Third Sunday of Easter
Listen to audio version:
Readings: Acts 2: 14a and 36-41; Luke 24: 13-35
Back in the parish of St. John’s, Sidcup, we had an art group, which met in the parish room on a Monday afternoon. Eight or ten of them – places were strictly limited – would let their imaginations wander as they painted or sketched.
Sometimes the inevitable bowl of fruit or vase of flowers was presented for them to have ago at. The friendly vicar would call in to say ‘hello’ to the assembled group, but their redoubtable leader Victoria did not always welcome my visits as she said the artists’ concentration was disturbed.
Victoria developed a bad leg infection which turned out to be gangrene, and eventually had to have part of a leg amputated. I was dreading visiting her in hospital for the first time after the operation, but to my surprise she was in great spirits, and invited me to examine the stump to see what a good job the surgeon had done!
She eventually returned home to her very small terraced house, and despite many people’s efforts, we never managed to get her back to a church service, or to the art group. So I began visits to her with Holy Communion.Victoria became more or less confined to one room, but in that room, hanging on the wall was a small reproduction of Caravaggio’s masterpiece The Supper at Emmaus.
She found herself more and more transfixed by this scene. She was not a person to talk much about her faith, so I was quite surprised when she opened up to me about this painting. She was not able to get to worship in church, so the church went to her, but she felt Jesus was in the room with her constantly, as much as he was with the two disciples in the painting.
When Victoria died a couple of years later, her niece was very keen that I should take the print which had meant so much to her aunt.The painting The Supper at Emmaus dates to 1601, and I am going to read a comment on it by Bishop Nicholas Holtam, in a lovely book ‘The Art of Worship.’ Caravaggio has depicted the moment of revelation. Jesus does not have the traditional beard so is not recognised until the familiar blessing of the bread.
To the disciples, though not the waiter, it is startling. The dish of ripe fruit is about to tip off the table towards us. The disciple on the right is wearing a scallop shell, the badge of the pilgrim, someone ‘on the way.’ The other disciple’s elbow pushes through a hole in his jacket and the painting’s canvas as it pierces our space.
The gap on this side of the table invites us to join the meal in which Christ meets us. [My friend Victoria obviously found that she had a place at that table.]
The stories of the resurrection in the Gospels, concludes Bishop Holtam, are transitory moments significant enough to change lives for ever.I don’t suppose Caravaggio considered for a moment that his creation would prove to be of great comfort to a disabled lady in a distant country some 400 years later.
Let’s go back to the beginning of the story.‘The road to Emmaus’ – says John Pridmore – ‘is not on any map. It may be the trail round the supermarket or the walk to the surgery or the holiday flight. On every Emmaus road there is the possibility of a stranger falling in step with us. We may or may not recognize him.
But the stranger who caught up with Cleopas and his friend on the Emmaus Road was not a stranger. How could they have been so slow on the uptake – those two disciples? Not to recognise Jesus – the very person they had been talking about, who then came up and walked along with them? It certainly took a long time for the penny to drop; in fact, not until they got inside their own home – maybe an hour or two after they met him.
Of course, we don’t know how often Cleopas and his friend had met Jesus before that incident, but they obviously had met him, or they would not have recognised him later.But maybe it isn’t quite so unusual. You’d be surprised how many people don’t recognise me in the street, especially if I’m not wearing my clerical collar. The point is – we get so used to seeing people in a certain place, or fulfilling a certain role, that when we see them out of that context, it takes us a while to catch on.
A preacher called Calvin Wittman notes four stages in the unfolding of this story of Jesus and the two disciples on the Emmaus Road.Firstly – Jesus seeks us. Wittman believes that God deliberately kept the two disciples from recognising Jesus because they weren’t quite ready for it.
They knew about Jesus and had been following all the events in Jerusalem, but they had misunderstood quite a bit as well. They had hoped Jesus was the one to save Israel – they were right there, but when it all ended in apparent defeat, that was the end of it for them. They’d heard the women saying that he had risen again, but they’d rejected that possibility.
In fact, despite knowing all about Jesus and wanting him to be the Messiah, they didn’t really have much faith in him. But they needed to talk, and hoped to make some sense of what had been going on.How is it with us? Do we expect Jesus to do great things and to change situations, or are we stuck in a mindset that won’t be open to new possibilities? What does your faith, my faith, really mean?
So, Jesus sought out Cleopas and his friend, because he knew they needed help and encouragement.Calvin Wittman’s second point is that Jesus opens our eyes. The story tells of the ability of Jesus to make sense of things. On the road he interpreted the scriptures to Cleopas and his friend.
Another version says he ‘opened up’ the scriptures. To my mind, there’s a hint of excitement here. A bit like the Ethiopian eunuch that Philip met, then baptized, in Acts chapter 8. He was reading the scriptures, but did not understand. Let us not forget that so much of what we know and believe about Jesus comes from the bible.
And it is staggering that so many Christians know very little of what is in that book, and seldom turn its pages. The truths contained in the scriptures open our eyes to how Jesus is.Then, thirdly, in Calvin Whittman’s assessment, Jesus reveals himself. It happened to Cleopas and his friend as they sat around the table with Jesus and shared a meal.
Notice that Jesus did not force himself on them. When they got to the house, he made as if to go on, but they invited him in. When it came to the breaking of the bread – that was when they recognised him. They must have been with him before when bread had been broken, maybe at the feeding of the five thousand, or even at the Last Supper. It is in the intimacy of fellowship that Jesus reveals himself to us.
That often happens when we are with our Christian friends in a church fellowship setting, such as we are here this morning. So Jesus reveals himself, then, fourthly, Jesus moves us to share. It wasn’t just that the two friends invited Jesus in for the meal, but that when they recognised him and realised the significance of that precious moment, they just had to go and tell the others back in Jerusalem, even though it meant another seven-mile walk.
You shouldn’t keep the good news of Jesus Christ to yourself.Then, as we heard, Cleopas and his friend kicked themselves for not having realised what was going on. “Didn’t our hearts burn within us on the way, as this stranger opened the scriptures to us?”Judith Dimond concludes: “Contemplate how Jesus was made known in the action of the breaking of the bread.
Contemplate how you make Jesus known to others – through the hospitality of a shared meal, through building up another’s sense of worth, by listening to them, through sacrificing your time or your pleasure for their needs; through a wise word or generous gesture.
Companion Jesus, walk with me when I journey, and stay with me when I come to rest. May my heart burn within me when we meet, and then may I be ready to take the next step towards your will for me. Amen.