May Jesus Christ be
praised and may his holy Mother pray for us.
This is one of my
favorite passages in the gospels. This
is one of my least favorite Sundays.
Next Saturday, our parish will celebrate First Holy Communion. And my brief years of experience as a priest
teaches me that after next week I will not see many of you again for several
years. It seems that every year many
children approach the Altar, filled with joy and radiant in the grace of
Christ, to receive the body, blood, soul and divinity of the Lord Jesus Christ
in Holy Communion, and the next week he is taken from them. These precious children are ripped from the
womb of Mother Church and deprived of the gift of Divine Life. It is, my dear brothers and sisters, a season
of spiritual abortions, and that is tragic.
So it is with profound sadness in my heart that I approach the Altar and
the pulpit this weekend. It seems so very,
very sad.
The two disciples on
the road to Emmaus in our gospel were walking in sadness too. They were going home. It would be a somber seven miles from the
holy city of Jerusalem to the village of Emmaus. They were heading home because they believed
that the promise of the Messiah, the one who would redeem Israel, had been left
unfulfilled. For if these two disciples
had believed the rumors that they had heard that the tomb of Jesus was now
empty, and that angels had announced that the one who was crucified, dead and
buried was now alive, they would have stayed in Jerusalem. But now they were going home, as those who
have no hope.
Far in their hearts
from joy and hope, Jesus drew near to these disciples, though his presence was
veiled from their sight. He approached
them with a simple question, “What are you discussing as you walk along?” These two disciples were amazed that the one
who had joined them did not know of the events of the last few days. They briefly recounted for him that Jesus, a prophet
mighty in deed and word and the one that they hoped would be the redeemer, had
been handed over and crucified. They revealed that now there were rumors that
he had been raised from the dead. These
men who were without hope and whose hearts had grown cold, were simply amazed
at his lack of knowledge. How could this
person not know what had happened? Who
was it that was walking with them?
Now Jesus, amazed not
only at their lack of knowledge but their lack of understanding, said to them,
“Oh how foolish you are! How slow of
heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!
Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and
enter into his glory?” And then, for the
remainder of this seven mile journey, this unknown visitor lifted the veil that
shrouded the meaning of the scriptures.
Beginning with Moses and the prophets he revealed to those who had ears
to hear that everything pointed to him.
The whole of the Scriptures, the whole of human history, points to
Him.
And when they came to
the end of their journey, these two disciples could not help but invite this
unrecognized visitor to stay with them. It was evening and the day was almost
over. While they were seated at table
they invited their visitor to become their companion. The very word companion means those with whom
we break bread. And in taking and
blessing and giving and receiving, the eyes of the disciples were opened and
they recognized the one who had joined them.
They recognized the real presence of Jesus, once physical but now
sacramental. Their hearts that had grown
cold now burned with the fire of hope.
And the somber seven miles to Emmaus now gave way to a joyous journey to
Jerusalem, and the announcement that the Lord Jesus was made known to them
in the breaking of the bread.
We come to the
celebration of the holy Eucharist, often with heavy hearts. We are burdened by the events of the
week. We are burdened by the tragedies,
the sufferings and the profound disappointments. And yet, dear brothers and sisters, in every
celebration of the Eucharist, whether we are filled with joy and hope or grief
and anxiety, the Lord Jesus draws near to us.
He opens the Scriptures to us. On
the blessed day that rejoices to see Christ rising from the dead, on the eighth
day, Christ himself joins us. At table
with those whom he loves, he breaks the bread, and though veiled in simple
gifts, he is really present to us. Each
week, we walk to Emmaus, and the Lord Jesus draws near. May we have ears to hear, and eyes that
desire to be opened. And may our hearts
burn within us as we meet the Risen Lord in the breaking of the bread. Amen.
Preached
at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church, Monroe, NC
