April 2017

Jesus always has to reveal himself to His disciples in His risen appearances. They never identify Him through their own powers. On most occasions He appears in their midst and offers them peace. Mary Magdalene mistakes Him for gardener, but He only has to say her name for her to recognize Him. In today’s story of His encounter with two disciples on the road to Emmaus, there is a much slower process. The story is like a program of catechesis. The disciples are first asked to give their account of what is preoccupying them, and with their telling of the story there is a sense of disappointment and frustration. Their hopes had been dashed, both in the events of the crucifixion and the puzzling aftermath of the empty tomb. Jesus picks up their story and reframes it. By this time their hearts are beginning to burn with the experience of the truths He is unfolding to them. But the act of full recognition only comes after they have persuaded Him to stay with them. He accepts their invitation and it is in His disciples and breaking of bread that the disciple’s eyes are finally opened and they recognize Him.

Each stage of the celebration, the offering of the bread and wine, the consecration of the elements and our receiving them in communion, helps our understanding of the mystery of God’s presence among us. We become the body of Christ whose sacrifice we have been both witnessed and made our own.

​The mystery of Jesus’ empty tomb has continued to fascinate throughout the centuries. Mary Magdalene is the first to discover that it is empty. When Peter and John get to the tomb, John hesitates. He stands on the threshold of the tomb. Peter goes straight in and also sees the evidence, though we are not told what he makes of it. However, when John symbolically crosses the threshold of the tomb, something happens within him. Even without seeing the risen Jesus, it suddenly makes sense for him: he sees and he believes. It’s not the risen Lord that he sees, just the clues of His resurrection. Mary had seen those same clues and naturally assumed the body had been taken away – it’s only when she actually meets the risen Lord that she comes to believe. But John is able to intuit this awesome truth simply from the fact of the empty tomb, from the fragments of Jesus’ burial cloths – and so surely from the fragments of his memory of Jesus’ teaching on the resurrection from the dead.

“They have taken my Lord and I don’t know where they have taken Him.” Mary is every woman, every man. There are inevitebly times in our life when we feel the desolation of loss – loss of loved ones, loss of hope, even loss of faith, when the Lord himself does indeed seem to have been the dynamics of how we come to faith. Peter sees the empty tomb, but says nothing. He needs more time, more experience before he can come to full faith. But he remains open to the possibility. John is able to cross the threshold of faith by holding his sense of loss and his experience of the emptiness of the tomb on the one hand, and bringing it into connection with his memory of the Lord on the other. An empty tomb is not proof of resurrection. Religious scholars may argue over it, like archeologists quarreling over king Tut’s tomb, but our faith does not rest on physical proof. „The time life you have is hidden with Christ in God,” St. Paul tells the Colossians. It’s not the tomb, but our faith does not rest on physical proof. „The life you have is hidden with Christ in God,” Paul tells the Colossians. It’s not in the tomb that we will find the proof we seek. The resurrection – our encounter with the risen Lord – can actually happen within the hidden chamber of our own hearts. That is where we meet Him today – in our searching, in our prayer, in our pain and in our persevering love.