Emmaus

Sometimes priests run out of ideas. That happens to me when I have several big presentations to give. So, I tend to borrow some ideas. I did for this homily from a website that I trust. If you want to read the original and then read my adaptations, here's the site.

http://www.munachi.com/a/eastera3.htm

Otherwise, my adaptations are below. Be sure to check back this Sunday for a big announcement in my homily!

Imagine, for a second, if you were not one of the disciples on the road to Emmaus but one of the disciples that bid them farewell as they walked away. It is morning, and two of our depressed friends leave our company in Jerusalem and head to the country to get away from all the craziness of the past few days. Then, late in the evening of the same day, they come back to rejoin us full of excitement and joy. Wouldn’t we all wonder what happened to them to cause this drastic change of heart? Wouldn't we all think that they may have had too much to drink? How would we react when we heard that they met a stranger on the way, a stranger who did not quite look like Jesus but who turned out to be him?
Would we remind them of the first rule that our parents taught to us, “Never speak to strangers!”? What would have happened had Cleopas and his companion followed this parental advice? Jesus probably would have passed them by and they would have never had the transforming encounter with the risen Lord. Who knows how many times the risen Lord has passed by us and we did not recognize him or experience his transforming grace because of our fear of strangers?
Cleopas and his friend were trying to distance themselves from the incredible disaster that befell the apostles and followers of Jesus with his shameful death at the hands of the very Roman soldiers that they thought he had come to defeat. But even as they tried to get away from it, they could not get their minds off it. They were talking about it all along the way. We have probably all had one of these situations in life when the only thing that we want to forget is the first thing that comes to our minds. Our hearts were filled with disappointment, sadness and deep depression all at once, as were the hearts of Cleopas and his fellow traveler.
Suddenly a stranger catches up with them along the way and says to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along”. The most natural answer we would probably give is, “Hey, mind your own business?” That’s the typical response you get from people who operate on the principle of fear of strangers. But Cleopas and his friend were different. All they said was, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days”. And this led to a frank and profound discussion that set their cold hearts aflame with insight and inspiration. All because they trusted a stranger and were disposed to inform and be informed by him!
Cleopas and his companion shared with the stranger all the way through. Not only were they ready to share their secret faith with him, but they went all the way and shared their meal and shelter with him as well. It was in the process of this sharing that the moment of revelation occurred and they suddenly realized that the one whom they had accepted all along as a helpless stranger was indeed Jesus, the answer to their hearts’ questions. This discovery that the one in whom they had trusted, Jesus Christ, was indeed alive and not dead, gave new meaning to their lives, their faith and their vocation. Suddenly able to release all fear and fatigue they got up and went back that same night to rejoin the company of the apostles and followers of Jesus and share the good news with them that they had met the risen Lord in the person of a stranger.
This, in turn, leads us to two slightly different but interconnected ideas. It was in the breaking of the bread that these frustrated disciples saw the risen Lord. This points to the central importance of the breaking of the bread, which is what we would today call the celebration of the mass. We are all aware of the declining number of priests and I’ve spoken before about how important it is to encourage our children and grandchildren to become priests. Yet, today, I renew this call for us to keep encouraging any young man that has the qualities to become a priest to courageously follow God’s call. It is, oftentimes, only in perseverance that someone will realize the gifts and talents that they have received. And, as always, if you are a young man who is interested in priesthood, my ear is always open to hear from you and pray for you.
But the celebration of the Eucharist, as we saw in this story, is built upon the notion of hospitality. In other words, we can have priests, servers, lectors, music minsters, and everyone else but still not recognize the presence of the Lord among us if we aren’t open to it. For a long time we emphasized the presence of Christ in the cup and host, which is fitting since the real sacramental presence of Christ is the most fundamental. But, Christ is also present in the gathered assembly. In other words, whenever two or three gather together in Jesus name he is there present to us in a special way. That means that we can’t come to church and just ignore those people around us. We must be like those disciples and not let the frustrations we bring with us from the outside these walls make us so hard hearted as to mistreat the presence of Christ within them. It’s all right to smile at one another and say “Hello” as someone enters. In fact, it’s not only all right to do that, it should be expected that you would do that. We should especially do this for new people who come to our church, the strangers in our midst. We cannot get to the point where new people in our church are seen simply as new financial contributors or new people to add figures to our count in order to keep us open. As I said before, being a follower of Christ means that we a don’t just think of mass as a time for personal private prayer but as a hospitality opportunity to be the body of Christ as a community gathered in Jesus’ name.