Today's
Gospel reading, often called the "Road to Emmaus" has long been a
very popular story in Christian life. Retreats, Weekends, and books are named
after it. In Missoula, the first really good European style restaurant was
opened by Community Covenant Church and called Emmaus Road. For me, it tells us
something about the early church, something about us and Godde, and something
about bread.
The
most basic of Biblical commentaries tells us that by the time Luke wrote down
this story he was hearing about Jesus, it had already been shaped by the early
Christian community. In the Acts of the Apostles, also thought to have been
written by Luke, we are told that the new converts devoted themselves to the
teaching and fellowship of the Apostles, the breaking of the bread and the
prayers. These ancient words are incorporated in our Baptismal vows. The
breaking of the bread was a ritual established very early in the life of the infant
church. The story of the encounter on the road to Emmaus is told in a sequence
that relates that the unrecognized Risen Lord explained the scriptures to the
two dejected travelers, and then broke bread with them. This is the same
pattern that our liturgy follows to this day….we break open the Word of God for
each other, and then we break the bread.
It
is not hard for us to put ourselves in the place of the two weary ones who may
have been fleeing Jerusalem. There were too many reminders of the terrible way
their hope had been wrenched from them. The man they had believed would
literally save Israel from all its troubles had been hung up like the scum of
the earth, to die and be picked apart by birds of prey. A death of enormous
uncleanness during high holy days.
We
all have times when we don't recognize people we should know. It happens all
the time, especially when some one appears out of context. A nurse from our
specialist's office spots us in WalMart. Someone we worked with 20 years ago in
another time and place encounters us at a political rally. It takes some
action, some word, to trigger our memory and then in relief we can say,
"Of course – it's Michael !" My husband has a knack for running into
people he knew 30 years ago on a softball team, totally out of context like in
the Salt Lake Airport, and having them say "Don ! How are you doing
?" Blank. One of the benefits of my recent illness is that I can say
"My brain has been off line for a while now and you will have to help me with
your name." He can't get away with that, he says……
So
the two travelers have seen and felt their world turned upside down. It is a
demonstration of how deeply they believe that Jesus is gone. Even though some
of the women of the group have met the Risen Lord, and told of their
experience, they are after all, only women. You know how it goes – overly
emotional, irrational, prone to see and hear weird things…..women. So convinced
are they that the dream is gone, redemption snatched away, that they don't
recognize the one they are grieving. It
isn't until he performs the simple act of breaking the bread, as someone always
did at a Jewish table, that it all falls into place.
You
know from having to listen to me preach that I believe strongly in the ongoing
post-resurrection appearances. After the Ascension of Jesus, which we celebrate
in a few weeks, I believe that Godde is present in thousands of acts, words,
touches, sunrises, snatches of remembered songs and scriptures every day. But
we don't recognize the presence of Godde if we are shuffling along the dusty
road, devoid of hope. That isn't to say that hopelessness isn't part of the
human condition. It is, and there are echoes of it in the Garden of Gethsemane.
But if we can take time to be still, cease commiserating for a moment; to lift
our head and listen, the voice of the Risen Lord can be heard. And then we
recognize him in familiar acts of everyday life.
Now
for a lament.
When
bread was broken at the Jewish table, it may have been leavened or unleavened,
but it was baked in a communal oven unless you were very wealthy and had your
own. It is a waste of precious fuel to fire up an oven for a few loaves of
private bread. You can close your eyes and imagine the smell of the village on
a spring day when the loaves were almost ready to be taken out.
When
we consecrate the bread and break it, it is Jesus, the Lamb of God, broken for
us.
When
we take the bread and eat it, Jesus is remembered – that is, brought to memory.
And Jesus is re-membered - brought back
together in the People of Godde. We are a sacramental church, and we believe
that Jesus is present in the bread, to be broken, shared and gathered again in
us.
During
the liturgical reforms after Vatican II, many denominations examined the
balance in their services between the Word and the Eucharist. Roman Catholic
priests were given opportunities to focus more on their preaching, and on truly
breaking open the Word of God. Many Protestant denominations where the 30
minute sermon prevailed, focused more energy into Communion and it was
celebrated more often than before. One of the rallying cries of Catholic
liturgical reformers was "It shouldn't be harder to believe that this is
bread than it is to believe that it is Jesus". I didn't really catch on to
that until the fateful day that Eucharist was celebrated with rounds of fresh
unleavened whole wheat bread that still smelled of the oven. When it was blest,
broken, and handed to each of us, the Communion Hymn was from the 34th
Psalm. "Taste and see the goodness of the Lord". Fresh, sweet, earthy
bread of course ground wheat, and it was possible to hear the words and taste
their meaning. A whole new meaning. A meaning obscured if you have only known
the little white pasty wafers. Or in the tradition I grew up in, little squares
of Wonder Bread.
We
will know Godde in the breaking of the bread – Taste and see the goodness of
the Lord.
Amen
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