Luke 24

At times I will again be struck by the smallness of the thing, of this bit of bread and sip of wine.

This winter I had the opportunity to observe a Caravaggio painting upclose and often: his Supper at Emmaus (1601) was on loan to the Art Institute of Chicago from its permanent home in London’s National Gallery. From the Century offices, it was only a few steps across Michigan Avenue to see this vibrant, dramatic painting.

This winter I had the opportunity to observe a Caravaggio painting upclose and often: his Supper at Emmaus (1601) was on loan to the Art Institute of Chicago from its permanent home in London’s National Gallery. From the Century offices, it was only a few steps across Michigan Avenue to see this vibrant, dramatic painting.

We Christians believe that we have a moral obligation to point to the pain that the rest of the world can’t see. Others may stroll past the suffering, but we stop and stare, take up an offering, make an appeal and collect blankets, sighing as we do our bit to alleviate some of the misery. That life may not actually be rotten in our part of the world today only increases our guilt for our occasional lapses into joy. How dare we sing when others are sufffering?

The first disciples experienced Jesus’ resurrection not as some single triumphant fait accompli, but by fits and starts.

The first disciples experienced Jesus’ resurrection not as some single triumphant fait accompli, but by fits and starts.

Appearing to two nobodies going nowhere is an interesting choice.

Appearing to two nobodies going nowhere is an interesting choice.

Of the four evangelists, Luke alone writes an actual exit scene for the risen Jesus.

Chances are that your world is either experiencing or anticipating an awakening earth after months of winter slumber. Grass is turning green, azaleas are splashing the landscape with brilliant reds, dogwoods are sprouting pink and white blooms—little Easter catechisms shaped like crosses and complete, each one, with a crown of thorns. When the birds begin their morning songs these days, and the bees their carpentry, we imagine that the sounds they make are Easter music served up by nature, as the church’s most important holy day coincides with the renewed activity of creation.

Bread and fish are not much of an Easter dinner.

Bread and fish are not much of an Easter dinner.

On the walk to Emmaus, Jesus is first recognized as an alien.