Reflecting on Luke 24:13-35

And so it comes around again, this most beautifully developed of all the appearance stories.  It’s not new to us, but our hearts burn within us as we hear again of those two disciples who left Jerusalem that Easter morning.

Caravaggio

We know the name of one—Cleopas—but the second disciple goes unnamed.  I think she was probably Mrs. Cleopas.  Might this traveler have been the very Mary, wife of Clopas who stood at the foot of the cross in John’s Gospel?  If so, then her companions that dreadful Friday had been no less than Mary Magdalene and Mary, the mother of Jesus.  And yet now she and her husband, after the terrifying event, are leaving the city and returning to their home in Emmaus.

The tomb is empty.  Where is he?  What can it mean?  Is there any reason to hope that he’s alive?

And then of course they are met on the road by a fellow traveler.  Hasn’t he heard of all the events in Jerusalem these past three days?  And they begin to let their hearts break a little as they tell the stranger about him whom they love.

I wonder.  What if, in these Easter weeks of First Communions and Confirmations, we walked with our children for just a little bit and told them about him whom we love.  Take a walk this week with someone and talk about Jesus.  I’ll bet you he’ll show up right there, on the road, on the journey.  Draw near to him and watch him draw near to you.  And then get ready for some heart-burn.

In what ways do you sense the presence of Jesus when you speak with others about him?

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I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on John 20:19-31

Afterwards, people asked me questions for the rest of my life.  Why didn’t I believe the others when they told me the Lord had appeared to them that Easter morning? Wasn’t I ashamed to stand before him after I had demanded proof of his resurrection?

Caravaggio

I don’t remember any of that.  When he entered the room that night everything changed forever.  My Jesus, my Savior, my Risen One was alive.  And all my deepest hopes came roaring back.

He showed me his wounds—his pierced wrists and his gaping side—but all the things I thought I needed to see and touch melted as he stood before me.  His face was so radiant with love for me, so full of joy for me, because he knew that with the words from his mouth I would come back to myself.

And then, after he ascended to heaven, I traveled far outside the Roman Empire to preach my Jesus, who loved me enough to come back to the room where I waited, longing, afraid to hope, secretly bursting with hope.

Are you afraid to hope that he will lead you out of your grave, just as he knew the way out of his own?  Listen to my voice, reaching you right now from the ancient Gospel.  He’s alive.

Is there a part of you is wrestling with unbelief these days?

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I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on John 20:1-9

There is, in the city of Jerusalem, a most peaceful garden.  It has a water cistern that dates back to the time of Christ, and in fact a first-century tomb is there too.  This “garden tomb” is close to a rock quarry, with a particular rock that resembles a skull.  This quarry would have been “just outside the city gates” in Jesus’ day.  Might it have been “the skull place”—Golgotha—where Jesus was crucified, and might the garden “nearby” have been the very one that was offered by Joseph of Arimathea as the burial place for Jesus?

Church of the Holy Sepulchre

It’s so peaceful to pray there.  The flowers are always in bloom.  The birds sing.  It’s exactly how you’ve pictured it all your life.  You want so badly for this to be the place.

But of course it’s not the place.  The actual site of the empty tomb is the huge, cavernous, ancient Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  Constantine’s mother St. Helena built this  iconic memorial over the very rock of Golgotha and the very ground in which Jesus was buried, and from which he rose.

Today, millions of people swarm in and around the church every day of the year. It’s loud, and it’s dirty, and it’s so, so old.  And it’s exactly the place.  They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they’ve put him. We want him to be in the quiet, lovely garden.  But he is, always, just where we are.  He is risen, and he is with us, in the ages, in the suffering, in the clamor.  The tomb is empty, because he lives now with us. ALLELUIA.

Do you have a special place where you sense the risen Lord?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).