May 1, 2014
The following is a homily for Sunday, May 4.
There are hunches. And there are hunches. Some hunches turn out right, and some prove misdirected. Some hunches come to us in an instant, while other simmer for a while. But I think hunches we have about things are very different than hunches we have about people. Having a hunch about a stock is one thing. Having a hunch about a person is something altogether dissimilar.
Why? Because when we have hunches about people that we’ve met, it’s because they already made an impression on us. They already have begun to affect us. The hunch we have expresses a relationship already begun. We have hunches about new bosses, and hunches about teachers – we find out pretty quickly if they are on target or not. “I thought she was going to be nice.” And we have hunches about friends, and particularly initial hunches about people we end up loving. We find ourselves in love almost without realizing it – because a relationship already began and eventually grew into something that changed our lives.
Cleopas and his companion say something very strange, something we need to think about. “Were not our hearts burning as we walked along?” But they only realize this later, after Jesus has broken the bread for them. As they walked along, as Jesus explored their feelings and explained the Scriptures, Jesus was forming a relationship with them. But, like someone who discovers she or he is already in love, it only comes together after a while. They had a hunch, but they couldn’t put it together.
So when do our hearts burn? When does it dawn on us that Jesus has come to be the center, the meaning of our lives? Some people say they hearts never burned. They go to other churches, or, unfortunately more often they stop going to church. “It’s so boring. I get nothing out of it?” They walked so far along with road with Jesus without recognizing him, his love, and the relationship that he has begun with us.
I mean, what if Cleopas and his companion just kept on eating after Jesus disappeared? What if they just shrugged their shoulders? What if they said, “Well that was strange,” and let it go at that? Is it possible to be loved but not know it, realize it, accept it, be changed by it? It seems that way.
So Jesus has taken the first step. He has begun a walk alongside every one of us. He has opened the scriptures with the greatest news we can hear – that we are not senseless blobs produced by mindless atoms, but embodied spirits called to an eternal destiny. As the Scriptures underline: it was necessary for him to die so that we could come to know the extent of divine love for each of us, for all of us. And, even more, he has sat us at his table, taken up bread and wine, told us to be one with him, because he has become our food, our life. And he has sent his Holy Spirit upon us, that we may be filled with the same life that filled him – the Spirit of love and grace.
How sweet it would be if, after every Sunday Mass, it dawned on us later on that day, and later on during the week, just how privileged we are to meet the Risen Jesus every Sunday, and just how much are hearts have been set on fire because of this meeting.