May 4, 2014: Third Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:14-22-33: Peter said … “God raised this Jesus; of this we are all witnesses. Exalted at the right hand of God, he received the promise of the Holy Spirit from the Father and poured him forth, as you see and hear.”
Psalm 16: Lord, you will show us the path of life.
1 1:17-21: [Christ] was known before the foundation of the world but revealed in the final time for you, who through him believe in God who raised him from the dead and gave him glory, so that your faith and hope are in God.
Luke 24:13-35 : That very day, the first day of the week, two of Jesus’ disciples were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus. …
May is the Month of Our Lady
Scripture Notes from the Sourcebook:
THE FIRST READING: On the day of Pentecost, filled with the power of God’s Spirit, Peter – and indeed all of the apostles – stand up and bear witness to Jesus! What a change in these men through the working of God’s Spirit! Peter, who earlier had denied knowing Jesus three times out of fear, now, in the power of the Spirit, gives public witness to his Death and Resurrection – events interpreted as part of God’s plan and purpose. It is impossible that death would have power over Jesus and God!
RESPONSORIAL PSALM 16: Today’s song of confidence is quoted by Peter in today’s First Reading and interpreted as fulfilled in Jesus of Nazareth. Death had no power over him. In Jesus, all can see the path to true and everlasting life.
SECOND READING: Peter reminds believers – called sojourners ina land that is not theirs – of the price of their redemption: the blood of Christ, the Lamb of God. Their – and our – faith is centered in him.
THE GOSPEL: Two of Jesus’ disciples, discouraged by the happenings of the previous few days, are desolately leaving Jerusalem. It is Easter evening, and although the women had proclaimed the news of the empty tomb, these disciples, along with others, still did not understand. When an unknown fellow traveler met them along the way and began speaking with them about Scripture, their hearts were enlivened. They recognized the stranger as Jesus when he broke bread with them. Are our own celebrations of the Eucharist occasions for recognizing Jesus in Word and in the breaking of the bread?
PASTORAL REFLECTION: Today’s rich Gospel account is full of words that constantly relate to our lives and society today. Disappointment, confusion, frustration, hoe for more, and a vision held that does not match the promised gift of God. Open your eyes to see what is present and allow your hearts to burn with a passion to know that the small things mean so much more! Break “bread” with your family and friends, whether this be actual food or breaking open your lives with intentional sharing about the goodness discovered in your day. Share a spoken blessing over your food and with your friends or family. Be intentional. Know the love of Christ in your communion of shared community. -- 2014 Sourcebook for Sundays, Seasons & Weekends
Two Were Bound for Emmaus
Two were bound for Emmaus, disheartened and lost;
All their hope for the future had been nailed to a cross.
Love unknown then walked beside them, come back from the dead,
And they knew he was risen in the breaking of the bread.
When the road makes us weary, when our labor seems but loss,
when the fire of faith weakens and too high seems the cost,
Let the Church turn to its risen Lord,
Who for us bore the cross,
And we’ll find our hearts burning at the sound of his voice.
-- Bob Hurd
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Plenty
Having shared our bread,
we know that we are
no longer hungry. It is enough
that you see me for myself.
That I see you for yourself.
That we bless what we see
and do not borrow, do not use
one another. This is how we know
We are no longer hungry … that
the world is full of terror, full of beauty
and yet we are not afraid to find solace here.
To be bread for each other. To love.
-- Gunilla Norris
The initiative in encounter belongs to the Lord. But if we open the door of our being to him, we shall share his life, his supper.-- Gustavo Gutierrrez
Gospel Commentary from the Irish Dominicans
The minds of those two defeated men were turned entirely to the past and its regrets. Everything seemed finished (“we had hoped…”), but now they were without hope.
Jesus did not reveal his identity in a blinding flash, he entered their conversation, he entered the past with them; he sifted it with them – but differently.
Their hopes had been political: “we had hoped that he was the one to set Israel free.” Deep in their hearts they were disappointed politicians, not disciples. It is not so surprising. It is much easier to be a politician at heart than to be a disciple. There are far more politicians in the world than you would think. Millions of people have the mind of a politician. A politician wants to change other people. But a disciple is one who is willing to be changed.
Jesus listened patiently to the version of history that those two men had. He didn’t cut them off after a few words. He heard them out. Had he cut them off, their doubts and objections would have remained inside them, suppressed and therefore all the more powerful. He listened, and in the light of what they said he read the past for them in a new way. “Beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.”
He did not impose his understanding of the past on them. Neither did he impose his understanding of the future. He waited for them to invite him. When they came near the village they said, “Stay with us!” He did not impose himself; he allowed them the courtesy of inviting him freely. Faith is God’s invitation to us: “Go into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet” (Matthew 22:9). In practice it has not always been so: many of us still remember the violence with which religion was forced on us in the past: physical violence in the case of children, moral and spiritual violence in the case of adults. Force always gives rise to counter-force. Many have this counter-force working in them and have become deaf accordingly to the invitation of Christ.
Christ does not force us, he invites us. But it has to be an invitation on our part too. Faith is a mutual invitation, because it is an invitation to friendship with God in him.
“When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.” This language is a clear reference to the Eucharistic. “Then their eyes were opened, and they recognised him.” This is how future disciples will recognise him too, in “the breaking of bread” – an early term for the Eucharist.
But immediately “he vanished from their sight.” They will not be able to possess him as an object, nor locate him in himself alone. Henceforth he is “the head of the body, the Church” (Colossians 1:18). He did not call us to be ‘alone with the Alone’ (whatever that odd phrase meant), but to be the new community. And he is no longer simply an historical figure, a regretted lost friend, a memory; he is the way forward; he is the Way to the Father; “through him we have access in one Spirit to the Father” (Ephesians 2:18). --- Donagh O’Shea, for Today’s Good News, the website of the Dominicans of Ireland-________________________________________________________________________
In the Breaking of the Bread
In the breaking of the bread we have known him; we have been fed.
Jesus the stranger, Jesus the Lord, be our companion, be our hope.
Bread for the journey, strength for our years, manna of ages, of struggle and tears.
Cup of salvation, fruit of the land, sealed in the Spirit the work of our hands.
-- Bob Hurd ________________________________________________________________________ It is an anonymous and unknown Christ who comes in merciful hiddenness to the distraught pilgrim, as He did to the travelers to Emmaus. —Thomas Merton
Encounter with a Supernatural God
Most Christians feel a deep need to see God and meet him all over again. … God met two disciples at their lowest hour on the Emmaus Road. Two disciples encountered God, and so can you. … Only a few days before Jesus had been betrayed, tried, mocked, flogged, and crucified. The seven-mile trip was an escape from Jerusalem. …Both of these disciples were in the pit of depression. Their hopes were dashed. They wanted a break from the stress and strain and from the tragedy of the past few weeks. So they are getting out of town—to Emmaus, but in reality going nowhere. More than anything, they needed a fresh encounter with the living God they now thought was dead. Just like these two disciples, you are working out a theology of God through the tragedies and trials of your life. … There are some common things in Scripture and in church history with those who walk the Emmaus Road and have an encounter with God:
1. That encounter happens when an individual is ready—at the right time. “As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them” (v. 15). The Bible calls this “in the fullness of time” (Galatians 4:4; Ephesians 1:10). … The timing will be at the right time for you, too, in your place of need, in your longing or desire for God. … When you are ready, the moment in time will be apparent. It is in our weakness and need for completion and fulfillment that most of us desire an encounter with God. Emmaus is not so much a place as it is a state of mind. For the two disciples on the road, it was an escape from fear, anxiety, stress, pain, rejection, confusion, and grief. It’s a place where you want to go to “get away,” where you are likely to say, “Forget it. The pain, rejection, loneliness, and failure are not worth it. All seems lost and hopeless. It does not matter anymore.” … At your darkest and most desperate hour, when you have come to the end of doing it for yourself, when you are unable to conceive of any way out from your problems, God meets you. This is when you are most able to recognize your need for Him. This is the moment that you most desire God in His infinite grace to rescue you. You are hungry, thirsty, anguished, desperate, and desiring. This is the perfect opportunity for God to meet you.
2. In that encounter God comes and confronts your hang-ups and confusion (1 Corinthians 11:32). You learn from the Emmaus Road that at your point of need you encounter God. “They stood still, their faces downcast” (v. 17). God must first deal with the “baggage” of misconceptions you carry. … Yet it is when these feelings seem overwhelming and you become desperate that God reveals Himself. Desperation brings you into an encounter with God. Dissatisfaction leads to revelation. As the two disciples discussed the events in Jerusalem, a “stranger” joined them. They shared their deepest disappointments, hopes, doubts, and failures. The stranger addressed their fears, failures, and uncertainty. It was an ordinary walk on the Emmaus Road with friends in dialogue, and at the meal the grace of God met them at their point of need.
3. God uses His word to confront you (Matthew 4:4; Luke 4:4). … [But] Even with their hearts moved by Scripture, the two disciples didn’t get it! It was not until they sat at the table and Jesus broke bread with them that it dawned on them. The light broke through.
4. The encounter with God will initiate an acceptance and love when the bread is broken (John 15:16). “When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them” (v. 30). Then their eyes were opened. Notice, they did not recognize him with their human eyes. It was when God opened their eyes that “they recognized him.” God was revealing Himself in a new revelation. …
5. A supernatural encounter will cause a change to take place (1 Thessalonians 1:5). “Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight” (v. 31). With a supernatural encounter with God, a person is never the same and the experience is unforgettable. Two things have caused this: a new knowledge of the character and personality of God, and a new understanding of God’s love and acceptance. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” (v. 32). The disciples’ encounter with Jesus Christ changed their lives! There is a spiritual realm all around you, enveloping you and waiting for you to acknowledge it. As you reckon its reality, it will come alive. God is waiting for your response to His presence. …
6. A supernatural faith encounter with God will give you a mission, task, or revelation beyond yourself (1 Corinthians 2:12-13). “They got up and returned at once to Jerusalem” (v. 33). … What they experienced on the Emmaus Road laid the foundation of faith and gave hope to the other disciples that they, too, could have an encounter with God. Their testimony traveled throughout their fellowship. …
7. The encounter will cause you to take the risk of faith and die if need be (Acts 15:26). Their hearts burned within with a new passion. This happens when you know you have broken through the dryness, emptiness, and darkness of your circumstances. You know that you have come into the flow of spiritual fullness and light when the pain, fear, rejection, loneliness, and failure have turned and given meaning and purpose. Grace burning within abounds along the road back from Emmaus. … -- John David Hicks, http://www.faithencounter.org/encountergod.htm
Reflection for May 4, 2014: On the Road to Emmaus
Last week, we heard the story of Thomas’ encounter with the Risen Lord; today, we hear about yet another unexpected, mysterious meeting. I love the accounts of these post-Resurrection appearances; they have the strange intensity of a dream and yet carry the earthy, unmistakable thunk of reality. Today, two of Jesus’ disciples, Cleopas and an unnamed buddy, are trudging down the road from Jerusalem, on their way to some podunk village seven miles away. We are not told exactly why they’re on the road, but it’s obviously not just a springtime stroll with a picnic waiting at the end. No, these guys clearly want to get out of Dodge, get away from it all as quickly as possible, because far too much has been happening in Jerusalem. Cleopas and his friends have gone from the triumphal hosannas of Palm Sunday to the shock and horror and abject squalor of Jesus’ betrayal and death. And if that wasn’t hard enough, now they’re having to cope with the very strange stories that some of the women are telling – rumors that Jesus is somehow alive and risen from the dead. Well, Cleopas and his buddies are hard-headed, practical, realistic guys, and they react as such guys generally do, when faced with something they can’t understand: They more or less pretend it isn’t happening at all, and the more the women insist that, but yes, it’s true, we know that Jesus is ALIVE! the more they look at each other and wink knowingly and, despite their genuine grief, almost have to struggle to keep a straight face, because, honestly! Resurrection? You’ve got to be kidding! And as soon as the women are out of the room, they shake their heads wisely and say to each other: “Oh, these ladies and their crazy ideas! They’re just so emotional about everything. Not realistic and practical like us. Yes, we miss Jesus, too. But reasonable people know for a fact that the dead can’t live again. And we are reasonable people.”Rather than take a chance on belief, they deliberately shut the door on it, and choose to remain in the darkness of their denial. (If it did nothing else, the life and resurrection of Jesus ought to have put to rest forever the notion of women as second-class citizens who can’t be trusted to speak the truth as disciples of the Lord.)
These two guys aren’t even pretending to believe that the resurrection is possible. They’re trudging down the road to Emmaus because they simply can’t stand to spend one more moment in Jerusalem; they are desperate to get away, and yet now they find as they slog through the dust that you cannot ever get away from your own broken heart. No, wherever you go, you must carry that it with you, a heavier weight by far than a sack full of bricks. The buds of the trees might be turning to green, and the birds might be singing around them. But none of that matters to people whose lives have been shattered. All they can think about is Jesus and his horrible death. And they cannot take a chance on hope – they dare not risk exposing their hearts again. And so they keep their heads down and just stomp on down the road, unseeing, unhearing, uncaring -- endlessly rehashing all the bitter events of the last few weeks, and getting more depressed with every mile.
And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.
The Gospels contain many mysterious statements, and this is one that bothered me for a long time: the idea that these two disciples were somehow prevented from recognizing Jesus. The guys were so clearly miserable and mournful; why didn’t Jesus just leap out and show himself, and instantly put all their doubts to rest – the way the hero springs out in an action movie at the very moment when you think he’s a goner, leaping out with guns a-blazing and wisecracks shooting off like firecrackers? Well, obviously because Jesus doesn’t work that way. But why doesn’t he?
Because our God is a God that is full of surprises, a God who does do things in the way we expect. And Jesus, you see, is not a movie hero. (Although on the Internet you can purchase Biblical “action figures” for your kids, all muscled-up with movable arms, so you can have your plastic Jesus and your plastic Moses go mano-a-mano with your plastic Darth Vader. The theological ramifications are astounding. But I digress, as I so often do.)
Still, whatever his reason, Jesus does not spring out of the sagebrush, hollering, “I’m ba-aa-acckk!!!” like a character in a movie. Jesus seldom interacts with us in quite that cinematic a way. All our genuine encounters with him are always on his own terms – and those encounters can be personal, intimate, abrupt, dramatic and life-changing, much as this encounter at Emmaus would prove – but they are not ever something that we can create ourselves or arrange or control. The Holy Spirit is not a genie you can summon with a rub of the lamp. And so Jesus takes his time with the disciples he meets on the road, listening carefully to their story, giving them a chance to express their grief and bitter frustration, and then bit by bit, step by step, he leads them gently out of their darkness, explaining to them the real truth of the matter. He is the one who prepares the way; he sows the ground and he plants the seed; he kindles the light, and he lets its brightness grow. All Cleopas and his friend can do is listen to him, and then respond – or not respond. Which is all we can do as well: Listen to Jesus when he speaks to us, even if we don’t quite recognize him at first. He comes to us on his own terms, when he’s ready to come to us. And we are given a tremendous freedom here, because the choice we make is always left up to us. But we must never forget who is really in charge. And we need to remember that Jesus doesn’t always look the way we expect him to look. We are, like Cleopas, at times prevented from recognizing God when he comes to us, usually because we’re the ones preventing ourselves – because we’re afraid to see a God that we don’t expect, afraid to take a chance, to make that frightening leap of faith.
We so often want God to be predictable – to be controllable. We’re not comfortable with the sense of mystery that fills the scriptural stories, so we do our best to de-mystify them whenever we can. We don’t want a God who comes to us in the guise of a dusty, tired, ordinary-looking walker along the roadside; we’d prefer a halo and a bit more pizzazz, so we know it’s Jesus, no question about it. From our earliest years, we’re told to welcome the stranger because we could be welcoming Christ, but we don’t really believe it, do we? At least we don’t act like we do. We are all so sure that we know what Jesus looks like, so certain we’ll recognize when next he comes. But we’re just as preoccupied and tired and worried as Cleopas and his friend, just as unable to see what’s in front of our faces. It is not until we make some kind of response to God’s presence that we even realize God is present. The two disciples begin to listen to the stranger they meet – really listen, and really think about what he’s saying. They slowly move out of shadow of their own sorrow and self-absorption, and begin to pay attention to this strange wanderer. And it occurs to them, finally, that this man might be as tired and hungry as they are. “Stay with us,” they say impulsively, “for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.”
And you know what happens next: They finally opened their hearts to Jesus, even though they still didn’t realize it was Jesus they welcomed. They began by treating this man as a stranger, somebody who was so ignorant he had to be told about what was happening in Jerusalem – but the longer they listened to him, the more they were forced to acknowledge that this “stranger” knew a whole lot more than they did. They repeated the story the women told about the empty tomb, but told it in a way that made their skepticism clear, almost as if they were sharing a kind of bad joke. But the stranger responded in a way they did not expect: “Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe. …” They listened, and began to realize that maybe they were not quite the “reasonable men” they thought. And just maybe, they thought, those crazy women were worth listening to after all.
The longer they listened to the stranger, the more enthralled they became. And almost before they knew it, they began to treat him like a friend. So they offered him hospitality and food and shelter for the night. For the moment, they forgot about their own troubles. And when they invited Jesus to come with them, he came with them. He sat down at the table, and I suspect a kind of glow began to fill the everyday scene as he did so, because the scales in front of the disciples’ eyes were beginning to fall away. What did they see that evening? A commonplace inn with a wooden table, a dusty floor, a plate with a loaf of bread and a pitcher of wine – but suddenly a kind of glory began to irradiate the world. The disciples offered the bread and wine to Jesus, much the way we do in the sacrifice of the Mass. And Jesus accepted it. And then – and then --
And then it happened that while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.
He vanished from their sight – but now they knew who he was, and more than that, they knew he would be with them always. They recognized him in the breaking of the bread, and they never forgot it. When they set out for Emmaus that morning, they thought they were running away from their lives. It turned out that they were running toward God himself. They met a stranger, and the stranger was Christ. We all meet strangers – who knows how often we meet Christ? We can’t arrange it, we can’t control it. All we can do is show up, and pay attention – keep putting one foot after the other, making our way down the road to Emmaus, which, after all, is the road of our life.
Every Sunday, we have a brand-new chance to meet Jesus at Emmaus. We hear the Scriptures read at every Mass, but the words are nothing but words unless we let Jesus open the readings up to us. Whenever we hear his voice in our hearts, we have the chance to ask him to stay with us, to spend some quiet time in the house of our soul. And when our eyes are opened, we recognize him in the breaking of the bread. Sometimes, when I receive the Eucharist, I think:Was not my heart burning within me, while he spoke to me on the way? We are all walking down the road to Emmaus. I’ll meet you there at the inn, dear friends, and we’ll meet our Lord in the breaking of the bread. In Jesus’ name. – Diane Sylvain