Broken bread at the heart of our world

Luke 24:13-35

Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

By RvdWeyer - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27519876

When I read the story of the 'Road to Emmaus' now, my attention is drawn to the physical hospitality of two friends, inviting a man they had met on the road to break bread with them. Their joyful recognition of Jesus happens in a moment of shared eating together. It is this joyful recognition that sends them back 'that same hour' to Jerusalem, to share the incredible, life-changing news that they have just seen and heard and smelt and touched and tasted.

This Eucharistic pattern, of gathering in the presence of God as the scriptures are read and bread is taken, blessed, broken and given, is part of the rhythm of Christian discipleship. Indeed, I believe that our liturgy is 'ritualized discipleship': it is both mirror and preparation for our lives in the world, in which we try to love God and love our neighbour. The Eucharist is thus for me only one half of the broader pattern of our lives: we move from the world to the altar, and from the altar to the world.

Perhaps it is harder in these times to imagine ourselves as one of the disciples on the road with Jesus. The current circumstances in which we live make inviting strangers into our homes to break bread with us much more difficult. For most of us, if we access the Eucharist at all, it is from a distance. Having been taken, blessed and broken, the bread cannot be given - and so we cannot receive it. How then can we run back to Jerusalem, having suddenly recognized Christ in our midst?

At the moment, perhaps we feel more like the disciples on the road at the very beginning of this passage, before Jesus arrives - as we walk along, like the two disciples did, with our hearts full of the suffering of Christ. Or, perhaps we feel like we're stuck in that moment when Jesus disappears - as if in this time lies in a moment suspended between more 'ordinary' experiences of life. Maybe some of us really do feel like the disciples as their hearts burned within them, or as they headed back to Jerusalem, filled with the joy of Easter.

However we each react to this passage, our response can reveal Christ's presence in our lives, and in our world. Just like the Eucharist, our world holds the full variety of human experience. This is a time of great suffering that affects the whole of life, and a time which worsens the injustice suffered by so many. Christ is crucified in those who are sick, their families and those who care for them. Christ is crucified in those who have lost their livelihoods, those living in poverty, those who cannot feed their families. Christ is crucified in all who suffer abuse at the hands of others.

At the same time, this is a world continually being brought into being by a loving God, who bestows on us blessings great and small. This is a world filled with beauty and joy, with simple grace. This is a world filled with random acts of kindness, with wise decision-making, dedicated service and great sacrifice. This is a world in which people hold precious hope for the future.

In these times, as in any other time, our task as Christians is to allow Christ to live fully in us. We must make space within our own hearts for the the suffering Christ of the Passion, who moves us to respond in service. But we must equally make space for the risen Christ of Easter, who moves us to celebration.

Christ is with us, very near, at the heart of our world. The broken-hearted joy of the Eucharistic feast has been with us all along - bread is being broken, even now, in our midst.