The Echo of the Loaves and the Fish 

Those who know me know that I have a vivid imagination. 

Today, as I was meditating on the third Luminous Mystery of the Rosario —“the preaching of the Kingdom of Heaven”—an image took hold in my mind: the Gospel scene of the feeding of the five thousand. Almost immediately, inevitably, the memory took me back to the days we shared and enjoyed in Spain together with the Leo XIV.

The Gospel tells us that the crowd settled down in groups on the grass. Jesus blessed those five loaves and two fish that someone in the crowd had brought forward. An almost ridiculous gesture if we listen to the skeptical whisper of reason: “What is this among so many people?”.

I pictured a scene—very similar to some images I hold in my memory—: Jesus himself, carrying a basket full of bread, walking among the crowds. A smile played on his face as the people welcomed him with a mixture of awe, gratitude, and deep devotion. I imagine them leaping to their feet, crowding at the edges of their group, reaching out with the sole desire to touch—even if only for an instant—the hem of his cloak.

Isn't this exactly what we've seen happening over and over again, like an echo, these past few days on the streets of Madrid, Barcelona, and the Canary Islands?

There was Pope Leo XIV, cheerfully making his way through the crowds, pausing just long enough to stroke a baby’s forehead, while the throng pressed against the barriers, hoping to snatch a second of closeness with the Pontiff. That biblical scene resonates with the Sermon on the Mount, that moment when Christ revealed the Good News to the world. In the same way, in each of his actions, the Pope has sought to emphasize the pillars of the Christian faith. And we, just like those who surrounded Jesus, have absorbed his words with emotion, gratitude, and a deep desire to respond to them.

Hasn’t that been the heartbeat of Spain these past few days? A sincere gratitude, a stirring of the heart at the voice of the Vice-Christ on Earth. I am convinced that from these encounters have sprung intimate promises of greater dedication and generosity; a genuine urgency to become true apostles within this Church that goes forth. What profound joy!

The Moment of Truth

However, after the Sermon on the Mount, my mind inevitably turns to the sixth chapter of the Gospel of St. John. Jesus“ words echo in my mind: ”I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever. And the bread that I will give is my flesh, so that the world may have life.”. 

At that moment, many were scandalized and turned their backs on him. Seeing the crowd scatter, Christ himself asked his disciples if they, too, wanted to leave. It was then that Peter broke the silence with a beautiful act of faith: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”. 

Now that the Pope has left, it’s time to return to our routine, to face reality without the warmth of the crowd. As always, the moment of the sifting will come. It’s clear that many will remain faithful at Jesus« side, following the example of the Apostles. For others, however, the Parable of the Sower will come true: they will disappear without a trace because the message failed to take root, or because the path became too steep for them. Who knows. There will even be those who, swept along by the current and the »wisdom“ of the powerful of the day—the new members of the Sanhedrin—will end up shouting, ”Crucify him!” 

But the story doesn't end there. The day will come when many Jews of that time will once again look expectantly toward the Upper Room, and the Holy Spirit will come. And then, more than three thousand souls among those who heard them will be baptized. And upon hearing the Truth, many others will follow, and they will be able to transform the old pagan world. 

The same thing will happen in our time, because time and the world belong to God, and He has entrusted them to us so that we may transform and master them through Love. 

If I had Pope Leo XIV standing before me today, all I could do is thank him and tell him not to worry—even though I know full well that he lives by Christian optimism—about those who seem to be drifting away today; because in the end, everyone will return. And they won’t come alone: they’ll bring their friends with them.

“You can change history. Do it with love.”.