Faith is Expectation (Lk 24:13-35)

The road to Emmaus is a story about the road of life that could be told about any one of us.  Like the two disciples on their journey, we often encounter Jesus in unexpected ways and unexpected places on our own journey.  He remains hidden from our eyes, but opens our hearts and enlightens our minds to show us the way through our struggles.  This is essentially what happens to the main characters in the post resurrection stories, especially the disciples on their way to Emmaus.

These two disciples begin their journey in confusion and sadness—sad because Jesus is their leader and friend who recently suffered a cruel death, and confused because Jesus was not who they had wanted him to be.  They thought Jesus would be a great warrior who would restore Israel’s rightful place of honor among nations.  Instead, Jesus was betrayed by the leaders of his own religion, while the enemy of Israel remains firmly in place.  And, here they are, explaining all this to a stranger who joined them uninvited and is apparently unaware of all these events.  

So, they pour out their hearts telling the stranger all about Jesus.  What they did not expect was to have been taught so much by the stranger.  Much less did they expect the stranger to be Jesus himself.  Perhaps it is no coincidence that Jesus vanishes from their sight at the very moment they discover him in the breaking of bread with others.  Perhaps this is how Jesus shows us that now he dwells with us, and we dwell with him and with each other, in new and unexpected ways.

The Emmaus story calls to mind the many suppers Jesus had with tax collectors and those on the fringe during his life.  Intentionally socializing with those on the margin is how he sought to break down the barriers that separate and divide us.  Even at the last supper, Jesus broke bread with his betrayer, and washed the feet of his disciples to show them how to serve others in humility.  These events show us that Jesus remains with us and continues to teach us and show us the way.  Thus, Jesus has not vanished at all.  The challenge for us today is to look for him in the right places—where he can be found.

Looking for Jesus in the right places was the challenge for the main characters in the post resurrection stories.  They were looking in all the wrong places, expecting to see Jesus as a certain kind of person in a certain place.  For that reason, they were unable to see the real Jesus right before their eyes.  A friend of mine once illustrated this point to me by explaining his view of being caught in slow traffic.  

According to his explanation, our impatience with slow drivers in front of us inspires us to pray for a faster pace to get where we want to be.  At such times, we don’t think of the slow drivers as the messengers of Jesus, slowing us down to save us from a fatal accident ahead of us.  My friend makes an interesting point, although I do not know what he would say to someone who had to endure a more serious struggle.  

I am certain, however, that Jesus provides all the support and guidance we need no matter what we are going through, even if we don’t ask for it, or do not recognize Jesus as the source.  In times of trouble, we can be like the two disciples traveling to Emmaus.  Our anxiety and lack of trust keep us from realizing Jesus is right there with us.  Jesus always travels with us even though we are not aware of his presence.  This guarantee motivates Paul to claim in his letter to the Hebrews that the Lord will never forsake us or abandon us.  “Thus, we may say with confidence, the Lord is my helper…What can anyone do to me” (Heb 13:5-6; Ps 118:6).

We forget that Jesus often comes to us disguised as the marginalized, the poor, the hungry, the least of his children.  All we see, however, is the irritating associate who longs for and needs our patience; the caring friend who gives the unsolicited but loving advice; the expert healer who cares for us but does not understand our pain.  We see the vulnerable, the addict, the homeless, the stranger—but we do not see Jesus.  We are like the Emmaus travelers.  We see the stranger who needs to be taught, but we do not expect the stranger to teach us.  

In the same way, we come to the table of the Lord expecting to see only bread and wine, but we do not see the hidden Jesus longing for our arrival.  We do not see Jesus in others and in ourselves because we do not expect to see Jesus.  We think Jesus is somewhere else, hidden from our view.  The prophet Isaiah understands our insecurity in this regard, and for that reason says to us, “Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near” (Is 55:6).

As the powerful post resurrection stories reveal, Jesus is not put off by our doubt, our confusion, or our fear.  Jesus is the seeker who comes looking for us and finds us where we are on the road of life.  He is not discouraged or deterred by our expectations for him.  He came to show us the Father and the way to his home, our home.  Jesus does this in unexpected places, in unexpected ways, with unexpected people to unite himself to each of us and with each other in the bond of love.

This is the whole point of breaking of bread with others.  This communal meal is an act of peace that tears down the barriers between us and brings us together.  When we break bread with others, Jesus abides in each of us.  In union with Jesus, we become the new body of Christ.  Then, in the words of St. Paul to the Galatians, we can say it is no longer we who live, but Christ who lives in each of us (Gal 2:20).

Trust is Key (Jn 6:1-15)

Can you imagine what life must have been like when there were no modern food stores around?  If you wanted some vegetables for dinner, you didn’t hop in the car and run down to the grocery store.  You either went to the cellar and gathered from the stored harvest, or you did without.  Those were the conditions when Jesus poses his question to Phillip about where to buy enough food to feed the huge crowd following along.  

Along with the obvious lack of resources for that purpose, the amount of money it would take to buy the food even if it were available completely baffles Phillip.  The disciples manage to come up with the five loaves and two fish, and the miraculous results fill twelve wicker baskets.   With this miracle, Jesus aims to show that he is enough for all our needs, both physical and spiritual.  All we have to do is entrust all that we have to his care.  

The significance of this miracle is undeniable for that reason and others, especially since this story is the only miracle recorded in all four gospels.  We have John’s version, which he uses as one of seven signs that reveal who Jesus is and what he is about (The Gospel of John, Barclay, p. 9).  The multiplication story serves as a prelude to the bread of life teaching that occurs when Jesus says to the people, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst” (Jn 6:35).  The Eucharist is the bread of life, a mere morsel that feeds and nourishes the many, just as the multiplied bread had fed and nourished the many on the grassy knoll.  

The supporting characters in the multiplication story provide additional insight into who Jesus is and what he is about.  Phillip is the first.  When Jesus asks him where to buy food, Phillip’s immediate response is to throw up his hands in frustration and desperation.  He is overwhelmed.  He sees no available option.  Not only is no food available, the money needed to buy for so many is absurd.  Phillip suffers from the common ailment of paralysis by analysis, so he does nothing.  He doesn’t even think to ask Jesus for his opinion on the matter.   

How many times do we respond like Phillip when faced with what appears to be insurmountable odds?  Our anxiety and worry lead us to forget the advice of Peter who urged the early Christians to “Cast all your cares on God, because he cares for you” (1Pt5:7; Ps55:23).  Jesus likewise cautions against worry and urges us to have courage.  Seek first the kingdom of God, he says, and God will provide everything else we need (Mt 6:33-34).  We find it very difficult to accept that level of trust at face value.  We forget that God responds generously to those who put their trust in him (Ps 118:8; Mal 3:10). 

Andrew is another character in the story with a lesson for us today.  He is a little more positive than Phillip.  Andrew’s first response is to point out the boy with the bread and the fish.  Andrew’s positive approach quickly fades into skepticism, however.  He doubts the usefulness of such meager supplies for such a crowd.  Andrew has little confidence in his ability to do anything, so he simply relies on someone else to solve the problem.  

How often we act like Andrew.  We are hopeful at first that things will work out well, but our confidence soon turns to doubt.  We act like the seed that fell on rocky soil.  Our anxiety and fear hold us back, and we do not let our trust in Jesus take root.  We ignore the idea that Jesus pleads for our trust when he says, “Come to me all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28).

Then, there is the boy.  We don’t even know his name, but we know that he brings all that he has with complete humility and trust that Jesus will accept his meager supplies and take care of the rest.  He surrenders himself to Jesus and lets Jesus take care of everything, and he does so without question.  His guideposts are total abandonment and trust in Jesus.  Wittingly or not, this young man took seriously the advice found in Proverbs: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; on your own intelligence do not rely.  In all your ways be mindful of him, and he will make straight your paths” (Prov 3:5-6).

The lesson that all these characters offer is clear.  When Jesus said, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst” (Jn6:35), he claims that he alone can nourish our spirits.  He alone can satisfy our hungry hearts.  Jesus is enough for all.  The challenge for us is that we doubt this guarantee.  As a result, we don’t know how to find genuine nourishment.  We look it in the wrong places.  We spend our spiritual coin for what is not bread, our wages for what fails to satisfy (Is 55:2).  

There are times we experience spiritual poverty and feel as though we have nothing to eat or drink.  Yet, the Lord Jesus calls us out of our poverty.  He invites us to come to his banquet with trust.  He invites us to bring all that we have—our hunger, our thirst, our troubled hearts—bring it all to him, and then do whatever he says (Jn 2:5).  He is enough.  

The Son cries out, but the Father does not answer (Mt 27:46)

Nailed to the cross for our salvation, Jesus cries out to the Father, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  With these words, Jesus seems to express despair in the face of his suffering.  Yet, this is not a cry of despair, but a painful cry of desolation and anguish that we hear from Jesus.  No wonder.  His cross is the culmination of a hellish tragedy, laden with deceit, infidelity, betrayal, ridicule, rejection, and condemnation.  Religious and political leaders have falsely accused Jesus.  His dearest and closest friends have fled in fear.  The crowds have mocked him and spit on him.  He has suffered the indescribable cruelty of crucifixion.  He is physically and morally exhausted.  Every ounce of energy gone.  Even the heavens have darkened in solidarity.  Is there any wonder that Jesus cries out in agony, “My god, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

With these words, Jesus protests his sense of abandonment, humiliation, and neglect.  His entire mission has been to do the will of his heavenly Father.  This was his only food by which he carried out his mission, emptying himself for others, proclaiming God’s kingdom, and doing good works.  And, Jesus had some measure of success—gathering a band of faithful followers and inspiring crowds to embrace his message of love and hope.  And now this—the injustice of the crucifixion—and the stone, cold silence of God.  The Son cries out, but the Father does not answer.

The Evangelist “does not hesitate to show Jesus in the utter agony of feeling forsaken as he faces a terrible death” (R. Brown, 44).  At his lowest moment, Jesus cries out in unity with the whole human condition.  We can understand the anguished prayer of Jesus in the Garden where he prayed for this cup to pass from him.  No wonder that, in the depths of his suffering on the cross, Jesus now confronts God with his pleading—but God does not answer.  God is silent.  How many times have we too cried out to God—and God does not answer.

The contrast between Jesus on the cross and Jesus in the desert at the beginning of his public ministry is stark indeed.  Jesus in the desert declares his unwavering faith in God by resisting all the lies and appeals to fear that Satan uses to lure him into abandoning the one true God.  Because Jesus keeps a steady hand and remains faithful in the face of adversity, the angels immediately come to his aid.  Jesus on the cross is no different.  There, Jesus once again has proven his faith in God to the last, and yet, no one comes to his aid, not even God it seems.  This contrast, this undeserved abandonment, this is the injustice that Jesus rails against with his cry of protest.  And yet, God is silent.

Perhaps the explanation lies in plain sight at the foot of the cross.  No one is there except his holy Mother and his beloved disciple, and the idle passersby who mock Jesus with sneering contempt.  All those who should have been there are nowhere to be found—his disciples, his supporters, his friends.  Even the women who had followed Jesus and ministered to him watched from a distance.  All those whom Jesus held near and dear had left him alone in his greatest need.  Because he was abandoned by all, Jesus felt abandoned even by God.  Are we surprised that this is what drives his painful question—why have you forsaken me?  Why have you left me alone?  Despite his sorrowful pleading, Jesus does not hear the Voice of Love.  God is silent.

Sad to say that a similar fate awaits many in today’s society.  When those who should care for us abandon us, we often feel abandoned by God.  When we abandon those for whom we should care, they feel abandoned by God.  This is especially true for those who cannot fend for themselves—the young, the old, the homeless, those subjected to violence and war, the weak, those without sufficient resources.  Those who are isolated from a web of love and support often feel a deep sense of powerlessness.  When their pleas for help go unanswered, they often feel abandoned.  The longer their pleas go without our response, eventually, they feel abandoned even by God.  If they do not hear us, they will not hear God.

This is a sad and terrible fate that the prophet Isaiah warns against (58:7).  Isaiah warns us not to turn our backs on our own, especially the vulnerable and those who suffer.  We are called to see the face of Christ in the sufferer, even in those whom we think deserve to suffer.  Our commitment to Christ compels us to respond to suffering with love.  There is no place for self righteousness in regard to the suffering of our neighbor.  We, the Samaritan of today, stop by the side of the road, not out of curiosity, but out of solidarity, availability, sensitivity, and a willingness to be effective in our help (Salvifici doloris, 28-29, John Paul II).

Although our immediate response to suffering is invariably one of protest, our love for Christ and for others compels us to discover anew the meaning of suffering, not on a human level, but on God’s level.  On God’s level, love becomes the most effective response and antidote to suffering of any kind, especially suffering from hatred, violence, cruelty, contempt, and insensitivity.  Through his own life and mission of love, Christ taught us to care for those who suffer and to seek the good with our own suffering.

Christ is our model and our protector.  He has been in the depths of our suffering.  The crucified Christ understands how we feel when faced with insurmountable odds.  He knows what it means to feel all alone and without help from anyone.  Jesus knows the feeling of exhaustion, the fear of never being able to succeed, the horrible doubt of not having done enough or the right thing.  He knows the pain and isolation like those who are divorced, addicted to drugs or alcohol, battered or raped, out of work and without resources.  Jesus knows what it means to feel alone and unloved.  He knows the feeling of depression and chronic disability.  Without any doubt, Jesus understands the silence of God.

With his own life, crucifixion, and death, Jesus shows us that we are not alone in these experiences.  Because of our mutual need for care and understanding, there is solidarity among those who suffer.  Because of Christ’s constant concern and love for each of us, there is also solidarity with him, who suffers with us each time we suffer.  For this reason, all suffering is holy and deserves reverence. The poet Elizabeth Lavers gives reverence and voice to this solidarity in her poem, “Why hast Thou forsaken me?” Her loving verse of four stanzas with four lines each is a beautiful, heartfelt description of the suffering Christ on the cross, and a fitting reflection on the way of the cross: 

Rejected and set apart

To hang between earth and sky,

Straight from his anguished heart

Comes this dreadful cry.

His spirit wearies now.

Forsaken and alone.

Bearing, I can’t tell how,

Our sins, not his own.

No voice to wish him well.

No milestone or mark

In all the bleak wastes of Hell,

All the freezing dark.

Now that he nears death’s gate

I must not turn away.

But I weep for him, desolate.

And try to pray.