In the Breaking of the Bread
In 1897, the New York Journal published a report that Samuel Clemens, also known as Mark Twain, had died of a serious illness. In reality, it was his cousin who died and, upon learning of the error, Mr. Clemens told the public that the rumors of his death were an exaggeration. Ten years later, in 1907, the New York Times speculated that Mr. Clemens had been lost at sea when his yacht was delayed by fog. Arriving at his destination several days later and learning, once again, of his premature death, he wrote a humorous article about it for the New York Times. Stories like these make me wonder about the reaction of his friends to each report of his death. Did they not feel shock… deep sorrow… and even despair on learning of his death… only to experience a skeptical hope… incredible joy… and even a wonderous awe… when they heard that he had not died after all?
In the weeks following Easter, we deal with stories of the disciples… their acceptance of Jesus’ death… and their skepticism about his resurrection… and we are often quick to scoff at their confusion and doubt. The women who went to the tomb found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. But Mary Magdalene thought someone had stolen Jesus’ body. When the women returned to the others with the stories of Jesus’ resurrection, no one believed them. Thomas was not with the others when Jesus appeared to them on the evening of the resurrection. When he heard the stories of Jesus’ appearance, he was filled with skepticism… and hope…but hope that demanded proof. When, at last, he saw his risen Savior, he professed his faith and heard his Lord ask, “"Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."
Now, we have yet another story of disciples who have learned of Jesus’ death and are returning to their home in Emmaus, just a few miles from Jerusalem. Their pace is slow, for they are still dealing with their own shock and grief… and trying to figure out what Jesus’ death means to them and to their future. How does a person cope with the report of the death of a friend? How do we come to grips with the news of the death of a significant leader… a beloved teacher… a role model... or someone who has been a constant companion… comrade… and friend on life’s journey? How do we fill the hole in our life… in our world… in our future… when the person who has been there is no longer there? What happens when our picture of the future is destroyed by the death of the person we planned to spend that future with… when our worldview shifts because that leader is no longer here to lead us? What questions whirl through our heads? What protests… what anger… what frustration… what sense of helplessness comes with acceptance of the news?
A stranger approaches with an innocent question: “What are you talking about?” and they turn on him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who doesn’t know the things that have happened in the past three days?” “What things?” he asks… and they unload all of their pain and confusion… their hopes and dreams… their sense of loss and lostness… mingled with the story of Jesus’ crucifixion, death, and burial. The anger… the tears… the frustration… flow freely. Then, this wise scholar gently guides them through their own scriptures… coaxing them to a greater understanding of the prophecies of Israel… and chiding them for their lack of faith. They want to hear more… so when the stranger says he is going farther down the road, they urge him to stay and eat with them… hungry for more stories of hope… more stories that make sense out of the senselessness… more stories that soothe their battered souls and fan the flame in their hearts.
They never recognized him… either because he was much changed in his appearance… or because they were simply too focused on themselves to really look at him. They did not recognize him… that is, until he took the bread… and blessed it… and broke it. Only one person they knew did it like that… only one person they knew prayed the way that he did… only one person held the bread… broke the bread… like he did… only one person had hands that were scarred by nails like he did… only one person… And their eyes were opened and they recognized him… and he vanished from their sight.
They never expected to see Jesus – period. He was dead. And, if by any chance, he was alive, would he be walking on the road to Emmaus that day? No way. He would be in Jerusalem… in the seat of power. He would be with Peter, James and John – the inner circle of his disciples. He wouldn’t be with them. Sometimes, we don’t see what is right in front of us. Sometimes, we see… and we don’t understand what we are seeing. Sometimes, we don’t see, because we don’t expect to see… because we are blinded by our assumptions… by our tears… because we have lost hope… because we are too focused on ourselves to see beyond ourselves. Sometimes, even the presence of God escapes us.
Gregory the Great, the pope who led the Christian church from 590 AD to his death in 604 AD, once wrote: “If a dead man is raised to life, all men spring up in astonishment. Yet every day, one that had no being is born, and no man wonders, though it is plain to all, without doubt, that it is a greater thing for that to be created which was without being than for that which had being to be restored. Five thousand men were filled with five loaves; [yet] every day the grains of seed that are sown are multiplied in a fullness of ears, and no man wonders. All wondered to see water once turned into wine. [Yet] Every day the earth's moisture, being drawn into the root of the vine, is turned by the grape into wine, and no man wonders. Full of wonder then are all the things which men never think to wonder at, because they are by habit become dull to the consideration of them."
There is evidence of God’s amazing power and presence around us all the time… and yet we do not see… or we fail to recognize the miracle of all of life… every day. It all has to do with our expectations. What do you expect? Do you expect to encounter your Savior face-to-face in your life today? Why not? Do you really believe that your Savior lives… or are you skeptical, despite all that the Bible tells us… plus two thousand years of additional stories from the saints who have gone before us? What will it take for you to really believe? Will you see him in the breaking of the bread, as his disciples did… or only when your fingers can touch his nail-scarred hands? Do you believe that he has come to Stephenville, Texas… or do you believe he is somewhere else… in more important places… with more important people? More important by whose standards… yours… theirs… God’s? Are you not the sheep that was lost for whom Christ turned his back on ninety-nine others to find? Why wouldn’t he choose to be with you today… on whatever road you are taking? Would you recognize him, if he was walking beside you?
The gift of the Eucharist… the Last Supper… is the gift of Christ’s invitation to see him again in the breaking of the bread… each time we come to the table… and to know that – though he has vanished from our sight – he is alive… and chooses to be present with us… and still offers us the hope of life with him… a life that surpasses our expectations… because – amazingly – we expect so little. It is our Savior himself who invites us to share this feast… and to see him in the breaking of the bread… to know that he walks with us on life’s journey… so that our hope might be renewed… our battered souls soothed… and the flame in our hearts rekindled to burn with renewed fire… for him and for his kingdom in this place. Come… share the feast. See your risen Savior again. Amen.
Luke 24:13-35