And Did Not Our Hearts Burn Within Us...

The Walk to Emmaus Window in the Lady Chapel of St. George's Cathedral, Kingston Ontario

One of the Gospel stories that I often have had to struggle with, is the Easter story of how Cleopas and his companion are walking along the road to Emmaus, and  encounter our Lord but do not recognize him.  In the church where I grew up,  there was a beautiful window over the font that showed that story with the words "And did not our hearts burn within us as he talked with us on the way?" In the Lady Chapel here in the Cathedral another window telling that story stands beside the Altar.  How could these faithful followers not get it?  How could they not recognize Jesus on that Resurrection Day?  These are the sort of questions that often have plagued me each time I have to preach on this passage.

Now for much of my adult life, my sister has told me that I am the most dense individual that she knows. Its one of those things that only a sister can say to you, but she is actually quite right. So often,  subtle is completely lost on me.  I just miss those cues.  I think God would also agree with my sister,  because it usually takes a less than subtle experience for me to truly get it.

A few weeks back,  I was at St. James' Cathedral in Toronto for the funeral of The Most Rev. Terry Finlay.  There was a huge crowd gathered for the funeral,  and I think that word had certainly gotten out to the local poor because there were almost as many panhandlers out as there were people coming to remember and celebrate the life of the Archbishop.  

Since returning from Amazonia with my black ring that reminds me that I must be the sort of person who doesn't simply walk on by,  but rather stops to help,  I hold myself to the discipline of sitting down with the people who ask me for money and talking with them rather than simply dropping the loose change for which they ask.  it is a way of giving them the gift of affirming their human dignity.  

On that late March day,  it was chilly and drizzly in Toronto, and I had to park a fair distance from the Cathedral.  As i walked to the church,  I was met by the first request. I sat and talked with the man for a few moments,  and then gave him what change I had in my pocket and then hurried on to get to the service on time. 

When the service had ended, I was famished, and decided to try to find something int he downtown area that was open and that would have something available that was gluten-free.  I found only one such place. As I entered that place there was a man dressed in ragged clothing warming himself in the cover of the doorway.  As I waited for service,  the owner of the place burst out of the back of the Restaurant and completely blew up at the man telling him he had to go,  he was driving away her customers.  He protested "I'm just trying to get out of the rain long enough to warm up."  She continued to yell until he headed his way.  I thought to myself, "if he's not welcome here,  than neither am I." and so I left.  As I passed him along the way I reached into my pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill, almost the only cash I had left, and gave it to him and took him into Tim Hortons where he could get a coffee and a place to sit and warm up. 

I decided then that I would just walk back to my car and get back to Kingston,  where i could make myself a late lunch. As i was crossing the street toward the place where my car was parked, a homeless man in a wheelchair called out to me.  Mistaking the purple piping on my Decanal vest for the mark of a Bishop, he called out, "Hey, Bishop!  BISHOP!  COME HERE."  I crossed over to sit and talk with this man. I first explained to him that I was not a Bishop, but rather a Dean.  He smiled a smile that seemed to say, "Yeah... so what." I reached in my pocket before the conversation got going too far, and relinquished the last $5 of actual cash that I had to my name.

His name was Gerry,  and he had lived an extremely varied life.  His story had many ups and downs.  But as we talked,  he first began to turn the tables and instead of letting me find out more about him, he began to ask questions and learn about me, then he began to turn things around again to talk about Spiritual things.  Finally, he said, "I guess Religion is just a necessary evil."  I replied, "No. Religion is perhaps the worst thing that humanity has ever brought upon the face of this world,  but faith is God's greatest gift to humanity."  Gerry thought for a moment,  but then said, "What you have said is very true." 

As he said this,  I found myself thinking, "Gerry really looks like a sculpture I once saw called Jesus of the Streets."  I had no more than thought it than Gerry said to me, "It just happened.  I saw it in your eyes." I asked what he meant, and instead of answering my question, he asked me a question instead. He asked, "What does he look like in your eyes."

We talked for quite a while longer with Gerry insisting on continuing to refer to me as Bishop, (perhaps because he could see me visibly flinch every time he said it) but there were two things that happened for me in that moment.  First of all,  Gerry said, "Did you notice that the rain has stopped?"  and second,  me realizing that just like Cleopas and his companion, I had met the Risen Jesus, and I had talked to him on the road. And like Cleopas and his companion, my heart had burned within me as we talked on that road.  And then when I got into my car to return to Camden East,  I did so with an urgency to get there and to call loved ones and declare to them "I have seen the Lord."

I had desperately wanted to preach about this experience on the third Sunday of Easter, only to discover that I would be in Chicago at the North American Conference of Cathedral Deans on that Sunday .  For the time,  this little blog post will have to be my declaration of my Emmaus Road experience.  But nonetheless,  it reminds me that "Alleluia! Christ is Risen!  The lord is Risen indeed! Alleluia!"

 Αλλελυια! Χριστός ἀνέστη! 

The Anglican church at Tilbury where over the font in which I was baptized stood the Beautiful Road to Emmaus Window that first challenged me with this amazing story.

On the Week called Holy

It sometimes seems odd to folks that I would always say that Holy Week is my favourite week of the year.  There is almost no other week in the life of a priest where you work harder.  The themes of the week are filled with dark and difficult imagery.  And yet,  the closer I get to Palm Sunday and the start of Holy Week,  the more I get excited by the prospects of taking that walk with Christ "From the glory of the palms to the glory of the resurrection" by way of the dark road of suffering and death.

Although it is a mantra that usually drives me a little bit crazy in the church,  I sort of miss the old way,  when Passion Sunday stood on its own as the fifth Sunday of Lent, and allowed us to get our first experience of the story of the Passion, and opened Palm Sunday to simply celebrate the entry into Jerusalem.  But change is an inevitable part of life.  I remember being told in my seminary days that the change was because so many people came to Palm Sunday and to Easter Sunday,  but skipped Good Friday because it was too depressing, and wondering, how can this incredible demonstration of the depth of God's love for us be depressing?

But when Palm Sunday and the Liturgy of the passion are finished,  we move into daily Eucharistic celebrations, each intended to draw us in closer, and to help us to see the love that will be exemplified on the cross.  As you walk that daily walk through the week, you hear a series of love stories, that combined, make the cross on Friday into a shining beacon.

On Monday,  we hear of a woman anointing Jesus feet, washing them with her tears, and wiping them with her hair.  It is a powerful and very physical story that points us forward to the grave that now looms on the horizon. On Tuesday,  with the Chrism Mass,  the sacraments of unction and Baptism are given the focus in the Liturgy,  but still the Gospel invites us to reflect on the incredible love of God. On Wednesday we hear of some Greeks who come seeking to see Jesus.  But as Jesus reveals himself to them,  he tells how he will be lifted up from the earth to draw all people to himself.

And with Thursday,  we begin the Paschal tritium.  That simply means the Great Three Days of Easter.  People often wonder,  how can Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy and Saturday, and Easter Sunday possibly constitute the "Three days of Easter."  We have to remember that this celebration is not driven by our own calendar,  but by the calendar in which it happened, and in the Jewish calendar,  a new day began at sunset.  The activities of Thursday night in our reckoning were actually just early happenings of Friday. At any rate,  we gather when the sun has set,  and we remember the servanthood of Jesus.  We remember it. The clergy act it out, to remind us that it is not some far off concept from an ancient day,  but a here and now imperative that the church is called to today.  We get our English word for this day of Maundy from a mispronunciation of the latin word mandatum, which means commandment.  It is on this night that Jesus says, "A new commandment give I unto you, that you love one another as I have loved you." In this night, we are reminded in very vivid terms that we are called to get out into the world as a force for LOVE.  Many great traditions have grown up around Maundy Thursday, including the tradition of Maundy Money.  The monarch chooses a group of the poor (according to the age of the monarch) and gives to them a monetary gift as a sign of love.  Love is the defining message of this service.

We then celebrate the Eucharist on this night, remembering that it is on this night that Jesus first gave that meal to his followers.  Finally,  the Altar is stripped of all its beautiful things and the lights of the Cathedral are turned out.  We turn and leave in silence, remembering how everyone left Jesus alone and abandoned.  We leave without a blessing but like so many things in the church, that is for a very practical reason.  The services of Thursday, Friday and Saturday were originally one service, and people went home in between times, or stayed in the church for silent prayer time.  We leave without a blessing because the service isn't over yet.

When Friday morning comes,  we gather with the cross at St. paul's and begin the Via Dolorosa or "Way of Sorrows" as we walk from there to St. George's.  This service of prayer and meditation is meant to draw to mind the very real walk that pilgrims take through the city of Jerusalem along the path that Jesus first walked from the Antonia Fortress in Jerusalem to Golgatha.  When we arrive at the Cathedral,  we hold a service of meditation on the Cross.  people who wish are invited to go to the chapel to receive the sacrament from the reserved sacrament as we remember the day on which this sacrifice actually was made. Once again,  we leave in silence without a blessing.

And then comes Saturday.  Again, we gather once the sun has set.  We gather in darkness,  but then a new fire is kindled and blessed, and the Easter or Paschal Candle is lit from that flame.  We re-enter the church remembering how God led the faithful with a pillar of fire, by following the pillar of fire of our Easter Candle.  We take some time to hear again the stories of how God has saved God's people, and particularly those stories that tell how God saved through Water.  Finally,  it is declared to be Easter, and the bells ring and the organ plays a fanfare,  and the lights are brought up.  We sing out the praise that we have muted for all the long days of Lent, as we hear the long-awaited words, "Alleluia! Christ is Risen!" Then, as it has done since its earliest days,  we either baptize new christians, or renew our own Baptismal promises before the celebration of the first Easter Eucharist.  When this great service is completed, I usually got home on such a high note that even though I am dead tired, I cannot manage to close my eyes.  Alleluia! Life Wins!  Love Wins! All the love we have heard about in each of the daily services is shown to be more powerful than death itself.

When Easter morning arrives and the church is filled with joyful worshippers,  it is to celebrate not just the Resurrection, but all that has come before it in this marvellous week.  It is only by way of the Cross that Resurrection is possible. It is a message that still needs to be heard in our time.  We cannot avoid the difficult things that come to us in life and expect to experience new life.  God calls us to walk down a path that leads to life,  but that path will take us through difficulty, just as it did Jesus.   I look forward to seeing you all for Easter,  but do me a favour, please.  Come and try walking the whole walk with me.  I can guarantee you that you will have never experienced the joy of Easter in the same way.