If I were preaching tomorrow (which I am not), I might be inclined to ask.

Now that everyone can distribute crumbs among the masses with a keystroke, what will we share?

Crumbs of comfort, or of shame;

kernels of truth, or disinformation;

pieces of repentance, or of pride;

the bread of life, or poison?

This is not a call to put on a happy face, nor to pretend that all is well in a world where still we pray, fervently, “thy kingdom come, but soon, please, soon …”

Comfort comes on the heels of grief;

truth can be hard to swallow;

repentance reflects on the rough stuff;

but when Jesus saw the people spread out on the hillside like sheep, like sheep without a shepherd, he had compassion for them, and he had mercy. He fed them with the bread of life: his life. He gave thanks, broke the bread, and had his disciples distribute enough, with baskets returned to them, enough to sustain them on their journey home across the small Sea.

Whatever we share among the masses, will it be worthy of partaking in memory of him?