A lot of you may not be able to give me a positive answer to my question for today, but I’m going to ask it anyway. The question is this: How many of you carry an American Express card? You may think this is a strange question. I’m not pushing you to have an American Express card or a MasterCard or Visa or Discovery – or any other particular form of plastic. But in reflecting upon today’s readings, I was reminded of a story about something that happened several weeks ago.
Do you remember when George Bush visited a first grade classroom and a little boy doubted this man was really the President and asked for some identification? The story goes that President Bush looked through his wallet and pulled out his American Express card as proof of who he really was. This got me to wondering whether the risen Jesus might have had an easier time of it if he had carried an American Express card.
The real question for each one of us today might be: How do you recognize the presence of the Lord? What sort of proof of identify do you require? The focus for today’s reflection is this: how do I recognize the presence of the risen Lord? Do I, myself, know him by his touch and by his word?
Our first reading from the acts of the apostles tells us of the words Peter addrssed to the Jewish leaders who had acted out of ignorance and had allowed the Messiah to be crucified. They had heard the words of the prophets and had not believed. They had even heard the words of Jesus, himself, and had not recognized his presence. It seems we can grow up with the scriptures which tell us about God and about Christ and still not be able to recognize him when he is in our midst. We can see and not understand. Today’s gospel reading addresses this issue: of seeing but not understanding.
Perhaps, in order to appreciate what we heard in today’s gospel, we need to recall last Sunday’s reading. We may ask why, in today’s reading, did the disciples not immediately recognize the risen Christ, when last Sunday we heard they had seen him, and even doubting Thomas could call him, “My Lord and my God”. The problem is that we have heard two different accounts of the appearance of the risen Lord.
Last week, we heard John’s version of this event. Today, we are dropped into the middle of Luke’s story. There is a missing part in today’s account of the appearance. The part we’re missing is the story of the road to Emmaus. You may recall how, according to Luke, Jesus met two of his followers on their way to a village seven miles from Jerusalem on that fateful first day of the week following his crucifixion. Jesus walked with them and interpreted for them all of the Old Testament writings which referred to the Messiah. But they did not recognize him until he broke bread with them at that inn, there, in the village of Emmaus. Immediately, they rushed back those seven miles to Jerusalem and sought out the other followers of Jesus to tell them that they had seen him. This is where today’s gospel reading begins: “The disciples recounted what had happened on the road to Emmaus and how they had come to know Jesus in the breaking of the bread.”
As the two followers were telling the others about this marvelous occurrence, Jesus appeared to all of them. And what was their reaction? It was not joy and happiness. It was panic and fright, out-right terror. Why did they act that way? Had Jesus not told them he must suffer and die? Had he not said he would rise from the dead and return to them? Did they not listen to him? It appears they may have listened, but did not really hear; or they heard but did not really understand.
There’s a real difference between hearing and understanding. Those disciples may have heard with their ears, but not understood with their hearts. They had “reason” but not “faith”. Faith is not reason. Faith relies upon intimacy and experience. Faith goes beyond knowing something in our mind. Faith becomes understanding with our heart. Logic and reason would say a dead companion could not be standing with them there in that upper room, any more than logic and reason can say our risen Lord is with us now. But how did Jesus overcome the power of reason and logic with them? How did he lead them, and perhaps us, to the reality of his presence?
The first request he made of them was to look at his hands and his feet. To touch him. He did not remind them of theological arguments for his presence; but rather he demanded they experience his presence. He asked for the intimacy of a touch so that they might know him.
Once he had done that, what did he next ask of them? He asked for food, to share with them a bite to eat. What can be of greater comfort to his disciples then to remind them of the joy-filled meals they had shared together? All of those fellowship gatherings when he told them his stories. His request reminded them of the last meal they had shared before the agonies which followed on the way to the cross. But all that suffering was now completed. Once more, it is time to share a meal. And with the sharing of the meal, came true knowledge. In the words we heard today: “Then he opened their minds to the understanding of the scriptures.”
The question might be asked: What meaning does all of this have for us today? How are we to experience the risen Christ? How are we to know him through the intimacy of his touch, through a fellowship meal with him, and through his opening of our minds so that we may truly understand?
The answer has, I’m sure, occurred to you, especially during this Easter season, for truly, the Easter season is the season for our renewal of the Eucharist. During these past weeks, we remember the Lord’s Supper. We have experienced being part of the first communion of our new Catholic Christians.
Each time we are part of the Eucharistic celebration we share in the liturgy of the word and the liturgy of the table. We are called to walk with Jesus. He does not ask for the time it would take to walk seven miles. But he does ask us to listen to him along the way. And to talk with him in prayer and in silent reflection during this time we spend with him. We are given the opportunity to open our minds and hearts through the scriptures. We are reminded that the liturgy of the word is not a bible study course. The words of scripture, and the words of a homily, are not to educate our brains, but rather to nourish our hearts.
In the liturgy of the table which follows, we are given the opportunity, once more, to nourish our spirits as well. Here we are called to partake of a fellowship meal in which we can touch the Lord, himself; in which he can touch us through the mystery which appears to us as bread and wine. Yet our true understanding, our true knowledge of Jesus, the risen Lord, does not stop here. Rather, this is where it begins.
At the completion of today’s gospel reading, Jesus sends his friends forth out of that chamber in order for them to be witnesses to all nations. They are to preach, as it was said in the translation we heard a few minutes ago, to preach “Penance for the remission of sins”. That is an awkward translation. The Greek word which has been translated as “penance,” is our old stand-by, “Metanoia.” At the beginning of Lent, we heard that same call, the call of John the Baptist. But the word we used then was “repent,” “re-form” our life and believe in the Good News.
What is this “Good News?” Our Good News consists of many events.
● Of the many ways we are to change our lives.
● Of the many actions we are called to perform as we change our lives.
● Of the commandments we are to put into practice so we can truly know the Lord, so we can touch him; and feel his touch.
In our reading from the First Letter of John we heard: “the one who claims, ‘I have known the Lord,’ without keeping his commandments, is a liar; in such a one there is no truth.” And what are his commandments? We have repeatedly heard the greatest commandment is to love one another. And how are we to do this? Again, the entire writings of the New Testament give us stories and descriptions of what we must do. The gospel of Luke, which gives us the story of the meeting on the road to Emmaus, tells us stories of other roads to be traveled. It is Luke who gives us the story of the good Samaritan who traveled on the road to Jericho. It is, also, in Luke we hear of the father who rushes out to meet his son on the road when the son returns from his prodigal ways. Each of us is called upon to touch others on the roads of our lives, and to be touched by others. Each of us is called to rush out to meet the returning one who was lost.
We would like to say, if I had been present in that upper room, I would have believed. If I had been on the road to Jericho, I would have stopped to heal. I, too, would rush out on the road to forgive someone who had deserted me and all I represented. We were, of course, not there. Instead, we are here – here with a wife or husband, or a child, who needs our touch. Here with a boss or colleague, or a friend, who needs our healing. Here with the living; and with the dying.
There is no plastic card which identifies me as being a Christian. Unlike American Express, there is no “Christian Express”. Instead, there is only the ancient way of recognizing a Christian: the one which says: “See how much they love one another.” How then, do you recognize Jesus, the Christ, – in yourself and in others?
Third Sunday of Easter; April 14, 1991
Acts 3:13-15, 17-19; 1 Jh 2:1-5; Lk 24: 35-48