Some Thoughts from Emmaus Amidst the Worry of the World
One of the most impactful stories to me in all of Scripture is the walk to Emmaus. In Chapter 24 of the Gospel According to Luke, two disciples are walking to a village outside of Jerusalem. A stranger accompanies their journey. At the end of their travels, the friends sit down to break bread and at that moment, they realize that it was their friend, Jesus, who was with them on the journey. I love the response of the disciples when they realize this: “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?”[1] Looking back they realize just how special that moment was.
Today, we ventured to the Benedictine Abbey of Abu Gosh. The Abbey rests in a small town no more than 15km or so from Jerusalem and the site of where the Crusaders believed the town of Emmaus to be and where this experience recorded in Luke occurred. We walked into the nave of the chapel as one of the priests began officiating Mass. I couldn’t quite capture the words of the song the congregation was singing, but those gathered for worship were familiar with the tune and the sound reverberated and was echoing beautifully off the old stone walls. The lasting remnant of incense lingered enough to awaken the senses to the sacredness of this very special occasion.
Our whole group slowly entered. Some took seats. Chills washed over my body in a way that I had not experienced in Jerusalem. The singing was intoxicating as I was moved to tears. As I watched the priest lead the congregation in worship, this deep sense of hunger filled me. I felt this profound sense of awe and wonder and at the same time a deep sense of sadness in the place where the disciples’ hearts were burning after consuming bread with their friend. I am not aware of ever desiring Eucharist so profoundly in my life. I am hungry, but this meal would not be for me.
In all honesty, I have a rather Catholic understanding of the Eucharist. I am not bothered by the metaphysical teachings of the Church. While I more often teach with the explanation that “God is fully present,” I am ok with the teachings that parse Socrates and Plato’s exploration of metaphysics that inform the Catholic Church’s teaching on the Eucharist. I have never had such a deep desire for the Eucharist as I felt this morning, and yet know that this is not the time and place for an Episcopalian from halfway around the world to push the boundaries of the Catholic Church’s teaching on who should receive.
I also am wondering if my hunger is deeper than just this morning’s experience in Emmaus. As I travel with 27 others on our pilgrimage from Saint Stephen’s, I would be remiss to say that there isn’t a little anxiety as our trip nears an end. The world seems to be losing its cool over the Coronavirus, and the impact on travel is worrisome. It is likely we will be here a day or so longer due to canceled flights. Loved ones back home are anxious for our group’s arrival back to Birmingham, and the news of quarantines, the market, and travel restrictions have everyone a little on edge.
And yet in the midst of our worries, when we have surrendered the need to know what will happen, and our control of the situation, and have been fully present to each other, something remarkable has happened; our hunger has been filled. I have even felt from time to time that my heart has been on fire. We have laughed, a few have even danced, we have shared and built friendships, we have unpacked the Scriptures, and we have come to know that God was fully present in our midst.
I am grateful to be in a community that will never deny anyone who is hungry for the real presence of God that we have come to know in the Eucharist. It doesn’t matter if you are single, divorced, widowed, or married. It doesn’t matter if you are young or old, straight or gay, white or black, poor or rich. Nor does it matter if you are Episcopal, Catholic, Baptist, or Christian curious. It doesn’t even matter if you are a Republican or Democrat or still haven’t figured it out, because everyone is invited to fully receive. All you have to be is hungry for God. And when we share in this gift, our eyes are opened to know that Jesus is in our mist. It is a beautiful gift that inspires so many every week.
And yet I worry that our pervasive need to be in control of every situation can limit our ability to be fully present to each other in a way that allows us to realize the sacred gift of God that is in our midst. It is too easy to allow fear and anxiety get in the way. Maybe the most staggering impact of the Coronavirus is the ability of a global epidemic to shift us to think about ourselves first, to reduce us to fear and worry, and cause a sort of spiritual isolation that breaks apart community.
As we get ready to return, albeit a day later than we had originally planned, my hope is that we can all learn to not be afraid, to believe that God is always present when we are open and available to each other, and to not be consumed by anxiety. While there are wise practices we should all observe to care for those who are healthy and for those who are not well, we should have faith, that in all manner of things, God is always in our midst. And no matter how hungry we feel for community, for God, for connection, and for meaning, there is a table that is beckoning us to eat.
John+
[1] Luke 24:32 NRSV