AEaster3 a friend and not a stranger

 Walking through San Francisco from my office in the Financial District up into Chinatown and North Beach was a favorite lunch break for me. One day returning from Caffe Trieste or Molinari’s Deli, as I waited at the stop light at Columbus and Broadway, I heard someone quietly walk up next to me. 

First I saw the tennis shoes. A little oversized. Then, looking up, I found myself looking into twinkling blue eyes of– what at first appeared to be a middle-aged woman– but it was a man! 

Not a man in drag, like my old neighbors on Lily Street, but a man impeccably made to look like a woman. A man in drag I could’ve understood, but this was something else. It freaked me out.

Years later I found out: an actor, during a break from filming, had left the film set, and gone on his own lunchtime walk, still in full makeup and costume. He was playing a middle-aged woman. 

Mrs. Doubtfire.

And so he had a little fun seeing people’s reactions, like mine, to see if the illusion would hold up. 

[Apparently Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon did the same thing, when they tried out their wigs and dresses (and heels) for “Some Like it Hot”.]

So I did not recognize him. 

Have you had that experience? Of not recognizing someone, of not seeing?

I feel a little sympathy for Cleopas and the other disciple. Who would be the last person they would expect to see, on the road to Emmaus? – besides Robin Williams. 

The master. 

The one crucified just three days ago. Sure there were rumors, crazy stories. But now?

It was all too real. You could excuse them for freaking out. But they did not. At first they did not see Jesus, they saw a stranger. Then a companion on the way. And by time they invited him to dinner, he had walked them through what had happened, what had to happen, according to all the Scriptures.

Only these truths were not so strange, and he was no stranger. He was their teacher.

***

• Acts 2:14a,36-41
• 1 Peter 1:17-23
• Luke 24:13-35
• Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17

***

Kitchen Scene with Supper at Emmaus, Rijck, 1605 http://edgeofenclosure.org/emmausrijck.html

AEaster3 bread and strangers

Velazquez’ “Kitchen Maid With Supper at Emmaus”

https://www.nationalgallery.ie/sites/default/files/2017-04/w1500-Vel%C3%A1zquez-Kitchen-Maid.jpg

Then the two disciples described what had happened along the road and how Jesus was made known to them as he broke the bread. (Luke 24:35)

We were walking along the road talking about everything that had happened in the last few days. We spoke about how Jesus had come to Jerusalem. 

We welcomed him with branches strewn in the road and cloaks spread across the path where he passed. Hosannas were in the air. 

Then he went into the temple and taught. Even as he left for the day he had healed people. His words and his deeds were powerful. Everyone could tell that he was a mighty prophet.

But then our chief priests and the elders themselves handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him. 

Here we had hoped and had hoped. All our hopes were in him that he would be the one: the savior, the Messiah, the one to redeem Israel. 

All these things had happened just three days before.

But then, we recalled what had happened earlier that day. Some of the women had gone to the tomb in the morning and found an empty tomb, and angels who said that Jesus had risen. and when Peter went to check, he found no one there at all.

It was strange and disturbing to hear these things and we had left town. We were on our way away from all this when a stranger came alongside us and became our companion on the way and we told him what was in our minds and on our hearts.

Somehow, he was someone you could trust. So we told him.

He surprised us, though, by rebuking us, saying we were foolish and had not understood.

We were going the wrong way in what we were thinking and what we were feeling.

We thought it was all over, but he said, this is something that had to happen. 

I wish we had taken notes. He told us from the beginning of the scriptures all that the prophets had to say about the Messiah.

The miles passed more quickly and we found ourselves at the village as evening was drawing in.

We did not want the conversation to end. We wanted to hear more. He seemed to be ready to walk on alone, but we pressed an invitation on him to stay with us. It was after all drawing on to night and it was not a time for travelers to walk alone.

So he came in with us to the Inn and at the table he took the bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to us.  

And that is when we recognized him.

It had only been three days after all since we had last broken bread with him.

And here he was breaking the bread again and sharing it. Alive, as always alive. More than always. He shared the bread with us, and then as our eyes were opened he – disappeared.

On the way as he had told us what was happening, our hearts were warmed. Our minds were opened so that we understood 

that 

what had happened and 

what was happening 

was not the end, 

was not cause for despair, 

but that in it, 

even in the worst of it, 

was hope 

and that now a new hope was beginning: 

for he has risen. 

So we could not help but turn around and run back up the hill to Jerusalem to tell our friends.

***

They were there, they told the story. But did they understand it? Weren’t they headed the wrong way, thinking that all was over, when in fact all was only beginning?

When they are most despondent or at least baffled, the holy one appears…but he is transformed and unfamiliar.  

He meets them where they are. He joins them on their journey. 

They admit to this stranger, this unexpected companion on the way, that they are discouraged and uncertain how to proceed… except, apparently, to head away from the center of action. 

He invites them to reveal their thoughts, wonderings – to tell their own story of what had happened these last days.

He encourages them to share their perceptions, hopes, questions, disappointments. 

They take him for a foreign visitor, and a particularly clueless one, as even those seem to have been aware… but he is not offended.

Jesus never takes his interlocutors for granted. He gives them the dignity of supplying their own answers, as he did when he asked the blind beggar Bartimaeus “what do you want me to do for you?” 

(Of course this enhances the storytelling quality of the narrative, drawing us further in, as the dialogue continues.) 

The other disciple is unnamed - could it be us?

There was a common understanding of Jesus as a prophet. 

Everybody, it seems, knows what to expect and what it meant – except this stranger.

Then: It looks like it’s all over….. but he is risen.

How could this possibly be?

As if they were blind and needed their eyes, and their hearts, to be opened, just as the blind and the lame and the deaf needed healing, beyond the physical, to the spiritual, so these need the ‘opening’ of their minds, the healing of hearts.  

From the beginning until now, he taught them, Christ was coming.

(heightened tension) He explained what the Christ is, on the road, but they wanted to know, who is he? “Where can I find this living water?”

In the great Middle Eastern tradition, they show hospitality … and find themselves entertaining more than an angel, unawares. 

They fully recognized him in the breaking and sharing of the bread, rather than only in the exposition of Scripture. Now he is real. 

This is the one who only three days before had last broken bread with his disciples. Now he is transfigured in the resurrection.

It was in the ‘opening’ to them of the scriptures that they first became inspired, and left behind their ‘folly’ and disconsolate past. 

But: this is their moment of illumination. They recall, only now, after his glory is revealed, all that he had taught them – on the road to Emmaus that day, and on all those roads they had travelled before his death.

He has turned them around –  from despair to hope.

They encountered him on the road; he opened their minds through his teaching. In the action of communion, he opened their hearts. 

In the bread, in the wine,  of Eucharist, when we are in the presence of each other in communion, we may truly perceive his presence, in the Spirit, in our midst.

Open our eyes, that we may see… beyond our own preconceptions and preferences. Perhaps the Christ we need to see comes to us similarly veiled.

Do our eyes need to be opened? Our hearts? Our understanding? Do we need to be healed, as the blind were healed, but in our souls?

 

Who or what has prevented us from recognizing Jesus? Our fear? Anxiety? Preconceptions of the Messiah? Preoccupations?

I wonder: Do we truly know him in the breaking of the bread? In the communion we share? Do we see the stamp of Christ in each other?  

When do we fully see Jesus for who he is? When do we see each other in fullness? And then, as we go out into the world to spread the word and serve the world in its breathless need, do we see its goodness, the love of Christ reflected in his care? 

Lord Jesus, be our companion in the way, kindle our hearts, and awaken hope, that we may know you as you are revealed in Scripture and the breaking of bread. Grant this for the sake of your love. Amen. (from A Collect for the Presence of Christ)

• Acts 2:14a,36-41
• 1 Peter 1:17-23
• Luke 24:13-35
• Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17

https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Easter/AEaster3_RCL.html

http://edgeofenclosure.org/easter3a.html

Kitchen Scene with Supper at Emmaus, Rijck, 1605 http://edgeofenclosure.org/emmausrijck.html   Velazquez’ “Kitchen Maid With Supper at Emmaus” https://www.nationalgallery.ie/sites/default/files/2017-04/w1500-Vel%C3%A1zquez-Kitchen-Maid.jpg

The Unknown Companion

Matham - Maaltijd te Emmaus. Rijksmuseum.

Who do you break bread with?

Who do you invite to stay with you?

Who is the unknown companion?

How will you know him?

I remember: The Falafel Guy at Sather Gate in Berkeley would fill your pita with lettuce, tomato, falafel, and if you asked, baba ganoush, and hummus. Bless him... Years later on pilgrimage to the Holy Land our last stop was to be in Abu Ghosh, a village with two claims to fame. Most recently it held the world record for the world's largest hummus platter, which alas we did not taste; as it is, Lebanon has taken the title away. More traditionally and lastingly, Abu Ghosh is near the site of the disciples' visit to Emmaus.

There is a church there, the Church of the Resurrection, that houses frescoes depicting the story from today's gospel. We learn how the disciples knew Jesus in the breaking of the bread. And in seeing those pictures and hearing the story, and breaking the bread together ourselves, the past becomes present to us. 

The story begins: It was a long time ago – it was earlier today. On the Emmaus road two were walking – and a third came alongside. Who was the third? They did not think to ask. They were preoccupied, overwhelmed, bewildered and baffled, with troubles of their own.

The news, the good news, was hidden in a maelstrom of fear and anxiety – even terror: for it was an act of terror that set their feet on the road, drove them from Jerusalem. Jesus of Nazareth was crucified under Pontius Pilate. And then, on top of that, came the truly incredible news the women were telling: the tomb was empty. He was not there. Angels spoke to them.

When the disciples set out down the road to Emmaus they did not know where they were going. Sure, they knew where the road led – but they did not know what the future held. They were talking with each other about what had happened, trying to sort out what was really going on. What did it mean?

The third approached, and walked along with them. They did not recognize him. But he accompanied them on the way. And at his inquiry they rehearsed for him the events of those days, almost like a creed, beginning with the words and deeds of Jesus, a prophet mighty before God and the people. They spoke of his betrayal and death, the empty tomb, and the angels’ message. But they didn’t get it – they did not know what it meant, what was really going on beneath the surface of what was happening.

O you foolish Emmæans! How slow you are to grasp it – this is what the prophets were talking about – that the Messiah must suffer, must pass through passion and death and resurrection, before he can reach his glory.

As they reached the village the unknown companion made as if to go on. But they stopped him, offering hospitality. They insisted. Stay with us, for evening is at hand, and the day nearly spent.

So he went in—

“But let me tell you, that to approach the stranger

Is to invite the unexpected, release a new force,

Or let the genie out of the bottle.

It is to start a train of events

Beyond your control. So let me continue.”

[“The Cocktail Party” by T. S. Eliot, The Complete Poems and Plays 1909-1950 (Harcourt, Brace & World, 1952) p.306]

For now the stranger took, blessed, broke, shared the bread; and they knew: this is his Body, and we are in his Kingdom, now. And there in that place the guest became the host. He became the host, as he must always do, when we invite him in. 

When we take Jesus in, as guest, as host, we are transformed, we are enlightened.

We are at his Table, fellowshipping with him.

And he himself is the Bread; he is the Life.

As he left them, they were no longer afraid. They turned to each other and said,

Our hearts warmed

as he taught us

on the road, opening

the Word to us

to our understanding.

Word and Table –

in these they knew him –

in these we know him—

as we break the bread

and tell the tale,

of the marvelous events 

of God with us.

They returned immediately to the City and to their company, to tell their friends, to share the news, the good news, that all the world soon should know, that Christ is risen from the dead, Alleluia! That he arose, that he made himself known in the breaking of the bread.

That is not the end of the story. Like manna in the wilderness, like loaves for 5000, like bread for two disciples at Emmaus, but greater, is the gift of himself that the Lord gives us, bringing us life, new life in abundance. For the bread broken that is his body has multiplied across times and places and generations. 

As we, one body, share the one bread, we celebrate that selfsame Lord until he comes again.

And so we ask— how is Christ known among us?

Who do you break bread with? Who is it that you see at the table? Is Jesus there? Jesus, who told us, I will be with you. Jesus, who said, when I was hungry you fed me. Jesus, who said, I am the bread.

Is he there at the table?

Yes— for whenever we bless the bread and break it and share it, whenever we take the cup of wine and share it, we remember his death until he comes. And we know that he is risen— that he is alive and among us— that in this action he becomes known to us.

Do we walk with him on the way? Do we welcome the stranger? Share our table fellowship? With whom do we, now, break the bread? Do we know, in them, friend or stranger, the fellowship of Christ? Do we hear him teaching, are our eyes opened, do we see him, as we study the Scriptures?

There are several useful and specific things that people of faith, connected to traditional religions, have to offer people seeking a new church home, including seekers who are less attached to a faith tradition.

Theological understanding, spiritual practices, reliable mentors and spiritual guides, and faithful communities, are among the gifts we the church have to offer the devout and the seeker, the eager and the bereft, the occasional and ancillary member, and even the “spiritual but not religious.” 

As Herb O’Driscoll points out in his commentary on this gospel, “We live in a time when spirituality is suspicious of structure and form and institution. Yet any spirituality, if it is to last through the vicissitudes of time and history, must take on form”. 

 

What we have to offer as a church is our experience of God, not just in ourselves, but in communities, through the aid of pastors and teachers, through prayer partners and soul friends, through study and service, and in the breaking of bread and in the prayers.

Yet even more than our structures and traditional practices, whose external aspects, memories or associations may act as barriers, we have something to offer to people seeking a way to truth and sane living in an uncertain world, that is much more precious than the institutional containers we have used. 

It is the all-embracing love of God.

When I was back in Tombstone where I once was vicar, I looked for Mongo, who drove the old stagecoach. I didn’t see him. But then after all, when he met me somebody said, “Hey Mongo! He’s from your church.” And he said, “It’s my church - when I go.” “So it’s your church.” “When I go.” 

Someone who knows us as "my church - when I go!" is a member. Someone who returns to bury a family member, or seeks to be married or to be baptized, is a member. 

And someone who knocks on the door when they seek a light may find us to be a lighthouse, and a beacon, and a home.

Open our eyes to your presence,

open our hearts to your love,

that we, openhearted, open-eyed, open-handed,

may share the bread and tell the story,

that you may be present

in the midst of us,

and that we might share

that good news with all those we meet on the way.

Travel with us, Lord, show us the truth;

stay with us, Lord, show us your love;

send us, Lord, forth from this place,

newly strengthened by Word and fellowship

with the knowledge of your love,

and full of news, good news,

to share, in word and deed, with the world.

Elusive God, companion on the way,

you walk behind, beside, beyond:

you catch us unawares.

Break through the clouds of doubt,

the disillusionment and despair,

that obscure our vision,

that

wide-eyed with wonder

open-mouthed with awe

we may find our way

and journey on

as messengers

of your good news.

Amen.  

JRL+

AEaster3, Emmaus, Luke 24:13-35