You Are The Mystery

You Are The Mystery

After the destruction of the First Jerusalem Temple, the people of Israel, cut off from the center of all rituals and rhythms of life, growth, harvest, new birth and death, were described as a valley of dry bones. The Lord asked the prophet Ezekiel, “Can these bones live?” Zeke answered, “Lord, you know.” And together the breath and spirit of the Lord raised those bones to new life, new promise and new hope. It was a moment of Resurrection. Resurrection is the Promise of Life in the midst of crisis and death and destruction.

Jump ahead 500 years as Storyteller Luke describes two of the followers of Jesus leaving Jerusalem for their home in Emmaus after experiencing two body-blows: first, the brutal torture and crucifixion of the one they believed would ransom and redeem Israel from the scourge of Caesar’s Empire, and then the news that tomb where he had been laid was now empty. [Luke chapter 24] Like the others, these two had no doubt dismissed the report from the women that he had been raised and was alive as mere “women’s trinkets.” Never mind that the Lord himself had chosen these women as the Best Agents of Promise and Resurrection. Further, as Storyteller Luke narrates this story, the Second Temple now lies in ruins, and the bones are once again dry, desiccated and lifeless in both the Jewish and Christian communities who centered their lives in that place.

As the two sadly walk back out to the suburbs, a stranger joins them on the way asking, “What’s up!” The one named Cleopas, not recognizing that this is no stranger, responds, “Seriously! Are you the only one who has not heard what things have happened in Jerusalem these past few days?” Surely this is meant to make us laugh – for the stranger is Jesus himself. He knows better than anyone what has happened. Still, he goes along with it saying, “What things?” Perhaps thinking they might recognize him now. Yet, despite a message of Resurrection from the women,  these two are so wrapped up in their own grief, fear and despair they still don’t get it and proceed to tell him what he has been through, and about the women. It seems even the resurrected Jesus can become frustrated as he declares, “O, how foolish and slow of heart you are! Do I have to go over this all over again?” And he does.

When they get to their home he keeps walking, no doubt wondering what he can do or say that can put them on the right track. They beg him to stay for dinner. If there is one thing Storyteller Luke repeats over and over it is when there is food involved Jesus is on it. Richard Swanson once asked his students to imagine what Jesus looked like. A rather large defensive lineman sitting in the back who had not said a word all semester raised his hand and said, “He must have been large – I imagine him to be around 260 to 280 pounds!” Astounded at this, Swanson asks how he had come to this conclusion. “He was a big guy,” he repeated, “In the gospel of Luke he is always eating: Feeding the 5000, The Last Supper, eating with sinners, eating with Pharisees. It’s like the Emmaus thing. They only recognize him when he breaks the bread for the meal. It’s like he didn’t look like himself unless he had a chicken leg in his hand!” [Richard Swanson, Provoking the Gospel of Luke, p 141]

Indeed, it is the third time Storyteller Luke portrays Jesus taking bread, blessing it, breaking it and giving it to others. It’s as if Luke want us to understand that this is the shape of Christian Life and Mission. They are the very actions of Eucharistic (which means Thanksgiving) life: taking, blessing, breaking and giving bread. Of course, another take-away from this story is that Jesus is always with us if only we will get out of our own heads, our own lives and our own crises and see that.

He is here now. He is with you now as you stay at home in the midst of yet another crisis of life and death. Gaze upon this bread which for the time being we cannot share. We can, like the two companions on the road to Emmaus, mourn what we think we have lost. And we can feel like we are in Exile from our spiritual home that has been here since 1805.

Or, we can see and know and experience that the living God is with us even now in the midst of this terrible awful public health crisis and the extreme measures we need to take to save lives. Staying at home and Compassionate Distancing Saves Lives. And isn’t that what this bread represents even if we can only look at it? Saving Lives? Isn’t this Salvation?

And there are those who will remind us that this loaf of bread contains everything; that it represents all of life. For if we look at the bread we can see there is a cloud floating in it. Without the cloud there would be no water to moisten the earth and grow the seed. And there is sunshine in it, for without the sunshine it would not grow. And if we open our eyes and look deeper we will see not only the cloud and the sunshine and the water and earth and the seed, but everything is here: the bread that feeds the farmer who harvests the wheat; the truck driver who takes it to the mill; the millstones that grind the wheat into flour; the baker who bakes it; the driver who takes it to Safeway; the woman who puts it on the shelf; the teenager who checks it out at the register. It is all in the bread. Everything, all of life, everyone is in this loaf of bread. Christ through whom all creation is made is in the bread. He is here. Even when the bread is not.

And St Augustine tells us that we are in the mystery of the bread we place on the altar. “…you are the mystery that is placed upon the Lord’s table. You receive the mystery that is yourself.

To that which you are, you will respond, ‘Amen.’ [St Augustine, Pentecost Homily]

This is what we are: Resurrection and the Promise of New Life, All Life, in the midst of what the world calls crisis and death. This is what happened in Emmaus. Eyes were opened to the presence of the Lord who was there all along; who is with us always to the end of the age. Something needs to break us open like the bread for us to see it is all here. Within us and without us. This is Resurrection Life. This is the mystery of dry bones coming to life again. This is a reminder to listen to the Agents who come to announce Resurrection and Promise.

We finally notice that the two companions on the road race back to become agents of resurrection and promise themselves. And only one is given a name. Because, my sisters and brothers, the one without the name is you. You will be broken open and you will see that the Lord is with you. And you will go and tell others with your companion, Cleopas – which means “glory of the father.” You who are the mystery that is placed on the Lord’s table will join Glory of the Father to tell others your own stories of Resurrection and Promise. Amen.

…you are the mystery that

is placed upon the Lord’s table.

You receive the mystery that is

yourself.

To that which you are,

you will respond,

‘Amen.’

St Augustine, Pentecost Homily