Acts 2:14a, 36-41
Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17
1 Peter 1:17-23
Luke 24:13-35
Last week was a hard week.
It wasn’t a bad week – there were some lovely highs – but it was a hard week.
Too many folks I know are grieving.
There’s still so much uncertainty about what comes next.
And, all week I dreaded having to preach on today’s Gospel.
You see, this is one of my favorite stories in all of scripture.
This amazing post-resurrection encounter with Jesus that culminates with these two disciples knowing him in the breaking of the bread.
And their eyes were opened and they recognized him.
That is where I have always most deeply connected to this story – they knew him in the breaking of the bread.
And this week reading that was just painful.
You see, I am a product of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer.
This prayer book recovered the centrality of the two great sacraments – baptism and Eucharist.
Some of you remember when Morning Prayer was the norm, with communion once a month.
But for the last forty years, and my entire life in the church, Eucharist has been central to how we worship.
We come close to God, and God comes close to us, in the bread and wine – broken, blessed, and shared.
The last time we shared this holy meal together was on March 8.
And folks, I am missing sharing communion so much.
I miss participating in the sacred mystery of it.
I miss being fed in the way only holy communion can feed us.
I miss the connection of sharing the bread among us.
And so, reading and re-reading the Gospel this week honestly slayed me.
I know we’re in Eastertide, but my heart felt like it was back in Holy Week – in a place of lament and loss.
And I know I’m not alone in this.
Some of you have mentioned missing Eucharist as well, and as you can imagine it is the focus of LOTS on conversation on social media in churchy circles.
There are many takes on the break from communion, after all we’ll Episcopalians and so we have many strong and varied opinions.
And of course, many churches have chosen to continue livestreaming the full Eucharist with the priest a one or two servers as a way of continuing to offer something familiar.
But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re not getting to do this together –
- this thing that is important to so many of us
- this thing that grounds us
- this thing that means church to us
What this week’s Gospel did for me was to uncover the grieving I am experiencing over this loss – which is about both the loss of the sacrament and the loss of being physically gathered with all of you.
And it made me read the Gospel with new eyes.
What’s there other than the breaking of the bread?
What’s there, is:
- Jesus meeting Cleopas and his wife on the road and entering into their grieving and uncertainty with them
- Jesus teaching them about who he is, and who’s they are
And there’s also something I never noticed before.
After they recognizing Jesus in the breaking of the bread, this is what they say to each other:
Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking on the road, and while he was opening the scriptures to us?
The focus for them of their encounter was not just that they knew him in the bread – it was in the very Word of God.
Folks, the Word of God is what we have to sustain us right now.
Whether we experience it in Morning Prayer like we are now doing on Sundays, or in the Liturgy of the Word (minus the Liturgy of the Table) like we did on Easter Day –
- The Word of God is what we have to feast on during this extraordinary time
And a feast it is.
While we may be fasting from communion we still have a banquet prepared by God to nourish and sustain us.
For this, let us bless the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
She was Cleopas’ wife, and they were heading home, duh! One of the Marys at the cross, sister-in-law of Jesus’ mother, which makes Cleopas Jesus’ uncle. At least that’s all pretty probable, given the Gospel accounts.