This morning's Gospel is one of the most memorable accounts of the risen Jesus. In this wonderful story, two gloomy disciples are plodding home from Jerusalem to Emmaus, their hopes dashed by the death of their beloved master Jesus, and yet their interest also stirred by wild rumours that he is, somehow, alive again.
And then Jesus himself draws alongside them – for some mysterious reason they don't recognise him – and they get into conversation. Jesus almost playfully quizzes them about what has been going on in Jerusalem (as if he didn't know!), and then he rebukes them sharply for not understanding the Scriptures better, and explains to them from the Scriptures why the Messiah had to suffer.
When they get to Emmaus, the disciples press this stranger to come in and eat with them, and he does . . . and then, when he takes the bread, and blesses and breaks it, finally they see who he is – and then he vanishes! The astonished disciples rush back to Jerusalem and share their story with the others. Their gloom has been replaced by wonder after their encounter with the risen Lord.
There's a lot going on in this story, but I'd like to focus on just one issue: How does the risen Jesus make himself known to the disciples? Jesus does two things to clarify the disciples' understanding of him, and to help them recognise his living presence with them. First, he explains the Scriptures to them; and second, he breaks bread. Let's think about each of these, and how they are relevant to us today.
Jesus explains the Scriptures to the disciples, and later they say to each other: "Didn't our hearts burn within us as he talked to us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us?" It's a wonderful phrase: our hearts were burning within us. (For some of us that may call to mind the painful experience of indigestion, but that's not what's in mind here!) John Wesley used almost exactly the same words 1700 years later when he said that his heart was "strangely warmed" as he listened to someone explain a passage from Paul's letter to the Galatians. The love of Christ came alive for Wesley as he heard the Scriptures explained.
The Scriptures are not just a collection of ancient writings. They are powerful. Not powerful in the way we might imagine magic spells to be, where the words themselves are the focus of mysterious power. The transforming power of the Scriptures is not like magic; their power comes not from the Scriptures themselves but from what they point to. They point to Christ, who is their central theme, hidden in the OT and revealed in the NT. It's a powerful thing, a heart-warming, challenging, life-changing thing, to hear the Scriptures so explained and brought alive that the reality of Christ impinges sharply on us. Like those disciples on the road to Emmaus, our hearts burn within us with a new grasp of God's love for us and for the world, a new sense also of the life that God calls us to. As one of the Psalms says: "The unfolding of your words brings light". When Jesus unfolds the words of Scripture it brings light and joy to the disciples. Still today, the unfolding of the Scriptures is one way the risen Christ makes himself known.
But secondly, Jesus breaks bread, and at that moment the disciples see who he is. This action of breaking bread is very distinctive of Jesus. He has broken bread with the disciples many times before, particularly at the Last Supper, where he makes clear that the broken bread points to his own body given for us on the Cross. This is how the risen Jesus chooses to make his presence known to us: a simple, physical way, disarmingly simple, perhaps, for those who would prefer something more intellectual and abstract. But we are not all mind; that's not how God made us. In the breaking of bread, Christ chooses a simple, physical way to make himself known. And it's important that Christ chooses to make himself known in the context of a meal, an occasion when we are brought together, when we're not just individuals, but members of one body: "Though we are many, we are one body, because we all share in one bread."
So we've seen how the risen Christ uses Scripture and Sacrament – Bible and Bread – to open our eyes, to draw us into the mystery of who he is. If we look back over our lives, one or the other, Scripture or Sacrament, has probably had the greater emphasis in our own Christian formation. But of course we need both, and both are given for us all. On a usual Sunday morning the unfolding of the words of Scripture is held closely together with the breaking of the bread. It's not either/or: we get them both. In the normal life of this church, they combine in the weekly shared encounter with the God who comes to us in the risen Christ.
But for some weeks now we have not been experiencing the normal life of this church. We cannot gather to worship; we do not listen together to the Scriptures read and interpreted; we cannot receive the bread and wine to be fed by Christ's body and blood.
Not being able to receive the sacrament may be painful and disorientating for those for whom it has been a central part of their spiritual lives. But we can still listen attentively to the word of God and be nourished by it. Our minds can be opened, our hearts burn within us as we encounter the risen Christ through scripture. And if reading the Bible has not been a particularly significant practice for you in the past, why not try it, especially if you have time on your hands at present? Reading through Mark, the shortest of the Gospels, would be a good place to start. And when, please God, we do return to 'service as normal', be aware that there are different opportunities offered at St Ursula's to engage more deeply with the Bible. Talk to Helen or me if you're interested to learn more.
On the other hand, for some Christians the Bible has always been centre-stage, while receiving communion may be a respected part of church life but is a bit more marginal. During this time that we cannot receive the sacrament, we might want to reflect afresh on its significance in our Christian lives; to rejoice that Christ gives himself to us in such a simple physical way, and so draws us together into one community; and so come to value more deeply what we are given when we break bread together Sunday by Sunday.
So, even during these weeks when we cannot gather in church, we pray that, like those disciples on the Emmaus road, we will be surprised by the joy of the risen Christ, mysteriously coming alongside us, even at our most despondent moments. May our hearts burn within us as we learn more of Christ in the Scriptures, and let us look forward to the day when we can again celebrate the presence of Christ among us in the breaking of the bread.
Revd David Marshall