19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B) -  “Eat, else the journey will be too long for you!”

Deacon Kevin, Deacon Lou, and I are working together to plan a two-evening program on End of Life Issues for this coming Fall.  (October 22 and 29 at 7:00 p.m.).  It will be a panel discussion with presentations by a deacon trained in Catholic medical ethics, a lawyer who will talk about common legal issues when someone approaches death and then dies (how one should make proper legal preparations in anticipation for one’s death), a funeral director who will speak about practical considerations regarding funeral planning and pre-planning a funeral, and I will speak about the importance of and the practical means for the pastoral care of the sick and the dying.  I give credit to Deacon Kevin for proposing the idea for this event.  He and his family had to deal with many of these issues when his father entered a memory-care facility some time ago suffering the debilitating effects of dementia and then died at the age of 95 in April of this year.  Death is something we will all have to face, and if we are not prepared both spiritually and practically (whether this is for ourselves or a loved one), it is a burden that seems too heavy to bear. 

          Getting old is not easy.  As one of my Italian friends says frequently, “La vecchiaia è una brutta bestia” (“Old age is ugly beast”).  He’s usually referring to his aches and pains and the physical things he can’t do the way he used to do when he was younger, but getting old is often hard spiritually, emotionally, and psychologically too because we are embodied persons.  Our physical state affects us spiritually, and our spiritual state impacts us physically, psychologically, and emotionally.  We are bodies and souls and need to care for our spiritual health as we age as well.  Many folks who become sick, suffer from a chronic illness, or become homebound or need to enter a care facility then face the spiritual and mental challenge of being more isolated from family, friends, and the community of faith which provided the spiritual nourishment in their lives.  Often the spiritual suffering (the effects of isolation) is much worse and harder to deal with than the physical suffering, and actually compounds it.  One might be in good physical health but find oneself separated from the community when one’s spouse or friend who was the driver or the more socially connected one dies or moves away.  I see this often with older widows, like my grandmother, who never drove.  When my grandfather died, it was much harder for her to get out of the house or even to go to church.  One is not committing a mortal sin if one misses Mass because of an infirmity or because one is stuck at home for lack of transportation, but the spiritual suffering from the isolation and the lack of communion made possible through the sacraments that the Lord gave us to strengthen us for the journey, makes life that much harder.  The grace of the sacraments and the companionship of our brothers and sisters in Christ helps us to bear the cross of suffering - both physical and spiritual suffering. 

          As with someone who loses a spouse suddenly or has an accident or the rapid onset of a debilitating disease, the suffering, depression, and lack of hope in the future can be particularly acute.  Life becomes physically and emotionally draining.  It is not uncommon for the person to even pray for death as a way to put an end to their suffering.  “Lord, take me!”  They don’t understand why they are still here.  It doesn’t seem fair.  The isolation and lack of ability to care for oneself (or care for others) makes the person question the value or meaning of his or her life.  I am often asked by people in that situation, “Is it OK to pray for death?”  “Is it a sin to pray for death?”  In our first reading, we hear the elderly prophet Elijah praying for death.  “This is enough, O Lord!  Take my life…”  Elijah has suffered a rather abrupt turn of events.  He was the lone faithful prophet left in Israel.  The Lord sent him to call the people to conversion who were leaving the faith and forsaking the commandments to follow false gods.  God answers his prayer after Elijah sets up a contest between himself and the false prophets.  The people come to their senses, return to right worship and say, “The Lord is God!”  The false prophets are slain.  Elijah is victorious.  But now there is a price on his head, and Elijah has to flee for his life.  He is only one day’s journey into the desert, and he is totally exhausted and discouraged.  He prays for death.  The Lord does not grant his wish.  Instead, the Lord sends him an angel to wake him up and to give him food for the journey.  It is sustenance sent from heaven.  The angel orders him, “Get up and eat, else the journey will be too long for you!”  The Lord has more plans for Elijah.  Elijah has to get to the mountain of God to hear the “still, small voice” of the Lord.  There, the Lord then tells him what to do to before Elijah is to be taken up to heaven.  He tells him also who will succeed him.  Strengthened by that food that came down from heaven, Elijah walked forty days and forty nights to get to the mountain of God.  “Forty days and forty nights” should remind us of the forty years that the Israelites wandered in the desert and the Lord fed them with quail and manna.  It was a time of testing and preparation before entering the “Promised Land”.  “Forty days and forty nights” should also remind us of the 40 days and nights that Jesus spent in the desert fasting and then being tempted by the devil.  Jesus answers the first temptation to satisfy his physical hunger by saying, “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God”  (Mt. 4:4).  The journey through this life, especially when dealing with sickness and infirmity, is a time of testing, and it is not a journey that can be sustained only by addressing our physical needs.  There is a great temptation to lose one’s faith when someone undergoes sickness and suffering.  We are very susceptible to all kinds of temptations when we are in a physically compromised state.  That is why the ministry to bring Holy Communion to the sick and the homebound is so important.  Frequent reception of Holy Communion for the sick and the dying brings the person to a deeper understanding of the mystery of their suffering in relation to the Paschal mystery of Christ and strengthens them for the journey.  Reception of Holy Communion keeps the sick and the homebound connected to the sacrifice and celebration of the Mass and to the community from which they were separated by illness or circumstance.  Ministry to the sick and homebound is also an expression of our support and concern for the members of our community who cannot come to Mass.  We hunger for a life that is greater than this one.  We hunger for eternal life.  And the food that sustains us for the journey to our heavenly homeland must be a food that comes down from heaven.  The food provided by the angel to Elijah and the manna in the desert for the Israelites are prefigurements of the Eucharist.  The difference as we hear Jesus say to the murmuring Jews in the Gospel is that, “Your ancestors ate the manna in the desert, but they died… 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 for the life of the world.”  Jesus is the Word of the Father.  He is the Eternal Word spoken by the Father that has become flesh.  He is the bread of life.  He is the food for eternal life. 

          If you know someone from our parish who is sick or homebound and can no longer come to Mass, please encourage them to call the parish and to ask for someone to bring them Holy Communion.  If your mom or dad or other relative was a regular mass goer and is now homebound, please call their parish for them and arrange for the priest or the Extraordinary minister to come for a regular visit.  If you find yourself homebound, do not hesitate to call the parish.  This is not a bother for the priest.  We are never “too busy” to care for the sick and the homebound.  Pastoral care for the sick and the dying is not only one of the most important ministries of the church but also the most rewarding.  The one who brings the Eucharist to the sick and the homebound sees the difference that Jesus makes in their lives - both spiritually and physically.  It strengthens our faith in the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist when we experience the difference that regular Communion makes for the person - how grateful they are and renewed in spirit when Jesus comes to visit.  Sadly, too many people wait until their loved one is literally breathing his or her last breaths before they call the priest.  At that point, most often the person is unable to receive Holy Communion because they can no longer swallow or are not conscious.  Neither can they make a last confession.  Many people “hang on” because they are afraid of dying or they have unresolved issues.  It is not doing the person a favor to delay calling the priest - thinking the presence of the priest will scare them or make them think they have no more hope for life.  The priest comes with the sacraments to give the person comfort in their trial and hope for eternal life  - so that they are not afraid of death.  Many times I have been called to someone’s death bed and the person dies shortly after they receive the sacraments.  The family will say, “Father, you got here just in time.”  And I’ll say to the family, “No, they were waiting for Jesus.”  They were waiting for the food needed to strengthen them for the journey - for the passage through death to eternal life.  If you can do anything for your loved ones who are sick or dying, do not let them wait for Jesus.  Be an “angel” and bring them the food and nourishment they need for the journey.  I also invite any parishioner to talk to me or to one of the deacons about becoming an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion to help us to bring the Eucharist to the sick and the homebound in the parish.  You will help others to “taste and see the goodness of the Lord” and to see for yourself how the answer to the temptation to death is Jesus, the bread of life. 

XIX Domingo del Tiempo Ordinario (B) - “¡Comed, de lo contrario el viaje os será demasiado largo!

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B) - The “test” before the multiplication of the loaves

When Jesus sees the large crowd, he said to Philip, “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?”  He said this to test him, because he himself knew what he was going to do.”  The miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and the fishes is not a miracle that Jesus works simply to fix a problem that he and the disciples find themselves in.  This miracle is set up as a “test” for Philip and the other disciples.  What is the test?  Jesus is seeing how the disciples respond to a situation that is beyond their capabilities.  When Philip assesses the situation, he judges that there is nothing that they can do because what would be required is too expensive.  He says, “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little.”  Andrew, likewise, looks at the five barley loaves and two fish that they have and says, “what good are these for so many?”  Their resources couldn’t make a dent in addressing the problem or the great need before them, so they think there is nothing they can do.  Why bother to give it because it won’t make a difference!  We can say that there is a fear that if they give what they have, it will be wasted or cause an even bigger problem than the one before them at the moment.  In the first reading from the second Book of Kings, when a man brings to Elisha twenty barley loaves as his “first fruits” offering, Elisha’s servant makes a similar objection when Elisha tells him to give it to the people to eat.  The servant says, “How can I set this before a hundred people?”  He is afraid of being embarrassed by the meagerness of the offering - that it won’t suffice.  The servant in the first reading and the disciples see the little that they have, and they resist giving when the Lord is proposing to them an opportunity to give.  But the Lord is saying at this moment, “the little that you have, the little that you give, will be enough. In fact, it will be more than enough, if you give it to me.”  The hesitation of the disciples to give and their method of calculation is contrasted with the boy who freely offers his five barley loaves and two fish in an effort to help those in need.  Barley loaves were the staple food of the poor.  The poor, little child, is the one who freely gives, without counting the cost.  Elisha’s insistence to the servant, “Give it to the people to eat” as well as the Lord’s command, “Have the people recline” in response to Andrew’s objection, is an invitation to have faith.    Jesus receives the little that is offered to him and gives thanks to God before distributing the loaves to the people.  When we look at the the little that we have, do we give thanks to God?  Without this fundamental attitude of gratitude for whatever we are given, recognizing that all we have is a gift from God, we will cling to what we have.  The problem is that we focus on the lack and not on God.  So we are stuck and feel helpless.  Charitable giving has its roots in gratitude.  If we don’t see what we have as a gift from God (and give thanks), we will not be moved to give.  We’ll be afraid to give.  The boy who gives the loaves and the fish is a witness to someone who is “poor in spirit”, i.e., someone who recognizes that everything he has is a gift, and, therefore, he is free to give. 

          I want to share a story about how my family and my father (whose name is also Philip) were put to the test in a way similar to the disciples.  It was an event that in many ways changed the direction of my life.  I grew up in a family of devout, practicing Catholics.  We lived in the country, and our parish did not have a Catholic school.  In this rural county in Pennsylvania, the nearest Catholic school was over a half-hour away, and there was no busing.  So I went to the local public school.  Being Italian-Catholic in an area where most of the families were German Protestants, our family was very much in the minority.  I didn’t “fit it” culturally speaking.  It hurt and I didn’t understand why I wasn’t part of the “in” friend group of the popular kids.  I did well in school but didn’t enjoy school very much.  By the time I got to high school, things got much worse.  I wasn’t being challenged academically, the teachers did not require much homework, and the bullying and the lack of discipline in the school only increased.  My parents could tell that I was suffering. 

          A friend of our family who, like my parents, was an educator in the public school system, suggested that my parents look into sending me to a private preparatory school for boys.  The school was an elite boarding school about an hour away from where we lived.  It was a place where the rich and upper-class sent their sons.  Talk about a very different culture than the working class community of farmers and factory workers where I lived!  And the tuition - it was no different than going to a major university and paying for room and board.  There was no way my parents could afford to send me to this school.  Would I fit in any more there than at the public school I attended?  My parents and I took a tour of the school and met with the admissions director.  I filled out the application, took the admissions test, and a few weeks later found out I was accepted.  The school was very impressive and the people were very nice, but the school just seemed “out of our league.”  We met with the admissions director again, and I’m sure he could read the the expression on my parents’ faces.  He said to them, “Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Forlano.  Your son will do fine here.  He belongs here.”  And then he insisted,  “We want your son to come here.  I will talk with the business office, and we will make it work for you.”

          It would be a financial sacrifice to pay for tuition compared with going to public school for free, but my parents made the commitment.  They stepped out in faith.  I transferred into the school half-way through my first year of high school.  It was a bit of a culture shock for me, and I was very homesick my first weeks there.  But with the discipline of a dress code and an organized schedule of meals, classes, chapel services, athletics, study time, recreation, and even “lights out” for bedtime, I began to thrive.  What I appreciated most at the time was that those who excelled academically were not made fun of but were respected and looked up to.  Looking back, it was the “human formation” in a family environment or “culture” where virtue, respect, and academic excellence were fostered that made a difference in my life and allowed me to flourish as a student and a person.  I formed in that school good life habits that made the challenge of going away to college much less challenging.  Even entering the structure and schedule of the seminary when I entered four years after college was not a hard transition for me because of the formation I received at the boarding school.  I trace so many blessings in my life back to that act of faith before the “impossible” that my parents made for me.

          A good educational foundation that “educates the whole person” and is not just concerned with academics and job training (in order to get a well-paying job), is what will make the next generation succeed, not just in the work force, but in life.  Almost forty years after I transferred into that private high school, the Lord has put me in a position where I can offer to families (not much different than the family I came from) the same opportunity I had for a better education.  Many people in our community do not think a Catholic education is possible for them because “they cannot afford it.”  They think that what they have to give to their child’s education is not enough, so they don’t even consider it.  I am saying to anyone who thinks that way the same thing Mr. Reese, the admissions director, said to my parents, “Don’t worry, your son or daughter will do well at St. Charles.  They belong here.  We want them to come here, and we will make it possible for you.”  I’m insisting and inviting them to see what the Lord will do - how the Lord will bless them and their children abundantly if they respond to this opportunity.  My parents were very grateful for that invitation and opportunity that was given to them and to me.  It wasn’t easy to make that commitment, but I am so grateful that they did. 

          In the first reading, the man brought to Elisha the “first fruits” of his harvest.  The “first fruits” is the first portion of the harvest.  It is given to God as an act of thanksgiving and trust.  It was usually sacrificed or burnt on the altar.  It looks like it is being wasted.  But this gesture says, “Lord, I recognize that you give me everything.  I trust that you provide for all my needs.  I trust you so much that I can give and still know that I’ll have more than enough to eat.  You provide for all my needs and more.”  We understand tithing or what we give to the church in the same way.  We keep Sunday as a day of rest dedicated to the Lord for the same reason.  I don’t have to work all the time in order to survive or to provide for my family.  I can rest on the first day, and you Lord, will provide for all my needs.  Tithing and charitable giving are acts of thanksgiving which, when done in faith, reveal God’s presence and deepen our faith in his providential care for us.  Where is the Lord challenging us today in this regard?  Where is he “putting us to the test”?  Where is he asking us to give and to trust in areas that to our eyes seem impossible?  Let’s not let the little we have and our worldly calculation get in the way of the Lord feeding us and those entrusted to our care.

XVII Domingo del Tiempo Ordinario (B) - La “prueba” antes de la multiplicación de los panes

“Viendo Jesús que mucha gente lo seguía, le dijo a Felipe: ‘¿Cómo compraremos pan para que coman éstos?’  Le hizo esta pregunta para ponerlo a prueba, pues él bien sabía lo que iba a hacer.”  El milagro de la multiplicación de los panes y los pescados no es un milagro que Jesús realiza simplemente para solucionar un problema en el que se encuentran él y los discípulos. Este milagro se presenta como una “prueba” para Felipe y los demás discípulos. ¿Cuál es la prueba? Jesús está viendo cómo responden los discípulos a una situación que está más allá de sus capacidades. Cuando Felipe evalúa la situación, juzga que no hay nada que puedan hacer porque lo que se requeriría es demasiado caro. Dice: “Ni doscientos denarios bastarían para que a cada uno le tocara un pedazo de pan”. Andrés, un otro discípulo, de la misma manera, mira los cinco panes de cebada y los dos pescados que tienen y dice: “¿qué es eso para tanta gente?”  Sus recursos no podían hacer mella en abordar el problema o la gran necesidad que tenían ante ellos, por lo que piensan que no hay nada que puedan hacer. ¿Por qué molestarse en darlo, si no hará ninguna diferencia?  Podemos decir que existe el temor de que si dan lo que tienen, se desperdicie o cause un problema aún mayor que el que tienen ante ellos en ese momento.  En la primera lectura del segundo Libro de los Reyes, cuando un hombre trae a Eliseo veinte panes de cebada como su ofrenda de “primicias”, el criado de Eliseo hace una objeción similar cuando Eliseo le dice que se los dé a la gente para comer. El criado dice: “¿Cómo voy a repartir estos panes entre cien hombres?” Tiene miedo de sentirse avergonzado por la escasez de la ofrenda, de que no sea suficiente. El criado en la primera lectura y los discípulos ven lo poco que tienen, y se resisten a dar cuando el Señor les propone una oportunidad de dar. Pero el Señor está diciendo en este momento: “lo poco que tienes, lo poco que des, será suficiente. De hecho, será más que suficiente, si me lo das”. La vacilación de los discípulos a la hora de dar y su método de cálculo contrastan con el muchacho que ofrece libremente sus cinco panes de cebada y dos pescados en un esfuerzo por ayudar a los necesitados. Los panes de cebada eran el alimento básico de los pobres. El niño pobre es el que da libremente, sin contar el costo. La insistencia de Eliseo al criado: “Dáselos a la gente para que coman”, así como la orden del Señor: “Díganle a la gente que se siente” en respuesta a la objeción de Andrés, es una invitación a tener fe.  Jesús recibe lo poco que se le ofrece y da gracias a Dios antes de repartir los panes a la gente. Cuando miramos lo poco que tenemos, ¿damos gracias a Dios?  Sin esta actitud fundamental de gratitud por lo que se nos da, reconociendo que todo lo que tenemos es un regalo de Dios, nos aferraremos a lo que tenemos. El problema es que nos centramos en lo que falta y no en Dios.  Así que estamos estancados y nos sentimos impotentes. La donación caritativa tiene sus raíces en la gratitud. Si no vemos lo que tenemos como un regalo de Dios (y no damos gracias), no nos sentiremos impulsados ​​a dar. Tendremos miedo de dar. El muchacho que da los panes y los pescados es testigo de alguien que es “pobre en espíritu”, es decir, alguien que reconoce que todo lo que tiene es un regalo y, por lo tanto, es libre de dar.

          Quiero compartir una historia sobre cómo mi familia y mi padre (que también se llama Felipe) fueron puestos a prueba de una manera similar a la de los discípulos.  Fue un evento que en muchos sentidos cambió el rumbo de mi vida. Crecí en una familia de católicos devotos y practicantes. Vivíamos en el campo y nuestra parroquia no tenía una escuela católica. En este condado rural de Pensilvania, la escuela católica más cercana estaba a más de media hora de distancia y no había autobús. Entonces fui a la escuela pública local. Al ser italo-católico en una zona donde la mayoría de las familias eran protestantes alemanas, nuestra familia era una minoría. No “encajaba” culturalmente hablando. Me dolió y no entendí por qué no era parte del grupo de chicos populares. Me fue bien en la escuela pero no la disfruté mucho. Cuando llegué a la escuela secundaria, las cosas empeoraron mucho. No me estaban desafiando académicamente, los profesores no me dejaban suficiente tarea y el acoso y la falta de disciplina en la escuela solo aumentaron. Mis padres se dieron cuenta de que estaba sufriendo.

          Una amiga de nuestra familia que, como mis padres, era educador en el sistema de escuelas públicas, sugirió que mis padres consideraran enviarme a una escuela preparatoria privada para niños. La escuela era un internado de élite a aproximadamente una hora de donde vivíamos. Era un lugar donde los ricos y la clase alta enviaban a sus hijos. ¡Que diferencia cultural con la comunidad de clase trabajadora de agricultores y trabajadores de fábricas de donde yo vivía!  Y la matrícula no era diferente a ir a una universidad importante y pagar alojamiento y comida. No había manera de que mis padres pudieran permitirse el lujo de enviarme a esta escuela. ¿Encajaría allí mejor que en la escuela pública a la que asistía?  Mis padres y yo hicimos un recorrido por la escuela y nos reunimos con el director de admisiones. Completé la solicitud, tomé el examen de admisión y unas semanas después descubrí que había sido aceptado. La escuela era muy impresionante y la gente era muy amable, pero la escuela parecía “fuera de nuestra liga”. Nos reunimos nuevamente con el director de admisiones y estoy seguro de que pudo leer la expresión en los rostros de mis padres. Les dijo: “No se preocupen, señor y señora Forlano. A su hijo le irá bien aquí. Él pertenece aquí.” Y insistió, “Queremos que su hijo venga aquí. Hablaré con la oficina de ayuda financiera y haremos que funcione para usted”.

          Sería un sacrificio financiero pagar la matrícula en comparación a ir gratis a la escuela pública, pero mis padres se comprometieron.  Ellos salieron en fe.  Me transferí a la escuela a mitad de mi primer año de secundaria.  Fue un poco un choque cultural para mí, y sentí mucha nostalgia durante las primeras semanas allí. Pero con una nueva nivel de disciplina que incluía un código de vestimenta, un horario organizado de comidas, clases, servicios religiosos, deportes, tiempo de estudio, recreación e incluso un mandato de “apagar las luces” a la hora de dormir, comencé a prosperar. Lo que más aprecié en ese momento fue que aquellos que sobresalían académicamente no eran objeto de burla, sino que eran respetados y admirados. Mirando hacia atrás, fue la “formación humana” en un ambiente familiar o “cultura” donde se fomentaban la virtud, el respeto y la excelencia académica lo que marcó la diferencia en mi vida y me permitió prosperar como estudiante y como persona. En esa escuela formé buenos hábitos de vida que hicieron que el desafío de ir a la universidad fuera mucho menos desafiante. Incluso entrar en la estructura y el horario del seminario cuando entré cuatro años después de la universidad no fue una transición difícil para mí gracias a la formación que recibí en el internado.  Atribuyo muchas bendiciones de mi vida a ese acto de fe ante lo “imposible” que mis padres hicieron para mí.

          Una buena base educativa que “eduque a toda la persona” y no sólo se preocupe por lo académico y la capacitación laboral (para conseguir un trabajo bien remunerado), es lo que hará que la próxima generación tenga éxito, no sólo en la fuerza laboral, sino en la vida.  Casi cuarenta años después de haberme transferido a esa escuela secundaria privada, el Señor me ha puesto en una posición en la que puedo ofrecer a familias (no muy diferentes a la familia de la que vengo) la misma oportunidad que yo tuve de una mejor educación. Muchas personas en nuestra comunidad no creen que una educación católica sea posible para ellos porque “no pueden pagarla”. Piensan que lo que tienen que dar para la educación de sus hijos no es suficiente, por lo que ni siquiera lo consideran.  A cualquiera que piense de esa manera le digo lo mismo que el Sr. Reese, el director de admisiones, le dijo a mis padres: “No se preocupen, a su hijo o hija le irá bien en San Carlos. Pertenecen aquí. Queremos que vengan aquí y haremos que sea posible para ustedes”.  Insisto y los invito a ver lo que el Señor hará, cómo el Señor los bendecirá a ellos y a sus hijos abundantemente si responden a esta oportunidad. Mis padres estaban muy agradecidos por esa invitación y oportunidad que se les dio a ellos y a mí. No fue fácil asumir ese compromiso, pero estoy muy agradecido de que lo hayan hecho.

          En la primera lectura, el hombre trajo a Eliseo las “primicias” de su cosecha. Las “primicias” son la primera porción de la cosecha. Se le da a Dios como un acto de agradecimiento y confianza.  Por lo general, se sacrificaba o se quemaba en el altar.  Parece que se está desperdiciando. Pero este gesto dice: “Señor, reconozco que me das todo. Confío en que provees para todas mis necesidades. Confío tanto en ti que puedo dar y aún así saber que tendré más que suficiente para comer.  Tú provees para todas mis necesidades y más”.  Entendemos el diezmo o lo que damos a la iglesia de la misma manera. Guardamos el domingo como un día de descanso dedicado al Señor por la misma razón.  Estoy diciendo en este acto, “No tengo que trabajar todo el tiempo para sobrevivir o para mantener a mi familia. Puedo descansar el primer día, y tú, Señor, proveerás para todas mis necesidades.”  El diezmo y las donaciones caritativas son actos de acción de gracias que, cuando se hacen con fe, revelan la presencia de Dios y profundizan nuestra fe en su cuidado providencial por nosotros. ¿En qué aspectos nos desafía hoy el Señor?  ¿En qué aspectos nos «pone a prueba»?  ¿En qué aspectos nos pide que demos y confiemos en áreas que a nuestros ojos parecen imposibles?  No permitamos que lo poco que tenemos y nuestros cálculos mundanos impidan que el Señor nos alimente a nosotros y a quienes nos han sido confiados.  ¡Que Dios los bendiga!