Tuesday after Epiphany

“Love That Does Not Send Them Away”

We’re still living in the light of Epiphany.
The light that reveals who Jesus is — not just to the Magi long ago, but to us now.

And today, that light shows us something very simple and very demanding:
love.

St. John doesn’t dance around it in the first reading.
“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God.”
Not advice.
Not a suggestion.
A statement of reality.

And then he goes further — love doesn’t begin with us.
“We love because He loved us first.”
That changes everything.

Christian love is not about being nicer people.
It’s not about sentiment or warm feelings.
It is about allowing God’s own life to move through us.

St. Augustine once said, “If you see charity, you see the Trinity.”
In other words, whenever real, self-giving love is present, God Himself is at work.

We see that very clearly in the Gospel.

Jesus looks out at the crowd and Mark tells us He is moved with compassion —
because they are like sheep without a shepherd.

Before He feeds them,
before He performs a miracle,
He stays with them.
He teaches them.
He sees them.

The disciples, on the other hand, see a problem to solve.

“It’s late.”
“There’s not enough.”
“Send them away.”

That line should sound familiar — because we say it in our own ways all the time.

I don’t have the patience.
I don’t have the time.
I don’t have the energy.
Someone else can handle this.

But Jesus doesn’t send the crowd away.
He turns to the disciples and says,
“You give them something to eat.”

And that’s where it gets uncomfortable — because love always does.

Five loaves.
Two fish.
Nowhere near enough.

But Jesus takes what they offer, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it back —
and somehow, it becomes more than enough.

That’s how divine love works.
It doesn’t wait until conditions are perfect.
It doesn’t wait until we feel ready.

It takes what is offered — even when it feels small —
and multiplies it.

St. Basil the Great once said something that still unsettles people today:
“The bread you keep belongs to the hungry;
the cloak you store away belongs to the naked.”

For Basil, love wasn’t optional for Christians.
It was the evidence that God had already touched their hearts.

And here’s the good news:
God never asks us to love on our own strength.

St. John is clear — love comes from God.
Which means when we feel like we don’t have enough,
that’s exactly the moment Jesus can work.

Sometimes the most Christian thing we can do
is simply not send someone away.

To stay.
To listen.
To give what little we have.

And today, we come to the altar and we watch Jesus do it again.

He takes bread.
He blesses it.
He breaks it.
He gives it.

And then He gives Himself to us —
so that His love can keep moving through the world.

So as we leave here today, the question isn’t:
Do I have enough to love like Christ?

The question is:
Am I willing to place what I have into His hands?

Because when we do,
God lives in us,
and His love is brought to perfection in us.

And that — more than any miracle —
is the true light of Epiphany.