The edge of awareness

Now you see him, now you don’t.  These are the games played by our risen Lord on the road to Emmaus.  Not vindictively - not spitefully; there he is, large as life, but something keeps them from recognizing Jesus…and once they do recognize him, “…he vanished from their sight.”

Now you’ll forgive me for seeming to make light of this small parcel of the gospel, but it is a baffling encounter.  We might expect the disciples to be overcome, and therefore not really on top of things - why should they expect to see the ‘dead among the living’?  - But Jesus behaviour seems mischievous to me.  “Hi - where you headed - what are you talking about…?”  He drags out he game - he doesn’t call them by name, or give them a clue that the unthinkable  has happened.  He gives them a little lesson in prophetic history, and wrangles an invitation to dinner, and then - at the breaking of the bread - the penny drops…and Jesus disappears.

It’s not, at first glance, an encounter that puts anyone in a positive light.  Jesus playing tricks; his friends, not exactly the most attentive people on the planet…

Now don’t get me wrong - I know how hard it can be to properly identify someone when your point of contact is suddenly changed.  When you see someone in an unexpected place, or see them in a different role.  The question I most often ask my wife (after ‘chance encounters’ in public events) is “where do I know them from…?”  Faces I know that can’t be matched (in my head, at least) with their proper names.  An unfortunate condition for a minister to suffer.  I’ve developed tricks to get the answers I need (beyond asking Lea) - sometimes they work; sometimes they don’t.  

But there is always something that will trigger recognition.  A favourite phrase; a particular mannerism; a shared experience.  That is what works for the baffled disciples - an act that recalls their final meal together. 

Once the small matter of identity is overcome, they must once again deal with Jesus’ sudden disappearance - but the relief (of recognition) and the joy of rediscovery have overcome any past difficulties.  They race back to town - the get caught up with the news - they share their own sense of delight and wonder and the begin to live into the mystery of resurrection life.  And suddenly, the story makes sense again…and it changed with a simple meal.

It is not hard to name the numerous ‘somethings’ that keep us from recognizing the presence of the risen Jesus.  We are easily distracted - often enough held captive by strong and difficult emotions.  Grief, anger, fear - all these can claim our full attention.  Like those two ‘escaping’ Jerusalem for Emmaus, our anxiety can keep us from seeing the whole truth.  Fear narrows our vision.  Grief blots out all hope.  Such is the price we often pay for our humanity; God is ‘with us’ but our awareness is blunted - our expectations are not met - we cannot see past the nose on our face.  

And while there are many human conditions that conspire to keep the truth from us, it seems that our salvation comes in simple and unexpected ways…

It begins with a conversation that brings perspective…and a flicker of hope.  The disciples tell their story to one who (seemingly) does not know it - and the horror of the events around Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion begin to loosen its grip on them.  Jesus offers them a look at the broader picture - his explanations from Scripture are not the winning hand in a proof-text battle, but context for two people who are overwhelmed by one part of the story.  But the conversation - the exploration of Scripture alone is not enough.  Though their hearts may have ‘burned within them’ while Jesus offered some context for their misery, they did not see who Jesus was until he sat down at table with them.

The humble act of sharing a meal; the resonant ritual of breaking bread.

It is no accident that the Sacraments are intensely personal and relational - (dare I say intimate?) - water on the forehead - words spoken, bread broken, names given, wine shared…”This is my body, broken for you…” - we recognize the necessity of relationship as we link our small stories to the grand majesty of God’s promise.  In our darkest moments we are rescued by small, personal acts that reconnect us to the joyful potential of the new thing that God reveals in the risen Christ.  That is the wonder in this strange gospel moment; good news that cuts through the gloom of grief - the mischief of mourning - and brings energy and delight to those who thought all was lost.  Such is the gift of Easter to us, in a world intent on frustrating our joy, Jesus walks with us - in plain sight - ready to surprise us with the simplest, most personal moments of recognition.