our readings challenge us to do.
Our first reading and our Gospel carry a common theme, which makes life much easier for your humble homilist. They tell us that the spiritual law of abundance always trumps the physical law of scarcity. What seems like a pittance to us, can become a surplus in the hands of God. In both Second Kings and John, a lone person offers a meager sum of food, and multitudes eat. Now, of course, we could invent a rational explanation for what happened in both accounts: for example, receiving a small amount of food inspired the crowd to share other food they had squirreled away in a more selfish moment. But, that would be a miracle too, wouldn’t it? It all depends on how we look at the situation. It all depends on whether we think sacramentally.
No aspect of Catholicism is more significantly Catholic than sacramentality. Sacramentality basically means that the visible, material, and historical world can reveal the invisible, immaterial, and eternal presence of God. Sacramentality acknowledges God’s presence in the goodness of creation, in our work, and in our worship. From a sacramental perspective, then, God is really present in a toucan and a tortoise, in the waters of the baptismal font, and in the most Blessed Sacrament, and even in a Republican and a Democrat. So, “sacramentality is a world view, it is a way of looking at life, it is a way of thinking and acting in the world.”[1]
To understand sacramentality, we have to know the difference between signs and symbols. Signs point to something outside of themselves. A caution sign on the road, for example, isn’t itself worthy of warning. You’ve never been attacked by a caution sign, have you? A caution sign tells us that something along the route poses a potential danger. It points to something else. A symbol, on the other hand, is an effective or “efficacious” sign. It both points to the thing it indicates and makes it present. That’s why we call the sacraments “efficacious signs (i.e., symbols) of invisible grace.” The sacraments both point to God’s grace and make it present. So symbols are places of encounter, and in the Christian context, they’re places of encounter with God in Jesus Christ. Through creation and the Incarnation, then, the world and human history become symbols of Christ’s real, sacramental presence among us, and the world and everything and everyone in it have the potential to reveal God’s presence among us, if we think sacramentally.
The importance of sacramental thinking to our faith lives is evident, again, in our readings. In our first reading, Elisha confidently tells his servant to give the small food offering to the people, but his servant objects out of fear that such little food will enrage the hungry crowd. Elisha is thinking sacramentally; his servant isn’t. Elisha sees God’s superabundant grace in the offering; the servant doesn’t. Likewise, in our Gospel, “there is a contrast between Andrew and Philip. Philip was the man who said: ‘The situation is hopeless; nothing can be done.’ Andrew is the man who said, ‘I’ll see what I can do; and I’ll trust Jesus to do the rest.’”[2] Andrew is thinking sacramentally; Philip isn’t.
We need to think sacramentally. When we think sacramentally, we see the world through Jesus’ eyes. When we think sacramentally, we understand that what we have to offer may not be much, but “a little is always much in the hands of Christ.”[3] When we think sacramentally, the Holy Spirit enters our souls, fills them to capacity, and completely satisfies our innate hunger for spiritual nourishment.[4] Sacramental thinking gives us strength, meaning, and hope, even in the most dire circumstances, because it helps us see that Jesus is with us always until the end of the age. And when we realize that Jesus is always with us, we change for the better, and miracles happen.
Like those Jesuits and the elders and grandparents we honor today who revealed God’s presence to us in their words and deeds, everyone who thinks sacramentally has a power that extends beyond themselves. God calls each of us to offer the “paltry stuff of our lives” with the faith-filled certainty that God will do more with us than we could ask or imagine.[5] “The world is denied miracle after miracle and triumph after triumph [whenever] we [fail to] bring to Jesus what we have and what we are.”[6] But when we think sacramentally, our neighbors find food at our local food pantries, like the Open Cupboard here in Clinton. When we think sacramentally, women who face unexpected pregnancies find hope, love, and support at life-affirming pregnancy centers, like Life Choices out in Phillipsburg. And when we think sacramentally, people who feel lonely, marginalized, or unloved will find welcome, refuge, and a loving community right here at Immaculate Conception Church. We need more miracles like these. We need to think sacramentally.
Readings: 2 Kings 4:42-22; Psalm 145; Ephesians 4:1-6; John 6:1-15
[2] William Barclay, The Gospel of John, vol. 1, The New Daily Study Bible (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 238.
[3] Ibid., 239.
[4] John Shea, The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers: Eating with the Bridegroom, Year B (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2005), 190.
[5] Ibid., 194.
[6] Barclay, 239.
