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Easter 2 - Sunday
Evening - 7th April 2013
Isa. 53. 1-6; 9-12
Luke 24. 13 - 35
It seems as though, as a nation, we have become addicted to food
- or at least to watching others cook and prepare it; The Great
British Bake Off; Masterchef; Saturday Kitchen; Come Dine with
Me. I don't suppose that there is anyone here who hasn't watched
at least one of those programmes in recent times.... and if we
go back a bit there is Jamie, Delia, the galloping Gourmet ....
and yes, I am just old enough to remember Fanny Craddock... although
she always terrified me as a child!
And yet, at the same time, we know that our attitude to food
has become a problem.... we have a growing obesity epidemic.
Many of us rely far too much ( and I put my hand up here) to
buying labour saving processed or part-processed meals, that
contain too much of the wrong sort of ingredients for our health
and well-being. We eat far too much for the sort of sedentary
life-styles that most of us now have.... (and I am only too well
aware of the irony of saying this words before a Sunday evening
traditional visit to the Pigot and the probable chip butty that
awaits there!)
And yet the sharing of meals and the rituals that surround hospitality
are deep with spiritual meaning and are a vital part of our faith
and the nurturing of religion that we all need.
Judaism is a religion that
is carried out as much in the home as in the synagogue. Synagogues
are places to meet and pray together - to sing and worship in
public, but it is in the home and around the dinner table that
the faith is first taught - and caught. Even for pretty secular
Jews, there is something special about the Friday night Shabbat
meal shared with family. And in observant households then the
elaborate preparing , cooking and eating of food is full of significance
and meaning.
So it is not surprising that
the Bible teaches us on numerous occasions that one of the best
places to encounter God is at the table. God both entertains
humanity, and we seek to entertain God... although not always
realising what it is we are doing.
It begins in Genesis with God providing the newly created man
and woman with every good fruit to sustain them. And later there
is the famous occasion when Abraham welcomes three strangers
to his camp and insists on providing hospitality for them, little
suspecting that the Lord himself has come visiting. The outcome
of that meal will be the covenant promise of a nation and a land.
Even in Psalm 23 - after the imagery of the shepherd tending
to his flock, we learn that God will prepare a banquet at his
table for us - in token of his goodness and faithful love. He
waits upon his guests, pouring sweet scented oil over their heads
and faces, treating them (us) as if they were royalty and this
was their coronation and filling their glasses so full with wine
that it overflows.
So it is with all of that imagery
in our ears and hearts that the meal at Emmaus takes on special
significance. Unlike some of the other Gospels, Luke never ventures
far from Jerusalem - he never gets back to Galilee, even when
he tells us of Jesus' ascension. But Luke is a master story-teller.
He sets up the suspense of the tale as the two disciples trudge
wearily away from Jerusalem, returning to their home. They do
not appear to have been at the tomb with Peter, they are unsure
what to make of the tales of a missing body. It seems as though
all their hopes and dreams lie shattered on a cross. And yet
the stranger they encounter seems to have new things to tell
them about the familiar old scriptures. New ways of taking familiar
ingredients - ones they have consumed all their lives - and re-presenting
them in a novel and stimulating way. Their interest is piqued.
Their spirits enlivened.
When the stranger makes as though to continue on his journey
- as etiquette demands, they remember their manners to invite
him in to stay with them. And also as etiquette demands, he accepts
the offer to dine and stay with them.
But at the dinner table, the
stranger does a strange and wonderful thing. At first he seems
to act the host - taking and blessing the bread. This is surely
the job that Cleopas should have performed.
And then (and even more amazingly)
he begins to carry out the role of a servant. Breaking and sharing
the bread among the guests. And it is this contrast, this double
action of being both host and servant that enables the penny
to drop, the veil to fall, and the disciples finally realise
that they have been entertaining, and been entertained by, the
risen Christ. Another surprising encounter with God at the dinner
table.
As has been written :
In all societies, both simple and complex, eating is the
primary way of initiating and maintaining human relationships
.... To know what, where, how, when and with whom people eat,
is to know the character of their society.
Jesus both scandalised people
and put a unique stamp on the movement he inspired by the people
he so gladly ate with - by his refusal to deny anyone a place
in his circle and at his table.
Sometimes Luke has Jesus reclining
at a table to eat. But it is fair to assume that - apart from
the Last Supper, that was not his usual or preferred style. For
reclining at table (in Roman fashion) meant that one had to be
served - and was therefore the practice of the wealthy, those
who owned servants or slaves. Not only did Jesus not have slaves
- he took it upon himself to do their work, as in the story of
washing the disciples' feet. He did not leave the serving of
food to others. He did it himself, and in the act of taking,
blessing, breaking and giving, he indicates a process of equal
sharing.
That is why the Emmaus story
is so important to us, and when Cleopas and his companion return
to Jerusalem to talk with the others, they tell them that it
is in 'he breaking of the bread' that Jesus was revealed to them.
It is fascinating - and entertaining
- to watch a great chef create a fabulous dish ... but when we
are starving, it is often the simplest of ingredients, maybe
presented in a new way, that will satisfy the deepest hunger.
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