“And the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world”

Growing up in high school, my family ran a small bakery shop just beside our house. I remember being greeted every morning with the wonderful smell of freshly baked pan de sal that had just been taken out in the oven. During weekends, I would gaze with curiosity and awe at the minute details of how a dough is made and processed; how it finally ends up in becoming good-tasting bread. Occasionally with the baker’s guidance and instructions, I would participate in the making of the bread; beginning from the mixing of the necessary ingredients, kneading the dough when it is formed, cutting it into the prescribed weight and sizes and finally letting the dough be cooked into the oven. The rest would be putting the bread into display for people to purchase them. There was a special feeling of pride and gladness in seeing people buying and eating the bread on which I had spent some amount of labor.
Situated a stone-throw away from our house was a slum area where most of my childhood playmates and friends reside. One time, I invited some of them to come over at our house. Upon arriving, I pleaded to my mom to give them free bread to eat. I did that because I know for a fact that these guys were always hungry, some who in their houses have barely even something to eat. On that day, there was again that special feeling of pride and gladness in being able to share our bread to the poor of our neighborhood.
Reflecting on the gospel of today wherein Jesus reveals himself to us that He is the bread of life brought back my own memories of making and sharing bread with other people. Yet while pondering God’s word, I noticed that the familiar feeling of pride and gladness that I have felt before are gone. It dawned on me that when I compare my own act of sharing bread to my friends, with that of Jesus giving himself as bread to others, my efforts were of little value. Although I honor that positive sense in me to be thoughtful of others, I am guilty of the fact that that my acts of giving were blemished with impure intentions and immature motivations. In hindsight, part of my being generous was to please my friends. I was giving because I expected something in return. It was certainly convenient for me to give off something that did not really matter that much at that time. In the midst of my attitude of seemingly being generous, was the guilty presence of selfishness.
Jesus is totally otherwise. While I give out of convenience and excess, He gives until it hurts. He has even given his own life just so that others may have life, just so that I may have a true and meaningful life. He lets himself be vulnerable. He has suffered and endured pain. What a great love! I realize that this is what true love really means. It is when I am willing to sacrifice, to be vulnerable, to be helpless, to suffer even to the extent of laying down my own life for the sake of the other, only then will I gain the right to say that I am truly giving—that I am truly loving.
In the initial days of my noviciate journey, I felt displaced and unsecure. The sacrifice of throwing away life’s conveniences, of being away from my loved ones, made no sense. I struggled. I was unsure of how long will I last. I questioned God, “Is this the best way for me to love?” Unknowingly, those doubts, fears and pains were God’s ways of telling what generosity and love truly means. Give up your own self. Love until it hurts. I realize now that I am like a dough in the hands of a baker who kneads, cuts and transforms the dough into bread. God is now the baker. As I see it, Jesus is transforming my life.
The giving of his own life has given me new life. My noviciate life is my way of returning the favor and passing on his example.