Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Matthew 14:16-18

I love Mondays. It wasn’t always like that. I mean I used to despise them with a passion, especially when I hated my job. I also hated school, but I liked my classmates. They made school pleasurable. I belonged a huge class. There were forty boys crammed into one classroom. We remained in the same class for six years. Most of us took it upon ourselves to make school fun and tolerable, consequently making us the nightmare of most of our teachers. They had to admit that we were a creative lot, especially when it came to mischief.

We were passionate about two things; science and play. The rest was dispensable, we thought. Maybe we were right. Most teachers avoided our class like the plague. We used to be proud of this fact. My friends made Mondays tolerable when I was in school. After all these years we are still in contact. We call ourselves brothers of class…We truly are, more than I expected. This Monday, I received news that one of them passed away suddenly. He was one of my closest friends back then. Even though I haven’t had any quality time with him for thirty years, I still felt something dear and special in me was gone. Suddenly, there was a sense of lost and disorientation. My cousin called me. It so happened that he was part of my class too. I haven’t heard his voice for ten years. He called and was in tears. My departed friend had been his best friend all these years.

Mondays set the tone for the week. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to focus on what was left of it. Regardless of how I felt, I decided to meet with our homeless youth. I was hoping to see Daniel or even Wanderson. I haven’t seen or talked with them for weeks. They weren’t around yet. I dropped by Felipe’s residence. Most of the people were hanging around outside the building. There is still a recommendation for social distancing. However, almost everyone, including Felipe and his family, here lives in a tiny windowless room. We cannot expect a family of five or six to be cooped up in small spaces all day. Felipe was among them.

We went together to where the teens usually beg. Only Bruno was there. His first question was whether I was aware of a tragic incident in the streets. Last week, one of the teens died suddenly. I heard it from Felipe but Bruno just received the news. Obviously, everyone was shocked. The young man just collapsed while talking to the other teens. Apparently, his heart just gave out on him. His name was Maxwell. He was a little different. Mary and I used to joke that he always looked grumpy. It was true and even Bruno and Felipe admitted this. He hardly smiled. He hardly talked to us too. Then one day, he came up to us and asked us if we wanted to play a game with him. It was his first contact with us. Strangely, he pronounced our names perfectly even though he never spoke to us. Our names, as common as they might be in an English speaking culture, are a rarity here and quite difficult for the local tongue. On top of that, we were surprised that he wanted to do anything with us. We gladly obliged. The next few days, he looked for us to play a game. Then one day, it happened. He smiled and even laughed. He decided to let his guard down. After this, he was extra respectful to us and always greeted us. We had brief moments with this young man but they were genuine moments. It was powerful enough to leave an impression in our souls. Maxwell is now gone but there were many tears shed for him. Thankfully, he did not leave this world as an invisible person. His absence was strongly felt in our hearts. Before I left home, I checked my phone for messages. Guilherme who has been home for the past few weeks wrote to me. He asked if I knew that Maxwell had passed away. He must have just heard the news. He needed to share it with someone else. This is what happens what someone dear leaves us. We want the whole world to know and mourn the person’s departure. However, the rest of the world were too busy to notice Maxwell’s absence. They have never seen him smile.

Whenever I read about above gospel reading on the feeding of the five thousand, I am struck by the disciples’ response. My understanding has matured over the years. I used to read with a self-righteous perspective secretly chiding the disciples for their lack of faith in Jesus’ capabilities. Then, I thought maybe it has something to do with having a more positive outlook and not disregarding what we have to offer. Now, I am beginning to feel that it is a realistic assessment of life. When we look at this world with all its immense needs and problems, there is really little which can be done. Whatever we attempt to do will be like trying to feed thousands with hungry souls with five loaves and two fish. Unfortunately for us, we don’t have Jesus with us all the time to multiply our meager offerings. Sometimes, our five loaves just remain as five loaves. They just don’t simply multiply.

Maxwell is gone and he won’t come back. He lived his whole life in the streets. There is a documentary floating around somewhere about his life. A filmmaker decided to focus on Maxwell when he met him on the streets. He wanted to accompany the life journey of this young man. This is how we first met him about 8 years ago. He was in the midst of a film crew and he was the grumpiest looking character there. He was born into a family that was homeless. He never had a chance. Maxwell is one of the countless people in this situation. They are more than five thousand. Maybe there are at least two million people who are considered so poor that they are called the “miserable” class. If Jesus were to ask us to feed these people, we wouldl realize that all our resources amount to nothing but five loaves and two fish in comparison with the immensity of the problem facing us. However, it doesn’t mean that our offerings are pointless.

Perhaps, the most important lesson is that what we have to offer is enough. Maybe it is not about our offering but rather our availability. If we are willing to give ourselves regardless of who we are or what we have, then we might open ourselves for something to happen. Despite being in the same school and class, my childhood friend and I did not have a lot in common. He was from a well off family and I was from the working class. We lived in different neighborhoods. He had his own circle of friends who were very different from mine. However, he was available to me and I was to him. Then a miracle occurred. We became eternally united in our souls. Likewise, Maxwell came from a world which gave him very little reason to smile or laugh. He suffered from malnutrition which stunted his growth. Despite all this, he availed himself. At first, only to a limited group. Then he opened himself to us. He was able to smile in our presence. We are grateful to God for this moment. It may not seem much to the outside world. For us, it was a miracle. Now, this is how we will remember Maxwell.

This last Monday made me feel a little impoverished. However, it doesn’t mean that I have nothing to offer. I will always have five loaves to spare and for Jesus, this will suffice to create eternal bonds within our souls.

R.I.P. Maxwell and Warren

Grant Thy eternal rest unto these thy children, O Lord and let Thy perpetual Light shine upon them.