One Bread, One Body

When you make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, sometimes there is just too much to take in. It was the middle of the day, we had overspent our time at the previous site, we were hungry, and it seemed like the group was leaning towards skipping Tabgha—the site of the multiplication of loaves. We opted to go but would have very little time at the location.

As you walk into the chapel, everyone is staring at the floor, taking pictures, and reverencing a mosaic in the ground just in front of the altar. When I could make out the shape of the design, I got goosebumps knowing the symbols—but couldn’t place it. “Recognize that?” someone asked. “Yes, but from where?” I replied in puzzlement. “Our altar at St. Monica!” I felt a little ashamed but mostly moved and humbled. And with that, we were being called back to the bus.

In fairness, it’s not the main altar that we use today. It’s the former tabernacle just below the crucifix within the reredos. Since then, every time I enter our beautiful sanctuary, my eyes go there first. And like Proust’s madeleine (or let’s be honest—the film Ratatouille), I feel a mystical whirlwind back to that site. When the priest divides the host at Mass just as Jesus did, I am one of the thousands (it’s more than 5000 because the Gospel didn’t account for women or children).

St. Monica stands as a place where everything we share comes from one source, one loaf: God’s love. Together, we celebrate a common union: communion and a common unity: community. In a culture and climate of division, let us be examples of multiplication. May we be inspired by our Lord to serve, support, and sustain those we love and those that need it most.