Second Sunday of Easter homily

‘You must be the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know what has been happening there these last few days.’

He says to the one person who not only truly knows what has been happening in Jerusalem these last few days, but who has lived through the events in Jerusalem the last few days – they are literally imprinted on his wrists, his feet and his side. Still he does not go, ‘Duh.’ With the gentleness that marks him he asks, ‘what things?’ And lets them tell him the whole story about him and them from their perspective. He listens to them attentively – he does not interrupt. Only after they have finished, does he reproach them for not believing.

He then tells them the story in a different way – it is a story of promise, faithfulness and fulfilment into which they were invited. He had told them many times during the story that it was not going to go as they expected, but they could not hear him. What he suggested was foreign to their vision, to their understanding of the ways of God. They hung on to their hope that the kingdom of David would be restored; Jesus would be crowned and his followers would come up smelling of roses. Their hopes had been dashed, everything had gone terribly wrong and ended in desolation and disaster. They could not make sense of Jesus’ ending in light of his teaching and miracles. None of it made sense. These two disciples are walking away from it all when Jesus comes to find them and open their eyes to God’s faithfulness and presence in his life, his death and his resurrection. Their hearts burn within them.

He does not force them to continue the journey with him. He makes as if to go on and they insist that the stranger stays with them. Their hearts are burning with them. And then their guest becomes the host as he breaks the bread and they recognise the Lord in their midst.

We have our stories – stories of our day, week, year, life. What sort of stories are they? A mix of joy, sorrow, disappointment, fulfilment perhaps. What part does the Lord and his faithfulness play in our story? I remember receiving new sight once – I had one way of thinking over the events of a few years gone past when I had my eyes opened and realising that what I thought was absence was a different sort of presence. The presence of the Lord with me and to me changed no particular event or action, but it changed everything for he is faithful.

Every Sunday as part of our journey of faith we walk to Emmaus. We come here as we are with our joys, sorrows, boredom, anxieties, anticipation. Maybe we are ever on the verge of walking away from it all like the disciples journeying to Emmaus. He is here with us. We can start by telling him how we feel, be honest. And then ask him to help us hear, listen to him: ‘So what do you have to say to me, Lord?’

He opens the scriptures to us each week shedding a little light of our story, opening our eyes to the surprising faithfulness and presence of God whose ways are not our ways. As with two disciples, he hosts us at his table, calling us to recognise him in the bread broken and cup poured out. He calls us to learn from his story to see his Father’s surprising faithfulness in our stories. This generations of disciples over two millennia have done.

And though this one Eucharist is celebrated in somewhat different ways throughout the world, some things are ever the same. It is the Risen Lord who accompanies us, listens to us, opens our minds to the scriptures, hosts us at his table, and sends us out to tell the world that He has been raised from the dead.

“We share with generation upon generations the same fire of God’s faithful love burning in our hearts as we are welcomed here each week, are listened to, taught, nourished and sent out to do our bit for the coming of his Kingdom.”