Reflections on today's Gospel Reading

Just before the turn of the century, a train rumbled through a French province headed for Paris. Two men sat opposite each other: the one, a young soldier obviously bored with the inactivity; the other, an old man quite content to finger his rosary beads. As the monotonous miles bumped along, the soldier could not restrain himself. He blurted out in the direction of the old man: “God isn’t going to save our world -- science is!”

The old man merely smiled and nodded and continued with his prayers. The “put down” was too much of a challenge to avoid, so the young man launched into a tirade on the marvels of science in business and medicine. Declaring religion to be dying out as the light of science came in, he continued his attack until the train arrived at the Paris depot.

As the soldier stood up to get his bag, he felt sorry for the old man who had silently taken his abuse for the past hour. Trying to sound a bit kinder, he introduced himself. The elderly gentleman shook the soldier’s hand and reached into his vest for a card. The young man accepted the card and helped the old man down the steps. Then he glanced at the card: “Dr. Louis Pasteur, Academy of Science, Paris.”

Daily we live and work in the presence of the Risen Christ, yet how often we fail to recognize him. We overlook the obvious. In this we are not alone. The disciples, too, had difficulty recognizing Jesus. They suffered from myopia. The readings today suggest that if we broaden our narrow vision, if we sensitize ourselves to his presence and search him out, we will find him -- in the Word, in the Eucharist and in one another.

Through his Word, God speaks to us of Jesus. The Easter story is not simply one recorded long ago for people of a former age. It is our story, speaking to us today. If it does not penetrate, it is because we are unwilling to pull away from the world and center ourselves on the inner spirit. If it does not speak, it is because we need to open ourselves to it in small doses - no more than four or five verses at a time. Focus attention on God’s communication here and now.

Allow him to speak. Don’t become the know-it-all in conversation with God. “Recall those words I spoke to you when I was with you: everything written about me in the law of Moses and the prophets and psalms had to be fulfilled.” If we are willing, he will open our minds to the understanding of the Scriptures. God fulfills in us what he announced long ago through the prophets. Whoever keeps his word truly has the love of God made perfect within. If we are sensitive to his presence, we will hear his word.

In the Eucharist, the Risen Christ is present to us at Sunday Mass. We eat his flesh and drink the cup of his blood. There is an intimate communion of heart and mind in this sacrament -- an interior experience of Christ.

Bread signifies the meaning of life and death for it comes from wheat, the fruit of a seed that has been put into the ground to die in order that new life might begin. Wheat is used for making bread only after it has been crushed and sifted, pounded and kneaded. To abandon ourselves to Christ means to place ourselves into his hands as bread to be broken. With the tender hands of crucifixion, he will not tear or destroy us; rather, he will break us gently. When we are willing to let go, we will recognize him and he will break and spend us for one another. If we broaden our narrow vision, we will see him active and present in our lives. Remember: “They came to know Jesus in the breaking of the bread.”

Lastly, we find Jesus in one another. If we are not sensitive to the needs of others, we may miss Christ -- just as the soldier missed Louis Pasteur and the disciples missed Jesus.

Sometimes the risen Christ makes himself present to us in the form of a small child, a salesman at the door or a beggar; sometimes he speaks to us through a friend . . . or an enemy. It is very easy for us to turn away from Christ when he appears too human. If Jesus asks for a bite of our fish -- he can’t be God; he’s too human, too common, too available. As Peter suggests, we run the risk of “putting the Author of life to death” by our ignorance.

Like the disciples, we come to recognize Christ slowly -- not only in his word but also in the breaking of the bread and in one another.