Readings: |
Acts 2:14,22-28 |
Date: |
April 22-23, 2023, Third Sunday
of Easter
|
Do any of you parents ever get asked, "Why do I have to go to Mass?" And that's from your spouse! When a lot of us were young, there was a simple answer to that question, "Why do we have to go to Mass?": because not going was a mortal sin, which means we would go to hell. As I became an adult, that simple understanding no longer made sense to me. I don't think that simple answer makes any sense to even older people today because we don't have the cultural background that lets us make sense out of it. (I'm not sure that we ever had it either, to be truthful!)
Listen to this Emmaus story. A couple of believers are beaten down by the week they've just been through. They are trudging along, disappointed, disillusioned, distressed. They come into the presence of Jesus and things start to change. Through the wisdom and revelation of Scripture they start to see a different slant on the terrible things they have been through. Instead of seeing random acts of violence, and feeling abandoned and without hope, they start to see how life is always connected, and under the watchful eye of God as he works his plan for salvation. Then as they gather around the table, through simple hospitality and breaking bread, they are rewarded with the recognition of the risen Christ, a brother who has conquered death and who holds out the promise of the same to them. The disappointment, disillusionment, and distress turn to gladness, and hope, and joy. Unable to contain themselves they go back the way they came. Only now they travel with much lighter baggage and a burning desire to share the good news with their friends. Nothing has changed in the facts and events of the past week but what has changed is their understanding and attitude.
It is so easy for us to let the events of the week drag us, beat us, down. If we don't come together to let Scripture help us put them in perspective, and to see the risen Christ in the breaking of the bread, we quickly become disappointed, disillusioned, and distressed. And that is hell, right here and now. Hell is the state of separation from the love of God. It may not happen by missing one Mass, but the slippery slope theory is a real one. If we start be missing one, pretty soon it gets easier and easier, and before we know it, we end up like Cleopas and his friend, trudging down the road in our own private hell. So in revealing something about who we are, as well as something about who God is, Luke's story gives a much better answer to the question of why we go to Mass.
I would suggest that the most revealing thing about who God is, is the Incarnation. But sometimes that is such an overwhelming theological concept that it doesn't make any impact on us at all. But thanks to Luke, we have this wonderful Emmaus story to bring it down to a size we can relate to. Our God is a God who wants to be with us, perhaps never so intensely as when we are troubled. This Emmaus story makes it so clear that God just wants to be close enough and comfortable enough to us that he can show us what life is really about. Jesus didn't change any of the events that had so troubled the disciples. He just walked with them, talked with them, and ate with them, and in doing so, allowed them to see a completely different reality in those same events. Many of us have an image of God who through his power and might changes the events and conditions of the world to be more what his favored people think they should be. The Incarnation as explained by the Emmaus story reveals that God is a God who wants to get close enough to us so that he can change us, and then we will change the world.
We are all on an Emmaus journey. We are all bowed down under the events that we experience in our day to day living. Where do we encounter the risen Christ? Who will walk with us, talk with us, break bread with us. Who will give us a different perspective on the events we experience? That is what the Church is all about, my dear people, especially the Church at the parish level. We are the body of Christ. By our baptism, we are called to be the incarnation of God's love for his people.
One of the things that I have come to love about St.Isidore parish in my almost 50 years here, is that it is a very generous parish, always responding generously whenever an important cause is presented to them. I get the feeling that this is true of St. Elizabeth of Hungary. But not just with their wallets or pocketbooks. When my wife Betsy and I and at that time 2 children moved here away from family, this community took us in and became new family. They are welcoming to strangers, crying babies and restless toddlers but most especially to families who move to this area away from their family and friends. What the Incarnation and today's Gospel story call us to reflect on is that giving money, even generously, is not the most important thing it takes to be a Christian. God didn't just send a check to us; he came in person. He took the time to become one of us, one with us, understanding that what was needed was to walk with, talk with, eat with us, face to face. That is what our faith calls us to. Being a Christian is not a matter of belief, up in the head. It is a matter of being the incarnation of God's love to another, in person. It is making Christ's healing presence real to another. And while it starts with individuals, it is really the Christian community's call. That's why we need to keep coming together. One cannot be a Christian by themselves.
My prayer today is that we let the Scriptures shed new light on our lives, and as we approach the Eucharistic table, that we recognize the risen Christ among us, and that this unfolding of the Scriptures and breaking of the bread fill our hearts with a burning zeal that sends us forth like Cleopas and his companion eager to share what we have understood and experienced. That is why we have to go to Mass!