The Generous Child’s Lunchbox of Five Little Breads and Two Dried Fishes

Today’s liturgical readings for the 17th Sunday of Ordinary Time here.
As we were talking and dreaming of growing a family of our own nearly two decades ago, my partner and I wondered what kind of a world we would be sharing with our children. LGBTIQA+ folks of our cohort often grew up being told that we were not “enough,” because of our differences—whether it was our sexual orientation, our gender identity, or even the colour of our skin–made us second-class.We were made to feel that there wasn’t enough to go around for us.
The scripture readings this Sunday point us to the miracles that are possible when we have faith that expands our imagination to not place limits on divine providence for a generous and hospitable world. The goodness of God manifests through those who dare to love beyond their fears and be generous beyond their insecurities. We are capable of making miracles happen with God and our neighbour.
Instead of accepting a dystopia of scarcity of goodness around, queer folks have responded by having a sacred queer imagination akin to today’s Gospel story, which we often call “the Five Loaves and Two Fishes,” or a title I much prefer: “the generous kid with a lunchbox of five little breads and two dried fishes.”
When there were scarcely any generous examples, positive stories, or good news about LGBTIQA+ realities for the masses, vulnerable LGBTIQA+ folks offered their own stories—their vulnerable lived realities and basic human flourishing—to calm anxious hearts and feed the minds of those hungry and limited uneducated queer-fearing people.
This Gospel story places a vulnerable child as the silent lead. It asks us to pay attention to what God does with the overlooked and the insignificant. The miracle story centres on the vulnerability and generosity of a child to propose an alternative way of relating to God and community.
Jesus then asks the thousands to literally relax on green pastures, not as strangers, but like a group of sheep—sheep that grew up together in the same herd, securely resting and being fed by the providence of God the shepherd, as depicted in Psalm 23. Leaning into the limitless love of God and generosity of neighbourliness, we can expand the littleness that we are and multiply the little that we have for the wellbeing of another.
RuPaul Charles, perhaps the world’s most famous drag queen, said that we “are an extension of the power that created this universe. If we understand that, then anything is possible.” In other words, don’t buy into the profiteers of hate, scarcity, and fear-mongering sold to us, most especially when it is used as an excuse to ‘other’ our neighbours. When we are open to the surprising goodness of people and the imagination of God, amazing things can happen.

Jesus gives what some people might call an anti-climactic ending, but perhaps it is the most radical part of the whole story. Unlike the self-aggrandizing personalities we may see in the media, who claim a heroic or messianic role, welcoming the fanfares and triumphalism of fans and sycophants, Jesus, conscious that people were looking to find a prophet, a fix-it-all, models a different kind of queer kindom, by retreating into the contemplative presence of God, the infinite sovereign.
Today’s second liturgical reading echoes Jesus’ action by reminding follower to live “with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace” (Eph 4:1-6).
Reflecting on this story of the kid with a lunchbox of five little breads and two dried fishes gives us perhaps some ideas of what kind of a world we might build with all earthlings and share with all our children. We can imagine a different kind of world, building an earthly kindom where we can take a chance on one another without buying into the insecure allures of fear, self-enriching false prophets, and dictatorially extravagant kings. Our shared humanity, caring for one another and sustainably caring for the earth, will provide more than enough for everyone to live generously and kindly. If we have faith to connect to our deepest humanity and live vulnerably in relationships for the love and benefit of each another, we could begin to mend the brokenness of our beloved world and flourish abundantly together.
—Benjamin Oh, July 28, 2024




Thank you for this powerful reflection!