In the Breaking of the Bread

Luke 24:13-35

A sermon by Kathy Toivanen at EMUC, 4/3/2005

The Sunday after Easter Sunday often called "Low Sunday". According to one liturgical resource, it is called Low Sunday because its occurrence is unimportant after the climax of Easter. So here we are gathered on an "unimportant day" on a Sunday lacking in significance given that last Sunday we went over the top in our celebration of the resurrection. But before you pack it in and close up your bulletin, put away your hymnbook and head out the door, I invite you to stay a bit longer. Low Sundays or low Mondays or Tuesdays or low weeks are where we spend most of our time. I think that we would all agree that those over the top or mountain top days are wonderful, but they are not plentiful over the course of our lives.

Most of our days are ordinary, where the light is less dazzling, the emotions are less intense, the passions are more subdued, the alleluias are quieter. Discovering how to live faithfully in those days can be a challenge. Recognizing the face of Christ or the voice of the Spirit in those everyday times can be a struggle for us.

We long for the high drama and the excitement of being swept off our feet by an experience of faith that will assure us beyond any doubt that God is indeed with us and that God loves us.

Sometimes I’m sure that some of us have said in so many words – look God or Jesus, if you want me to be faithful, if you want me to live the way you want, just give me a powerful and beyond a doubt experience of your presence and I’ll be your faithful follower forever!

Just think of all the time I could stop wasting in doubts and dark nights of the soul, in choosing the wrong path, in getting sidetracked by what isn’t really important, or in a wishy-washy response to your call to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly in your world.

Just think of how more effective all of us could be as Christians if daily we could affirm beyond any doubt, that Christ is indeed for us and with us. If we could say with conviction "I have seen the Christ there and there and there and there…

Cleopas and his companion, on the road to Emmaus may well have been thinking the same thoughts. An empty tomb and the incredible story of a bunch of women were not much proof of the presence of the risen Christ. How could they sustain their faith with such a story? Fragile from the grief of the last few days, they need something with more substance to nourish their hope and commitment.

As they walk along, a stranger joins them – a perfectly natural occurrence since travel on those Palestinian roads is a lot safer in a group than alone, and besides a long journey on foot is made more pleasant with companions to while away the hot and dusty hours.

The stranger, wanting to make conversation, asks what they were talking about. Amazingly enough, he knows nothing of the last few days, nothing of their pain and grief. But there is something in his manner, an open heart perhaps, eyes that have a depth of understanding, a willingness to truly listen – whatever it is about him, Cleopas and his companion find that they are pouring out the entire story of their life with Jesus, and in particular, the agony of the last few days.

The stranger, in turn, seems to have some insight of his own. He retells some of the key stories of their ancestors in the faith, and somehow in the retelling of the stories, they are able to hear and understand anew. Things that never clicked before somehow begin to fit and the puzzle of their lives and their faith has a little more clarity than it did a few hours ago. In spite of the grief they are carrying, their hearts do feel a bit lighter.

As they reach the village they urge the stranger to stay with them for the night. As they share a meal together, the stranger breaks the bread, blesses it and shares it with them. In a heartbeat, they see clearly, they know they are looking at the face of Christ. Then the moment is over and they are left wondering and amazed.

The story of the Road to Emmaus is a wonderful story because it is such a rich affirmation of the Christ who meets us in the Low Sundays and in the ordinary days of our lives. This is the Christ who may meet us in someone we hardly know, someone who crosses our path unexpectedly. This is the Christ who joins us and walks with us on the paths we may have traveled so often that we scarcely see the scenery any more. This is the Christ who helps us to see that landscape afresh – who points out to us those buds of new life poking forth from the ground of our lives.

This is the Christ of the heartfelt conversation. This is the Christ who listens to the outpouring of doubt, grief, anger confusion or despair.

This is the Christ who restores our memory, reminding us that we are not cut off, we are not without roots or without hope, but rather we are a people with a remarkable history, where the love, justice and compassion of God have been woven through the Low Sundays and the mountain top experiences of our lives.

This is the Christ who sits down with us to a simple meal. This is the Christ who opens our eyes to recognize the presence and the blessing of God in the sharing of an ordinary everyday loaf of bread.

When you think of all of the rituals of the Christian Church, particularly those rituals we claim to be most holy - the sacraments of baptism and of communion, it is indeed quite amazing and quite wonderful that these rituals are ordinary, everyday activities employing simple basic elements.

Baptism is a simple ritual of pouring water on the head. Communion is the simple act of breaking and sharing a loaf of bread, and drinking the fruit of the vine. Nothing complex, nothing over the top, nothing extraordinary – at yet in such simple actions, we recognize Christ among us.

Certainly, it is a joy to celebrate those extraordinary revelations of Christ, those awe-filled and over the top experiences, but far more crucial to our daily life, is our welcome and recognition of Christ in the ordinary and everyday.

For I believe that if we expect to encounter Christ in our every day activities, Christ will indeed appear before us. We will see his eyes in the face of a stranger inviting us to open the doors of our country to the refugee and the doors of this church to the newcomer or the neighbour in need.

We will experience Christ’s compassion in the comfort of a friend and we will learn that as we extend that same compassion to others, he is there to steady and strengthen us.

We will discover the wisdom and guiding truth of Christ as we gather together to retell and remember the stories of God’s life-long journey with us and this good creation.

In small groups with open study and honest reflection and shared questions, we may discover that our hearts burn with a depth of understanding we could not have imagined.

And in simple actions of hospitality and sharing

• the cup of coffee with a friend
• the people that are fed through our contributions to the food bank or to global projects
• the neighbour’s casserole that we receive in times of grief or ill health
• the cup of water that we hold to the lips of an aging parent or the clean water we work to restore in our lakes and rivers
• the festive celebration of a significant milestone
• the bread and cup we will soon share in this service

Such moments may not be full of razzle dazzle, but they are the moments that sustain, nourish and fill our lives with the rich blessings of Christ’s love.

As we embrace such moments, we can say with conviction,

I have seen the Christ there, and there and there and there…

Thanks be to God. Amen.