Recognizing the Lord: 3rd Sunday Easter

One of the most exciting, most fascinating, and most mysterious parts of the Bible for me is the time between the Resurrection and the Ascension. And it really is kind of mysterious. I mean, the stuff that happens before Christ’s death and Resurrection you can pretty well picture; you’ve never seen anyone walk on water but you can imagine it easily enough. And the time after the Ascension, well, that’s where we live. We know what that’s like. But that time in between, when Jesus is appearing to the disciples, those stories read very mysteriously. Even the Gospel writers seem to be sort of at a loss to put it into words for us. “He appeared in their midst, though the door was locked.” You know he went from being absent to being present, but there’s nothing there you can picture, really.


Much of the strange atmosphere of these accounts comes from a running theme of people recognizing or not recognizing Jesus. People who’d been among his closest friends sometimes didn’t recognize him at first. How does that work? Had his appearance changed so much? Was his new kind of Presence so totally different that it afforded no sense of context or familiarity? But then, the moment of recognition comes, and with it the joyful sense of reunion.

The first disciple to see Him was Mary Magdalene, and she thought he was the gardener. Thomas looked right at him but needed a physical demonstration. These disciples on the road to Emmaus walked with him for miles before suddenly recognizing him at table, only to have him vanish in that moment.

Books could be written about each of these recognitions. For Mary Magdalene, it comes when the Lord speaks her name, “Mary.”  What’s in a name? What does it mean to hear God speak yours? That’s another sermon.

For Thomas, it’s in His scars. The Risen Lord does not appear without memory or sign of his suffering and death. They are part of His glory. He wouldn’t be Him without them. We tend to want God to take our wounds away. It seems God has something different in mind. That’s another sermon too.

But today’s story, from the 24th chapter of Luke, centers around two unnamed disciples. We can presume they didn’t know Jesus nearly as well as did Mary Magdalene or the Apostle Thomas. Maybe we can relate to them a little more in that way; they’re among the “ordinary” disciples. The day is Easter Sunday, making them among the first witnesses of the Resurrection. But it takes them awhile. They’re walking along, the two of them, and a third man appears and asks what they’re talking about. They’re talking about Jesus of Nazareth, who was just killed. What else would they be talking about? They had thought he was the Messiah. Looks like it didn’t pan out. But on the other hand, they’ve already heard rumors that he’d been seen alive. It seems they weren’t quite ready to believe that, because their faces were downcast as they spoke.

They walked for miles with this stranger, and something amazing happened. He started walking them through the Scriptures, which to them meant what we call the Old Testament, explaining all that refers to the Messiah, and how He must suffer, and so enter into His glory. From Moses through all the Prophets, he opened the Scriptures that they’d heard all their lives but not fully understood. They later said that their hearts were burning within them as they walked and listened.

Can you imagine going to a Bible Study led by the author Himself?

It’s no wonder they were eager to spend more time with this stranger. “Stay with us!” And they sit down at table together. Then follows a familiar sequence of verbs, the same used to describe the multiplication of loaves to feed five thousand, the same used by Paul in 1 Corinthians to describe the Last Supper, the same quoted today and in every Mass: He took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. In that instant, their eyes were opened. They knew Him in the breaking of the bread.

What we’ve just heard is the story of the first Easter Mass. It began with readings from Scripture, and explanatory preaching, and reached climax in the blessing and breaking of bread. And when they recognized Him in the breaking of bread, he vanished, as if to illustrate that His Presence had changed form. The Presence of walking side by side had given way to the Presence of the Eucharist. And, like every Mass, it ends with conversion and mission. Remember that they’d traveled from Jerusalem to reach this destination… but now they immediately abandon their lodgings, turn around, and hasten to bear witness to others about the Risen Lord.

This is a powerful story. Now sit up and brace yourselves, because our goal is not to be spared any of its power!

You heard the Word of God moments ago. Did your heart burn within you? The Word of God…when was the last time you gave any thought to that phrase? The divine creator of all that is just spoke to you. Did your heart burn within you? Can you remember one thing about the first reading? The epistle? The epistle this morning contained an urgent call to radical conversion, to change your life. Did it hit home at all? We prayed Psalm 15. Did you pray the Psalm, or did you just repeat the refrain when it was your turn? Could you tell me more about a ballgame or a reality show or a movie, that you saw weeks ago, than you could about the first chapter of the First Letter of Peter, which was read minutes ago?

You’d think that hearing the very Word of God spoken to you should be the mind-blowing high point of any day… but it isn’t.  The climax is yet to come; things get even crazier from here. He took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. After this homily, the Creed and intercessions, the next part of the Mass is the offertory, when bread is given and taken up to the altar. Then comes the Canon, the Eucharistic Prayer in which the Holy Spirit is invoked in blessing. Then what we call the Fractioning, while you sing the Lamb of God, as the consecrated Host is broken. And finally Communion, in which it is given. Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to His disciples, and their eyes were opened. Offertory, Canon, Fraction, Communion. Are your eyes open? We all show up and we all go through the same motions, Sunday after Sunday. But do you know Him in the breaking of the bread?

Nine of our newest St. Kateri parishioners received Him in the Eucharist for the first time two weeks ago: Amanda, John, Denzil, Amanda, Sophia, Bob, Christine, Hollie, and David. They’d been walking with Him already, but recognized Him in a new way as well. This morning, five of our young St. Kateri parishioners will receive Him for the first time. Aundreya, Jacie, Wyatt, Trey, and Nicholas, you’ve learned so much this year! And you’ve learned that when you receive Communion, it is the Real Presence of Jesus, just as He says in the Bible. You understand that today, as you receive your First Communion. I hope you understand it even better a year from now, and ten years from now, and fifty years from now. Jesus wants to be your friend, and true friends get closer and closer through their whole lives. Today, receiving Communion is new and exciting. After a hundred times or a thousand times, it won’t be new anymore and it might not seem as exciting after you’ve done it so many times. But in reality, it’s just as amazing every time! Even if we forget that sometimes, we have to try to remember. I hope you always remember. I hope you never stop recognizing Him when you come to Communion.

For all of us, He’s here, whether you recognize Him or not. The reality of the Eucharist does not depend on our eyes being open. But all the benefit, all the grace, all the life-changing power, depends on that recognition. It isn’t automatic. Oh, how we have proven that it isn’t automatic! How many people have spent their whole childhood, or years of adulthood, attending Mass, hearing the Word, receiving the Eucharist, and today they’re nowhere to be found? Whatever reason they drifted away, whatever else might have happened, it seems they didn’t recognize Him here. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t that. Maybe they enjoyed the music and singing. Maybe they appreciated the fellowship. Maybe they liked the preaching of one priest or another. Maybe it slaked some thirst for spirituality and transcendence. But an astounding number of baptized Catholics are simply gone. What happened to these disciples on the road to Emmaus never happened for them, at least not yet. That’s not a judgment, just a fact. We can recognize that fact without any presumption, pride or judgment, which would be madness. We may not see how the Spirit is moving in others, or on what paths God is leading them.

The more important question is has it happened to you? Is it happening to you today? Does the Word of God sear its way into your heart, or just bounce off the surface? Are your eyes open to the Sacrament, or are they focused everywhere else but on Him? His presence here is not in question. His power is not in question. The only question is, do you recognize Him?


The answer to that question isn’t simple. None of us recognize Him infallibly or faultlessly. We see now, even if our eyes are open, ‘as in a glass, darkly.’ We are talking about a relationship here, after all, and relationships are ongoing and developing projects. That’s why we do this every week. It’s not about whether you’ve arrived — you haven’t. It’s about whether you’re on the road. It’s about whether you’re walking with Christ as you walk along, and whether you’re open to that incredible moment of recognition when He sets a table before you and breaks bread, and whether that experience changes your course and sends you on a mission, as it did for the disciples that day. Coming to Mass should change your life. Does your heart burn within you when you hear His Words? Do you recognize Him in the breaking of the bread?

Comments