The Walk to Emmaus

Dear Friends,

Some Gospel stories appeal to us with immediacy. We identify with their message with little or no difficulty. The prodigal father and the wedding feast at Cana are two such stories. The walk to Emmaus – today’s Gospel – is a third.

Today we find two dejected disciples leaving Jerusalem by foot, late on Easter Day. They have abandoned the other disciples who are huddled together behind locked doors in the upper room. Fear and anxiety plagued all of them. We know the name of one of the disciples heading toward Emmaus – Cleophas. Some people say the other disciple was his wife, Mary. Perhaps it was you or I.

How often in our lives have we known suffering, death, destruction. We’ve known Jesus’ passion and death and perhaps have been overwhelmed by them – failing to realize that the passion of Jesus was indispensable to His journey. Like Cleophas and his companion, perhaps we, too, have felt like losers, the unlucky followers of a failed prophet.

Jesus met them, meets us on the way. No berating. No words of disappointment or rejection. No anger. Jesus is a fellow traveler.

Through their tender interaction with Jesus, something stirred in them, in us. Balm upon our weary souls. Hearts burning with love within us in moments of bleakness or weakness.

And then it was night. Time to stop to be refreshed. Even on the midst of their sadness, Cleophas and his companion were hospitable, inviting Jesus to stay with them. They would be His hosts for supper. How little did they know that soon, the guest would become the host and would offer them living bread as well.

We, too, stop to be refreshed on the way. Each week we come to Eucharist, bearing the scope of our lives. We bring our marriages, friendships, relationships that have gone bad. We bring our hopes for a troubled world, our thanks for heartwarming surprises and ordinary good health. We bring everything to a faithful God who receives us and gives us His very self in return. We know Him in the breaking of the bread.

But we do not stay at Eucharist, even as Cleophas and his companion did not stay at table after Jesus disappeared from their sight. They didn’t linger to relish what they had experienced.

Quickly, the Scripture says, quickly they went back to Jerusalem to share the good news. Joy – the taste of God’s presence – is a gift to be shared with others.

So they went – and their good news was met by the good news of the other disciples. We have seen Him!

As we consider the Emmaus story in our own lives, where do we find ourselves? Are we running away from the pain and frustration of life, from a God who doesn’t seem risen or present to us? Or are our hearts already burning inside us and we don’t know how to interpret the movement within? Have we come to the table and been fed by the Lord? Have we returned to the community of believers, ready to do our part to help the community of faith thrive?

Easter means that great reversals are possible. The disciples on the road to Emmaus knew such reversals.

If we allow it, the disciples on the road in Rochester, Henrietta, Parma, Canandaigua will know the same.

P.S. The painting of Cleophas and Mary dining with Jesus in Emmaus featured at the head of this blog is the work of Rochester artist Dick Kane. It is part of a triptych which can be seen at Our Lady of Lourdes Church in Brighton.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Letting Jesus Easter in Us

Dear Friends,

Jesus is risen and walks among us – in the beautiful, fragrant gardens we experience, in the hovels and places made ugly by misuse. Christ is risen and He is here. So now what? 

Now is the time to let Jesus Easter in us. We are at a place of choice: will we go on to a new springtime of life with God and one another or will we go back through the tomb into our old ways? Easter calls us to places we have not been.

If we do choose to go forward to meet Christ at the seashore or behind locked doors or on the road to our personal Emmaus, as His disciples did, what will be our pace? Will pace be hurried or harried, languid, decisive, measured, determined, effortless, exhausting, unsure, cautious? Will we choose to go on with Christ deliberately or will we just let life happen? Who will walk with us? People we choose or people who are given to us? Will we recognize the Risen One in them, their words, their gestures?

Will our hearts burn within us as He speaks to us on the way, as we do necessary things, cross boundaries, head down unmarked trails, come to a crossroad? In going forward mindfully, we move with others unerringly into the heart of God.

With or without noticing Christ with us, we are on the move. With Him, we are enfolded in love and enlivened toward goodness, mercy, hopefulness.

 This is the drama of grace. 

~Sister Joan Sobala

Our Beloved Risen One

Dear Friends,

Easter is a day of realization, deep emotion, and unprecedented connection with Our Beloved Risen One. Too many words fail us, so here are just a few.

Elation.             Standing at the tomb, I see He is not here. He is risen.

Awe.                  The same Jesus is at first unrecognizable, until He calls us by name.

Surprise.          He gave us all He could, all He had and wants to be with us still.

Tenacity.          I feel the pull of the Resurrection, the contagion of it.

Eagerness.      To see Him in our day and keep Him close.

Reverence.      For His unconditional generosity toward us.

Celebrate well with your communities of faith, families and friends. Most of all, keep a space in the hours of Easter day to spend time with Our Risen Lord.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Faith-Led Resistance

Dear Friends,

On February 26, the First Sunday of Lent, we looked at Jesus’ resistance to the temptations of Satan. Palm Sunday, and indeed, all of Holy Week can be read through this same lens of resistance. We do that today, remembering Jesus as with Him we try to be faithful to the love, forgiveness and reconciliation we experience from our merciful God.

Jesus was a resistor. In the midst of the crowd’s Hosannas, he resisted the temptation to believe that the adulation of the crowd would last.

Jesus resisted running away from suffering – yet in the garden, as he prayed, Jesus resisted suffering and the very comfort of relying on His Father’s love.

Jesus resisted the night with its betrayal, the night of death and the bleakness of the tomb.

Jesus resisted bitterness as His disciples scattered in the night and Peter faltered, denying any knowledge of Jesus.

Jesus resisted the power of Rome and hostile religious authority that threatened to crush Him.

Others involved in the events of these days marshalled resistance as well.

Judas resisted the new, unexpected way that Jesus offered people salvation. He wanted Jesus to be savior his way.

Simon of Cyrene resisted carrying Jesus’ cross.

Peter, at the Passover meal, resisted Jesus kneeling to wash his feet. Later, Peter resisted his conscience and the loyalty that Jesus inspired in him.

The women in their vigil at the cross and at the tomb resisted the threat of the Roman military and the jibes of the crowd.

Resistance either comes from faith or it does not. When it does not come from faith, as we see in this week’s drama, it disappears into cowardice, shrinks from the inside and leaves in its trail failure. Such resistance obscures the likeness of God in the resistor and offers a spark to ignite the world.

But resistance that comes from faith leads to new life, a renewed confidence in God and Easter itself. Jesus’ cry on the cross shattered the last human resistance, death – forever.

On Easter, the resistance of the stone, the inability of Jesus’ followers to recognize Him, and the resistance called fear gave way to lasting, indescribable joy.

Today, absorbed as we are in the power of Holy Week, let us not forget that Easter lies ahead.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Making Our Profession of Faith

Dear Friends,

As Jesus stood bereft before the tomb of his beloved friend, Lazarus, he gave three commands:
            Roll away the stone.
            Lazarus, come forth.
            Unbind him. Let him go free.

In Turkey and Syria in February, the stones entombed unsuspecting people who lived in apartment buildings leveled by earthquakes. Many died, but some, caught beneath the rubble, experienced life anew as rescue workers “rolled away the stone and unbound” the entombed.

That experience was graphic for us to witness but the call of Jesus applies to our contemporaries to come forth from the tombs of their lives. They will need to want to come forth, but it is up to us, neighbor, friend, family member, co-inhibitor of the earth, to roll away the stone and unbind them. And when we ourselves are imprisoned and invited to come forth, only others, attentive to the need, can roll back the stone and unbind us.

But let’s turn to another aspect of the story.

Since Bethany was only about two miles from Jerusalem, word of the raising of Lazarus traveled quickly to the high priests in the holy city. These officials convoked the Sanhedrin and decided that Jesus had gone too far. He must die.

Jesus, weeping over Lazarus, in fact stood at the opening of His own grave. Raising Lazarus had set His own passion in motion. Through His passion and death, Jesus would lead Lazarus, Martha, Mary and all of His disciples – you and me – through the tomb into new life.

We get so absorbed in Jesus and Lazarus in this account, that we fail to see Martha and Mary. They must have consoled one another before Jesus arrived with what could have been a mantra. “Lord,” each said, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Martha and Mary thought of Jesus as a wonderworker. But Jesus called Martha to a deeper faith, to believe that He is God, the giver of life. Jesus would die on the cross, yes, but He would live again forever. “Do you believe this?” Jesus asked Martha.

“Yes, Lord,” Martha replied. “I believe you are the Christ, the Son of God.”

Earlier in the Gospel of John, Peter makes a profession of faith in Jesus. Now, close to His entrance into Jerusalem, Martha makes the same profession of faith.

Will we?

Closing in on Holy Week, with its drama, awe, sadness and bleakness, will we make a profession of faith?

Will we say,
        Jesus, I believe in you. Help my unbelief.
        Jesus, your own death helps me make sense of the
                many deaths I know in life, including my own.
                Help my unbelief.
        Jesus, let me come with you into the garden,
                Into your trial, into the way of your cross.
                Help my unbelief.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Joseph the Craftsman

Dear Friends,

This year, the Feast of Saint Joseph will be celebrated on Monday the 20^th, since the 19^th is a Sunday, and the Sundays of Lent are not overridden by any other feast, showing how much Lent is valued in our tradition. But Joseph’s feast is not skipped over, because he is likewise valued – as the husband of Mary and in the eyes of the townspeople, the acknowledged father of Jesus. 

I’ve been looking for a fresh take on Joseph. The story of his early years with Mary and Jesus is well known, told in Luke 1-2 and Matthew 1-2. The only other oblique references to Joseph are found in Mark 6.3 and Matthew 13.55: “Is he not the carpenter’s son?”

The word “carpenter” is a later translation of the word used to describe the work of Joseph. In Greek it was tekton and in Hebrew charash. The word, in both languages, originally means fabricator of any material, a craftsman or builder. Carpenters are a subset of this larger category. Scholars of antiquity remind us that in the time of Jesus, there were few trees growing in Galilee, but stone was plentiful. It’s more likely that Joseph the craftsman was a stonemason.

About seven miles from Nazareth was the city of Sepphoris (today, Zippori). Jesus was probably not quite a teenager when Herod Antipas began a twenty-year project to build up Sepphoris into what would be called “the jewel of all Galilee.” Halfway between Sepphoris and Nazareth was a stone quarry which fed this project. Since craftsmen from the area did the construction, it’s likely Joseph was one of these stonemasons, and over the years, Jesus, who learned Joseph’s trade, worked there as well.

Later, in the New Testament, we find references to stones that connect us with this theme. “The stone which the builder rejected has become the cornerstone.” (Acts.4.11) “You are like living stones.” (1 Peter 2.5)

Joseph could have had a different trade. He could have been a publican, a vineyard worker, a sandal maker, a fisherman, a priest. But he was not. And because of Joseph, Professor David Naugle, of Dallas Baptist University, offers us this way of looking at Jesus: “Jesus is in the human being repair business. He made us. We are broken. Now He is fixing us. Thankfully, He will faithfully complete the job He started in and among us.”

Thank God for Joseph, who worked with his hands and taught Jesus who is “still shaping His followers, fitting them together into a spiritual house, a temple that is built to bring glory to God.” (Robby Galatty, The Forgotten Jesus.)

~Sister Joan Sobala

Welcoming All into Our Lives

Dear Friends,

The Samaritan city of Sychar in today’s Gospel is called Nablus today – a city that is regarded as a dangerous place of overt friction between Palestinians and Israelis, as we saw a few weeks ago on the news.

The ancient well is still there, where weary passers-by can still refresh themselves at its cool waters.

Jesus sat at that well. His disciples had gone off to buy provisions. As Jesus rested, He realized He was thirsty, but had no means to get water from the well. Along came a nameless Samaritan woman with a complicated past. As she drew water, he said to her, “Give me a drink.”

Startled, the Samaritan woman responded: “You are a Jew. How can you ask me, a Samaritan and a woman, for a drink?”

This part of the Gospel story stunned Jewish listeners, for Jews and Samaritans had nothing to do with one another. How dare a rabbi speak in public to a Samaritan woman? Neither religious law nor social convention would allow it. The interaction was unseemly and just not done.

But Jesus, in speaking with this woman, shattered convention and showed that a new order governed relationships. For her part, the woman must have found his kindness as refreshing as the cool water of the well.

By asking her for water and by accepting the water from her, Jesus made a difference to this woman. He honored her dignity. By acknowledging her past without condemning her, Jesus gave her new motivation. By revealing Himself to her as the Messiah, Jesus shared His own gift with her – salvation true and real. She became a missionary to the villagers among whom she was formerly unacceptable.

Who is today’s Samaritan woman? Who do you and I ignore because of the places, ways and communities into which they were born? Whose dignity do we tarnish because they don’t think and feel as we do? Whom do we refuse a drink from our own precious well because they are a stranger? Whose life do we limit because they don’t laugh or love or pray as we do? Who is diminished by our antagonism or worse – by our indifference?

Jesus is presented in this Gospel as the great bridge-builder, the one who breaks down traditional animosities and prejudices. He is the living proof that God’s love extends far beyond our own.

Paul makes the same point about the breadth of God’s love in today’s second reading, where he reminds us that God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us…while we were still enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son.

Early on in the journey of God with the Israelites in the Old Testament, as we see in the first reading today, the Israelites in the desert went to Moses with their thirst. Moses went to God who told Moses to strike the rock and there it was, thirst-quenching water. Jesus, Moses and Paul all knew that, in things large and small, God would provide and there would be life-giving changes because God provided.

All three readings today are a kind of anticipation of Easter, for it has always been at Easter that the Christian Community welcomed new members into its midst through the Sacrament of Baptism. Jesus’ promise to the Samaritan woman of a spring gushing up to eternal life is fulfilled again and again when women and men in every generation recognize Jesus as savior.

The reality of God’s love which has been poured out into our hearts compels us to be bridge-builders as well. Bridge-building takes imagination, and imagination leads to risk taking.

Jesus showed a lot of imagination and took a big risk in today’s Gospel. The woman was dumbfounded that He would speak with her. The disciples with Jesus were too.

If we really want to think of ourselves as His disciples, if our baptism means anything to us at all, then let’s pray during these remaining weeks until Easter for more imagination in looking at our world and at one another.

Look and look and look

until we really see in one another

what Jesus sees in people.

Pray that we are ready to take the same kind of risk in reaching out to others that Jesus took – and takes in our day.

In the face of all the negativity rampant in our world, with whom have we taken a risk as we rightly ask ourselves:

Who has given me a cup of cold water?

To whom have I given a cup of cold water?

~Sister Joan Sobala