Brief synopsis of the readings: Right after Pentecost (when the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus’ disciples) Peter addressed those gathered. He recounted how God sent Jesus but they (the crowd) had him killed. Nevertheless God brought him back from the depths of evil. Peter then reminded them that as great as David was, David died and remained dead while Jesus lives. “Exalted at God’s right hand, he first received the promised Holy Spirit from the Father, then poured this Spirit out on us.” Luke’s Gospel recounts the Road To Emmaus. Two of the disciples were walking from Jerusalem discussing the events of Easter when they were joined by a stranger who asked what they were talking about. Astonished that this man didn’t know about Jesus they told him about the events, including the empty tomb. The stranger reproached them for their lack of faith and told them about Jesus’ promise. He then recounted everything back to Moses that foretold Jesus’ journey. On arrival at Emmaus they invited this man to join them. At dinner he blessed the bread. At that point the eyes of the two were opened and they recognized the stranger was Jesus and Jesus disappeared. Then they recognized that their hearts burned as they listened to him. When they returned to Jerusalem they told the others about this and how they recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

Regardless of the circumstances when someone we loves dies we go through at least a little denial. Countless times when speaking with someone in the depths of grief I’ve heard someone say: “I keep expecting him to come through the door and tell me this is all a bad dream.” But truthfully, if our loved one did come through the door wouldn’t we recognize him? Why didn’t the two recognized Jesus? I have a hard time imagining that he wore a wig and dark glasses to hide his identity. I think it was something more.

I once lived with a priest who told me a great story. Near the parish a man lived in a newspaper stuffed hovel: the home wasn’t very sturdy and he was a hoarder. Apparently there was just enough space for a small bed where this man slept and the rest was newspapers. One night the place caught fire and it burned in a matter of minutes. Because of all the newspapers it burned hot and while the paramedics found the charred remains of a body there was no way to identify who it was and everyone assumed it was the body of the man who lived there. Imagine the priest’s surprise a few days later when the man knocked on the door of the rectory. As it turns out he had gone away for a few days and a friend was staying there; it was the friend’s body they found. And even though the priest “knew” this man was dead he immediately recognized him.

I say this because I suspect there is a direct link to our Gospel. The walk to Emmaus probably took about two hours and they spent that whole time talking about Jesus and yet they didn’t know it was him; it was only in the breaking of the bread that they recognized him.

From our perspective it’s easy to draw the bright line from “breaking of the bread” to our understanding of the Eucharist. But it wasn’t necessarily so obvious for our two friends. If the Last Supper was the first Eucharist this was the second. But we can see them putting the pieces together and recognizing the importance of this act. They may not recognize weekly mass as we now understand it but they were placing the first few building blocks.

And as for us? Well, I like to think that we can place ourselves in the place of these two disciples in our celebration of the mass. When Jesus was telling them about all the foreshadowing in the Scripture (going back to Moses) we can see how we place those same readings earlier in mass. As their hearts burned, so should ours. Last week I suggested that we shouldn’t put too much effort into replicating the earliest of the Acts of the Apostles when there was no conflict and they shared everything in common. We’ll read a good bit of that book in this Easter season and we’ll see how they struggled with, grappled with and ultimately determined the course of our Church. There were quarrels, jealousies and hurt feelings. There was also praying, discerning and embracing. Sound familiar?

As their hearts burned they still didn’t fully recognize why we find great value in this walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus. It was, again, in the breaking of the bread. Ultimately what we hear, how we feel, and what we do hearkens back to our celebration of the Eucharist. When their eyes were opened at the breaking of the bread, their eyes were opened because of the breaking of the bread. It rocked their world but also changed how they saw each other.

You know that person who sits in front of but will never learn to park his Ford F-250 in just one parking space? He needs our prayers because he fears his job is in danger and he doesn’t know how he’ll feed his family. Or that priest who preaches for 20 minutes because he just can’t find the point he is trying to make? He loves being a priest but has never felt comfortable speaking in public. He’d be much happier hearing confessions and counseling young couples. Or our 30 something child who doesn’t know what she wants to do for a living but is certain going to church does not fit into her plan.

If the resurrection of Jesus lays the groundwork to our faith and how we orient our lives, Eucharist sustains us for the journey. It feeds us but also allows the scales to fall from our eyes and see the world as God does. I’ve heard it said that faith gives us the glasses to focus and see the world as it is. It doesn’t change the world, only us.

This Easter season let us travel the road to Emmaus and allow our hearts to burn and our eyes to be opened.