The gospel for this Third Sunday of Easter is Luke’s story of the disciples en route to Emmaus. These two had hoped that Jesus would be the answer to all their hopes. His execution had left them distraught and confused. As they walked towards the setting sun, a stranger joined them who seemed to know nothing of the tragedy that had unfolded during the previous days. This stranger, however, was uniquely aware of the Jewish Scriptures, especially the “suffering servant” songs of the prophet Isaiah. Despite the obvious references to a Messiah who was to be sacrificed, these two did not recognize their companion until he broke bread with them. They had offered him hospitality; yet he fed them as “host” and thereupon disappeared. Isn’t this exactly what happens at Mass. Our stories of joy and woe mingle with those of our ancestors. We reaffirm our faith and offer intercessory prayers for all. The Lord himself is “made present” as we “do this in memory” of Him and “give thanks” for the gift of salvation. Once fed with the “bread of life,” we are commissioned to be Christ’s presence in the world.
It has been a long time for many of us since our last reception of Holy Communion. In our longing for what was and our hoping for what will be, we often get anxious and frequently overlook what is. In our zeal for holiness, it is easy to get discouraged by our failures and forget that the life of grace is not restricted to the monk on the mountain top or to one who performs extraordinary deeds of charity. In the midst of the religious tensions between Catholics and Protestants in the sixteenth century, the Bishop of Geneva, Francis de Sales, wrote that “the bee collects honey from flowers in such a way as to do the least damage or destruction to them, and he leaves them whole, undamaged and fresh, just as he found them. True devotion does still better. Not only does it not injure any sort of calling or occupation, it even embellishes and enhances it.” (From The Introduction to the Devout Life) In the seventeenth century, a French Jesuit by the name of Jean-Pierre De Caussade wrote in a similar fashion that “to achieve the height of holiness, people must realize that all they count as trivial and worthless is what can make them holy.” This author made popular the term “the sacrament of the present moment.” Of this concept St. Therese wrote: “If I did not simply live from one moment to the next, it would be impossible for me to keep my patience. I can see only the present, I forget the past and I take good care not to think about the future. We get discouraged and despair because we brood about the past and the future. It is such folly to pass one’s time fretting, instead of resting quietly on the heart of Jesus.”
At the end of the day, we are invited to reflect on the course of the day – to give thanks for the blessings and beg forgiveness for our failures. As we become more conscious of “living in the moment,” I wonder if there might be more opportunities to exclaim with the Emmaus disciples: “Were not our hearts burning inside as…?”