By Fr. Paul D. Scalia.

"Dismiss the crowd so that they can go to the surrounding villages and farms and find lodging and provisions; for we are in a deserted place here." The Apostles have a point. The crowds had followed Jesus out into the country, away from the towns and villages. Ironically, it was Jesus Himself who had decided to go with His Apostles to a deserted place to escape the crowds and the busyness of the towns. (Cf. Mark 6:31) But the crowds followed and now found themselves in need of food.

That is the context for one of our Lord's most important miracles, the only one recorded by all four evangelists. The whole scene is Eucharistic, of course. But the setting and context of the miracle - worked for people who had followed Him into the desert - indicates a particular dimension of the Eucharist. It is food for the journey. And that in turn reveals a profound connection between the Eucharist and the virtue of hope, the focus of this Jubilee Year.

Hebrews describes hope as "an anchor, sure and firm, which reaches into the interior behind the veil." (Hebrews 6:19) It's a curious kind of anchor, that stabilizes us not where we are but where we are going to be. It secures us where He is and draws us upward. This corresponds to the description of hope as "already but not yet." By way of hope in Christ, we are already anchored in Heaven, where He is seated at the right hand of the Father. Thus, hope is certain and does not disappoint. Yet at the same time, we have not yet reached our goal and still look to it for inspiration.

The Eucharist bears these same traits. Our reception of Holy Communion in effect anchors us in Heaven. At that moment, we are already united with Jesus in risen and glorified Body. Thus, Saint Thomas calls the Eucharist the "pledge of future glory." It is a piece of Heaven (so to speak) given to us already here on earth that draws us upward to where we are not yet fully. It is not yet the fullness of His glory, only the pledge of it. Likewise in adoration, we already gaze upon Him under the veil of bread and wine - but we do not yet see Him face to face.

Hope is also referred to as the virtue of the wayfarer and pilgrim. It is designed, so to speak, for those who have set out on the way. It thus strengthens us on our pilgrimage through this world. When we know with a certainty of His victory and trust in His promises for grace and glory, then we can make our way more courageously and joyfully through the challenges of this valley of tears.

This also means that hope makes no sense apart from the journey, apart from striving for Heaven's glory. One reason our world lacks hope is because it has given up on the journey. In a bitter irony, the more we have confined ourselves to this world, and become comfortable and complacent here, the more hopeless we've become. The virtue of hope atrophies if it is not exercised in a striving for Heaven.

So also the Eucharist is meant for travelers - and no others. When a priest brings Holy Communion to the dying, we call it viaticum - food for the journey. In that specific circumstance, the Eucharist is clearly the nourishment the soul needs to journey from this world to the next. But in a broader sense, it is always viaticum, always nourishment for the pilgrim, food for the journey.

This is what the Apostles call our attention to in today's Gospel. The crowds were wayfarers and pilgrims of a sort. They had followed Christ out into a deserted place. They had journeyed for His teaching and healing - for Him. They needed nourishment precisely because they had chosen to follow Him rather than remaining in place, because they preferred the desert with Him to the towns with food.

In the sequence for this feast, Saint Thomas writes of the Eucharist as cibus viatórum - food for the travelers or "pilgrims' food." The current translation renders this line as food "for the pilgrim who has striven." Which doesn't quite capture the meaning. The Eucharist is not given to the...