By Ron Bruni
Their real problem was not a lack of bread in Tuesday’s reading on the Apostles in the boat, but spiritual amnesia: forgetting what Jesus had already done. But he doesn’t rebuke them for lacking bread; he rebukes them for lacking memory. Today’s passages confront what seems like a common human struggle: forgetting God’s faithfulness when pressure mounts and mistaking hardship for abandonment rather than for formation. But when you think about it, this is not just their story, it’s ours.
Tuesday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time
James 1:12-18
Mark 8:14-21
This week’s readings come from the first book of James, Psalm 94, and a passage from Mark’s gospel, chapter 8. They all share a unifying theme: How God uses trials in moments of apparent lack to expose our hearts, mature our faith, and teach us to trust his faithful provision rather than our own understanding.
Each of today’s passages approaches this theme from a different angle. In James’s epistle, he teaches that trials are not temptations from God but opportunities for perseverance that lead to spiritual maturity. God is consistently good. He gives, not deceives.
In Psalm 94, he reflects on suffering as discipline, not punishment, but rather, loving instruction that steadies the soul and assures us that God will not abandon his people.
In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is sitting alongside his disciples in a boat. They seem to be bickering among themselves and exhibiting anxiety; however, their worry is not about storms, not about persecution, not even about death. They forgot the bread! One loaf for 12 men, a long journey ahead, what else is there to think of?!
Well, for one thing, Jesus, the person who had just miraculously fed 4000 and 5000 in 2 recent extraordinary episodes, is sitting right there next to them. seeming oblivious to the disciples. Their real problem was not lack of bread, but spiritual amnesia: forgetting what Jesus had already done. But he doesn’t rebuke them for lacking bread; he rebukes them for lacking memory. Together, the passages confront what seems like a common human struggle: forgetting God’s faithfulness when pressure mounts and mistaking hardship for abandonment rather than for formation. But when you think about it, this is not just their story, it’s ours.
In his Epistle, James tells us that “Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial.” Not the one who escapes it. Not the one who avoids it. But the one who remains faithful in it. Trials are like spiritual X-rays. They don’t create; they bring them to the forefront and expose them. When resources and sunny skies disappear, do we trust God or panic? When answers are delayed, do we pray to God or accuse Him of spiritual deafness? When life hurts, do we lean in or drift away? James makes it clear: God does not tempt us with evil. He is not the author of our downfall; the struggle exposes desires already at work in us, especially the desire for control.
Let me share a personal story that, looking back, I now recognize as a moment when I, too, forgot the bread.
My family came to this country from Italy in 1909, eventually settling in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. I was an only child, raised with love and care, and I never lacked what I truly needed. Like many immigrant families, we believed deeply in hard work, sacrifice, and gratitude. Becoming a physician was not just my dream; it was something my family instilled in me as a calling.
By the time I reached my sophomore year in college, finances were tight. All three of us were working to make it possible for me to stay in school. Still, I believed I was on the path God had set before me.
Then everything changed.
My father fell from a high ladder while working. He was knocked unconscious, suffered a fractured skull, and a brain bleed that left him deaf in his right ear and in a coma. In that single moment, the future I had carefully imagined for myself. seemed to collapse. It looked as though my father’s life and my dream of becoming a physician were both slipping away.
I remember going into the campus chapel at Seton Hall University and praying desperately for my father’s life. Still, I also questioned God about why and how this could happen. In that moment, like the disciples in the boat, I was focused on what was missing, on fear, uncertainty, and loss, rather than on the many blessings God had already given me.
Psalm 94 says, “When cares increase within me, your consolation brought me joy.” But at the time, all I could see was the storm.
In my grief, I made a promise to God. I prayed that if my father’s life were spared, I would become a physician and dedicate my work to caring for God’s children as a pediatrician. My father lingered between life and death for a week. Hope slowly faded. I felt tested, shaken, and worn down, much as James writes that perseverance is born through trial. Then, just when I had nearly given up, my father woke from his coma and spoke. His recovery was long and complex, but he survived. And he lived to see my promise fulfilled.
Only later did I understand what that season had taught me. God had not tempted me with evil, as James reminds us; He had strengthened my faith through trial. When my heart was troubled and anxious, God’s consolation sustained me. And when I thought there was no” bread” left, no future, no way out of the situation, Jesus was still next to me “in the boat.”
Like the disciples, I remembered the fruits of my faith, but in that moment, I forgot their meaning. And yet God remained faithful, patient, and present.
That experience taught me this: blessing often comes through testing, and remembrance restores trust. When we stop fixating on what we lack and remember who walks with us, we begin to understand. And sometimes, the most extraordinary grace is realizing, after the storm, that God never left us, even when we forgot the bread.