The Third Sunday of Easter, Year A
April 14, 2002
Christ Church, Covington

“Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread” (Lk. 24:35). 

Our Gospel today is about the recovery of memory; not, of course, a case of amnesia cured, but of the recovery of memory in a deeper sense, the knowledge of a person and a life lived together. The setting is the evening of Easter Day, as recounted by the Gospel writer Luke; two disciples make their way from Jerusalem to the nearby village of Emmaus, deep in converse concerning the things that have taken place. A stranger falls in with them, a person they do not recognize, yet it is Jesus himself who walks with them. This stranger opens the Scriptures to them and explains the meaning of the things that have happened. When they are at table together at the end of the day, the stranger takes bread and breaks it in the familiar gesture of Jewish table fellowship, and the two travelers recognize that it is Jesus.

It is the presence of the Lord that leads to the recovery of this deep memory. Consider for a moment the memories of the disciples as a whole. They have been with Jesus through his ministry of teaching and healing; they have been taught by his precepts and guided by his example. They have also accompanied him to Jerusalem and seen the final conflict with the religious authorities. They remember the arrest, where Jesus stands alone, and the fact that Jesus is crucified in company with two thieves rather than with his friends. In fact, they remember betrayal and abandonment, and they are the culprits.

What a memory. This sort of memory is no blessing, but a curse. This is the sort of memory that drives to despair. This is the sort of memory that blights a life. This is the sort of memory that is best forgotten, if it cannot be healed.

Yet this is exactly what the Risen Lord does in the encounter with the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. He teaches them from the Scripture that (as the stranger says) “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” (Lk. 24:26). Further, at table at the close of the day, in the familiar gestures of the shared meal, a meal like many others they had shared with him, Cleopas and the other disciple recognize that the one who has been with them is Jesus himself. Suddenly, they know the Lord is alive.

What the disciples have been given back is the knowledge of the living Lord, and of a life lived with Jesus, who shared himself in meals and fellowship and in every way. It is memory, yet not the product of their own fevered imaginations, because it is Jesus himself who gives this memory back to them. He is the only one who can give it back, because he was the one who died. He is the one who pronounces the blessing that gives life, and he is not a ghost. Their memory of betrayal and death is healed by God’s own action, overcoming all that they have done and experienced. That, too, is given back to them, for Jesus’ body still bears the marks of the wounds; yet it is all changed and healed and restored. Jesus gives himself back to the disciples, and in some sense, he gives them back themselves as well. They are his disciples, who have shared his life and will share it with others.

Now we come to ourselves, and to what we do this morning. It is significant in this story that Cleopas and the other recognize Jesus “in the breaking of the bread”. This is an early Christian term for the eucharist, and Luke uses it intentionally here to remind us of that significant meal that Jesus shared before his crucifixion, and of the significant meal that we continue to share. For it is in the eucharist, in our breaking of the bread, that we recover our own memories.

Luke’s Gospel, in this story, is saying to the Church now that we encounter the risen Lord in the eucharist. It is in reading and interpreting the Scripture, and in breaking bread together with Christ, that we discover that Jesus is alive, not dead. We never celebrate this meal without recounting that it took place “on the night he was handed over to suffering and death”, yet what brings us here week by week is the knowledge that Jesus is alive and powerful to save.

This is the memory that we recover as we gather to hear the Scriptures and to gather around the altar. We are the spiritual amnesiacs whom Jesus has commanded to “do this for the remembrance of me”. We are awfully prone to forget, yet Jesus commands us to recall and remember. In this sacrament we are given the grace of Christ’s Body and Blood to keep in mind that God brings life out of death, and in the resurrection of Jesus Christ has given us new life. It is a deep memory, knowledge that is too wonderful for us (almost), but it is this that we are bound to remember. This is why we eat the bread and drink the cup, and draw near to the living Christ.

The Rev’d John Bauerschmidt is Rector of Christ Church, Covington.

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