Didn’t our hearts burn within us…?

 footprints  One of my favorite Easter stories comes at the end of Luke’s gospel. The road to Emmaus.  As Luke tells it, Peter has just gone home after he looked in the tomb. Although Peter is amazed, he goes back home. Apparently, Peter is not very curious about Jesus’ disappearance from the tomb. So Jesus has to go out to the shore of the Sea of Galilee and wait for Peter to recognize him as he stands over a charcoal fire, on shore, waiting for Peter to recognize him.

The scene then shifts to the disciples walking along a road talking, disheartened, about all that has happened in their very long Passover weekend. Unlike Peter, they are apparently rehearsing what had taken place and trying to figure out what had happened, what the meaning of the empty tomb could be.

Suddenly there is someone else walking with them. They do not at first recognize Jesus. Jesus asks them what they are talking about. Discussing is the word used, and it implies more than just a casual conversation. The disciples are a bit taken aback by Jesus’ question. Could this man be the only person who does not know the things that have taken place in Jerusalem in the past few days? What things Jesus asks.

Cleopas tells him about Jesus of Nazareth and briefly retells the whole gospel story of Jesus’ life and death. Then Jesus chides them for not understanding what had taken place. It was part of the plan from the outset. Then Jesus begins to depart, but they invite him to stay with them. It is only when they are at the meal with him, and he says the blessing, breaks the bread and gives it to them, that they recognize Jesus. Then as suddenly as he had come, he is gone.

Didn’t our hearts burn within us as he explained the scriptures to us? I would have loved to be privy to this conversation, when Jesus enlightens them. Didn’t our hearts burn within us is such a poetic and meaning-laden way of expressing their feelings as their rabboni reveals what he has been teaching them all along. It is one more example of the great love his disciples have for Jesus. For even as this stranger speaks something within them stirs to that understanding. Responds to the voice if not the face of the Man telling them what the scriptures mean…about him and what his life means.

It is telling here that Jesus has come to his followers whereever they are. On the road, he is there. In a harrowing change to their lives, puzzling over life events, he is here. In a boat out to sea, trying to make a living to no avail, he is waiting; he is there. Crying in a garden, he is there. Bereft and lonely, scared and frightened, he is there. Where they are, wherever we are, he is there. Perhaps we are a lot like his disciples. It takes us a while to get it. To get him. To not only understand – understanding takes us only so far- but to see, to recognize the presence of Jesus in our lives, as he walks and waits, comes to our tables, blesses us and our meals, tending the flock or readying to care for a friend believed gone from this world, he is there. Sometimes we just have to look up or to turn around or scan the horizon to find him there.

 

 

 

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Birth of the Word in the Soul Part III

Luke weaves the events surrounding Jesus’ birth with the unbreakable thread of the history of the Hebrew people. Their story shaped their identity and it will shape Jesus’ as well. It is the touchstone around which his life takes its meaning. Their story will mark this Jewish man just as it marked the Jewish nation before him. He will come to know it well, to wrest it from misunderstanding, to reclaim and restore the living reality of its meaning for his people.

As Luke’s gospel unfolds, the infant Jesus is seen laying in a cave-like stable, near the outskirts of a town teeming with people arriving for the census, his parents and simple shepherds his first followers. But the shepherds are not the first to herald Jesus’ arrival and rejoice at his advent. Luke’s good news is carried first on the lips of a few old people and one young Jewish girl. They are the faithful anawim, the remnant of Israel, scrupulously observing the rituals and customs of their faith. Their faith will make possible what the world deemed impossible. The faithful habit of their daily ritual the welcoming dawn inviting into the world the possibility of God.

They are Israel now. They carry the prayers and longings of their people in their lives of fidelity and service to Yahweh. From the first, they recognize in these unlikely births the nearness of God. His Spirit will inaugurate a new age, the new age Luke writes about as if in code, like hieroglyphics on a rock face, the words and events of his infancy narrative taken from Israel’s sacred writings, writings his audience would recognize like a star pointing its way to a manger. Throughout is the confluence of what has gone before with what is to come. Luke binds the strong yet subtle thread of the infancy narrative to the history of the Hebrew people, evocative of the spirit hovering over the waters of Genesis, tracing the trajectory of the infancy narrative with the full sweep of biblical touchstones.

©2014 Cathie Horrell. All Rights Reserved.