If there is a principle at the heart of the consumer society, it is that we are never satisfied. We always want more. The object of people's hunger will vary according to circumstances; but once the basic necessities such as food, drink, warmth and shelter are met, other needs emerge. The need for human dignity, power, work, education, stimulation, inspiration, recreation. Then there is the deeper human need for hope, meaning in our lives, for faith, freedom and relationship. Mother Teresa always insisted that everyone's fundamental hunger is for love.

And if these deeper human needs (or spiritual needs as some call them) are not met, we seek compensation elsewhere: in money, popularity and success and to use relationships for purely selfish ends. But these forms of 'bread' will never satisfy us fully. We were created with a divine spark in us. Only a divine dimension will address our deepest needs.

As I said earlier, hungers differ from person to person, from country to country. The Church often asks to respond to the needs of our brothers and sisters in the Third world, for example. They are the hungry crowd today, literally. Like the disciples, we are often tempted to say: 'Send the people away and they can go to the villages to buy themselves some food.'

But this attitude is not confined to dealings with Third World people. We sometimes respond to more localised problems in a similar manner. When people approach us for help, we tend to refer them to experts. Sometimes of course this is an eminently sensible approach. But often I fear it is simply a washing our hands of the problem before our eyes. We see examples of this in dramatic disasters. Increasingly we see counsellors and empathises and experts in all aspects of the emotional life being bussed into disaster areas, intent of consoling and advising those even remotely involved. I am personally suspicious of such snatch squads. Surely each community has within itself the natural capacity of reassure, restore and to heal. Sometimes we simply feel inadequate to the task. Sometimes we are made to feel inadequate to the task. Experts are essential; but they can sometimes erode our own confidence in ourselves and our community. We can all nourish and give life to others no matter who we are or what our circumstances.

John the Baptist's death confronted Jesus with his own vulnerability. He knew that the carer must also be cared for. He instinctively withdrew from the crowds, sensing his need for space but even more his need for companionship. Never before was it so important to him to be able to relax with his friends, to share some time, no doubt a meal, and some laughter with them; to feel their care and support.

Ultimately though, the miracle of the loaves and fishes is simple but profound commentary on the dilemma of the human being: no human force, no manmade system, can address our deepest longings. It is in this overall context that we must recognise the wisdom of Jesus: hunger for the food that lasts forever, the Eucharist, Jesus Christ himself. His teachings absorb our deepest aspirations; his abiding presence will help us translate these ideals into our everyday lives.

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