Scripture: Mark 8:1-10
In those days when there was again a great crowd without anything to eat, he called his disciples and said to them, I have compassion for the crowd, because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. If I send them away hungry to their homes, they will faint on the way — and some of them have come from a great distance." His disciples replied, "How can one feed these people with bread here in the desert?" He asked them, "How many loaves do you have?" They said, "Seven." Then he ordered the crowd to sit down on the ground; and he took the seven loaves, and after giving thanks he broke them and gave them to his disciples to distribute; and they distributed them to the crowd. They had also a few small fish; and after blessing them, he ordered that these too should be distributed. They ate and were filled; and they took up the broken pieces left over, seven baskets full. Now there were about four thousand people. And he sent them away. And immediately he got into the boat with his disciples and went to the district of Dalmanutha.
Reflection Questions:
Back to thinking about hunger. What is that thing that you hunger for from the core of your being? Where are you most in need of wholeness? How might God be trying to feed you? How might God be calling you to share what you have in the feeding of others?
Five-minute Story:
In the village of Chimayo, nestled high in the northeastern mountains of New Mexico, there is a shrine that pilgrims have journeyed to for over a hundred years. They came to this place seeking healing and wholeness. Some came bringing their crutches and ailments, which they miraculously left behind!
It was these stories that attracted this believer. I went to see the 'crutch room' of the shrine. I went to receive the 'holy dirt' that is credited to have miraculous powers. In a world where such things are discredited, labeled as 'superstitious,' and then dismissed out of hand, I yearned to see for myself what mysteries Chimayo contained.
As soon as I walked onto the property, I sensed that this was a special place, a holy place. There was a feeling of peace that passed my rationale explanations. As I walked through the shrine, I passed alcove upon alcove filled with the worn photographs of loved ones. Here was a place where you carried your fondest hopes for the ones that are dearest. I could just imagine the faithful with trembling hands as they pinned the photo to the wall, praying for things that the mind knew were impossible.
Past the displays of foreign, yet compelling, piety, like a moth drawn to a flame, I meandered to the small central chapel. I entered through a side door. Hundreds of crutches hung on the walls of a long narrow room. Connected to the crutches were an equal number of names and notes. More heartfelt testimonials were expressing thanks for healing. At the back of the room, a small door beckoned my curiosity.
Although I'm of average height, I had to duck to enter the tiny room, which contained a sand pit in the center. There you could fill containers of 'holy dirt' (Luckily the gift shop sold vessels; I bought a hand-painted clay jar). Holding in my hand the fine sand, I noted its ordinary nature. What was it about this dirt and this place that was so special?
I contemplated these questions as I made my way out of the chapel, passing the grotesque crucifix fastened to the stucco wall. Here was a place where both Jesus and his faithful followers were accustomed to suffering.
As I passed a small church office, I saw an official 'disclaimer' from the local diocese. It proclaimed that the dirt wasn't magical, it was procured by the janitor who went to the local hillside with a bucket. Instead of magic, the broadside gave credit for all healing to the grace of God. God was the healer who brought transformation to the lives of the faithful who came with a prayerful posture yearning for healing. They came with all their ailments to honor the one who shares their suffering on a cross. I wonder how many faithful hoppled away with their crutches still in use?
I left this holy place full of a sense of mystery. Even though I couldn't explain what I had experienced at the shrine, I have realized that my explanations or judgments don't matter. Trust, faith, and seeking God's healing are the things that are important. These are things that enter into divine mystery. These are the things that live at Chimayo, alongside the donated crutches that no longer have a use.