(Third Sunday of Easter (A): This homily was given on April 23, 2023 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani. Read Acts 2:14-33; Psalm 16:1-11; 1 Peter 1:17-21; Luke 24:13-35.)
[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Third Sunday of Easter 2023]
There’s an ancient legend which says that on Easter
Sunday morning, the devil—the master of disguise—tried to get into heaven by
pretending to be the risen Christ. He took
along some of his demons and disguised them as angels of light. When they arrived at the gates of heaven, the
demons cried out (quoting Psalm 24), “O
gates, lift high your heads; grow higher, ancient doors. Let him enter, the king of glory!”
The good angels looked out at Jesus (or so they thought), and they chanted the next line of the psalm: “Who is the king of glory?” The devil then opened his arms and shouted, “I am!”
The good angels immediately slammed shut the gates, refusing to let the imposter in.
How did they know it wasn’t Jesus?
They saw no nail marks in his hands! The devil had no scars of love on him. Unlike the real Jesus, he hadn’t sacrificed himself to pay the price for sin.
The real angels in that story knew how to recognize Christ in their midst.
Do we?
It’s not always easy, is it?—especially in today’s “woke world” where most of the news seems to be bad news—really bad news.
And yet Jesus has promised to be with us always until the end of time. So we know by faith that he’s here—even when the circumstances we’re dealing with aren’t so good!
The question is, “How can we be like the good angels in that story, and learn to recognize Christ in our midst?” How can we become more aware of the fact that he’s with us out there in the world (as tough and as cruel as the world can often be)?
The answer is: We can become more aware of the presence of Christ out there, by becoming more aware of the presence of Christ in here—at Mass! This is the lesson we learn from Cleopas and his friend in this Gospel story from Luke 24.
Initially these two men had no awareness that Jesus was in their midst, did they?—even though he was walking right beside them! As St. Augustine wrote, “They had lost faith, lost hope. They were walking along, dead, with Christ alive; they were walking along, dead, with life itself.”
Not a pretty picture. But it does accurately describe their mental and spiritual condition at that moment! They were crushed in spirit—so much so that they really were like “dead men walking.”
What changed them? What brought Cleopas and his friend ‘back to life,’ so to speak?
The Mass!
“But Fr. Ray, it doesn’t say they went to Mass. In fact, the word ‘Mass’ isn’t found anywhere in this story!”
True. But the experience they had on Easter Sunday is the very same experience we have whenever we come to Mass, and that’s quite easy to demonstrate. In every Mass, there are two parts: the Liturgy of the Word, and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. And so it was for Cleopas and his unnamed friend. The Liturgy of the Word started when Jesus began to share the Scriptures with them. This, it seems, went on for several hours! St. Luke tells us that, “beginning with Moses and the prophets, he [i.e., Jesus] interpreted to them what referred to him in all the Scriptures.” So please don’t complain about the length of our homilies here at St. Pius. Compared to these two guys, you have it easy—even on our longest days!
The Liturgy of the Eucharist was celebrated in their home, when Jesus sat at table, and, (here I quote), “took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them.” Sounds like the Last Supper, doesn’t it? Sounds like the words of the priest in the Eucharistic prayer at Mass!
But it wasn’t just attending Mass that made the difference for these men; it was the way they entered into it! Unlike some Catholics, they didn’t have their bodies at Mass and their minds and hearts somewhere else.
St. Augustine indicates that they entered into this “Mass-like” experience by showing Jesus “hospitality.” Put in the terms of this homily, that means they welcomed Jesus both in word and in sacrament. First of all, they welcomed him in word. As he spoke to them, they were all ears. Could this be because they prepared well beforehand? A good case could be made for that. St. Luke begins by saying, “That very day, the first day of the week, two of Jesus’ disciples were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.” Mass for these two men had not even begun, and yet they were already talking to each other about matters of faith! In doing that, they were unknowingly preparing their hearts and minds for the Liturgy!
“Why did this have to happen?” “Why didn’t our people accept Jesus?” “Do you really think he was the Messiah?” These were some of the topics of their discussion. Consequently, when Jesus came along and began to converse with them and teach them during the “Mass,” they were very attentive to what he had to say. They were prepared to hear him.
Do you discuss matters of faith with others on a regular basis? Are these issues that are important to you? Many people will discuss matters of faith only when the purpose of the discussion is to ridicule the Church and Catholicism. That’s not the kind of dialogue I’m talking about! I’m talking about the kind of dialogue Cleopas and his friend were engaged in: dialogue that seeks insight; dialogue that seeks the truth. That’s the kind of dialogue and discussion that prepares someone to receive God’s Word at Mass.
And notice how these men also discussed the Liturgy of the Word after Mass was over! They didn’t “leave it all in church” so to speak. St. Luke tells us that after Jesus had disappeared they said to one another, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?” I’ve had parents tell me that on the way home from church they sometimes talk about the readings and the homily with their children—and that very often the young people are the ones who initiate the discussion! Great! Cleopas and his friend would heartily approve. That’s called “digesting God’s Word.”
And finally, notice how these two men welcomed Jesus in the Eucharist. Here their hospitality was especially evident! The Liturgy of the Word—as important as it was—was obviously not enough for them. They wanted—and needed—something more. As Scripture says, “They urged him, ‘Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.’” At this point in the “Mass,” they wanted to deepen their friendship with this unknown man by sharing a meal with him, which was a common practice in the ancient world. We Americans with our “fast food mentality” tend to eat and run (which is one reason why leaving Mass right after Communion is so common here). The ancients were different. The ancients ate and shared fellowship. Meals were opportunities to deepen relationships; they weren’t “pit stops in the daily rat race.” Many Europeans, of course, still have this understanding and outlook. When I was in Italy several years ago, for example, most of our meals took at least two hours; they were never rushed. And boy, did I eat—but that’s another story.
This is where it all came together for them. At the meal! This is where, as St. Luke tells us, “their eyes were opened, and they [finally] recognized [Jesus].” The Eucharist gave them insight; the Eucharist gave them joy; the Eucharist gave them the ability to recognize Christ in their midst. This is why prayerful contemplation after Communion is so essential. If that is skipped, then we will close ourselves off from many of the graces God wants to give us, and we will probably leave the church as spiritually blind as when we entered.
Do you think Cleopas and his friend ever doubted that Jesus Christ was with them from this day onward? After their Mass with Jesus which began on the road to Emmaus, I don’t think so. They might never have seen him again as they did on that Easter Sunday, but I’m quite confident they were still able to see him wherever they went. Like Mother Teresa—who, not coincidentally, went to Mass every day!—they were probably aware of his presence even in the midst of very difficult circumstances.
They saw him “out there,” because they had learned to see him “in here.”
Dear Jesus, give us that same ability. Help us to welcome you with true hospitality in word and sacrament at this Mass and at every Mass we attend. Amen.