April 7, 2010

• They Recognized Him in the Breaking

  

  Two weeks ago, as we were preparing ourselves for Holy Week and the reality of Christ’s suffering and death, we read about the people of God being troubled by seraph serpents, and that they were saved by looking at a bronze serpent on a pole. The Gospel reading that accompanied this passage had people asking Jesus who he was, and He answered, “What I told you from the beginning… But the one who sent me is true, and what I heard from him I tell the world.” They did not realize that he was speaking to them of the Father. So Jesus said to them, “When you lift up the Son of Man, then you will realize that I AM…”

  Today we hear in the Gospel of the road to Emmaus, on virtually the opposite side of Holy Week. Before we were coming toward Jerusalem; today we are walking away. Yet we cannot escape the cross. The disciples on that road were in despair, because the man they believed was the Son of God turned out to be a mortal man after all. They tell a stranger on the way that this man they mourned was, “a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people,” and that the chief priests and rulers handed him over to be crucified. These poor men were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel. They go on further to describe the reports of His rising, and then the empty tomb, but they did not see Him and thus did not believe.

  How could they forget His promise, the promise we heard proclaimed two weeks ago, that when the Son of Man was lifted up, they would realize who He truly was? What is it about Christ on the cross that tells us that He is the Son of God and not merely a great prophet?

  Returning to the very earliest days of Lent, we recall the story of the temptation of Jesus in the desert. These temptations can be seen as the Devil’s attempt to persuade Jesus to shirk His humanity and take full advantage of His divinity. Yet we know, from centuries before in Isaiah, that the Messiah would be “God with us.” Christ was meant to be a man: not in a Nestorian sense as though He wore a human body like a suit, but to truly be a man in every way but sin. To turn stones into bread for Himself, to throw Himself from atop the temple, or to rule the earth- these are not things that are humanly possible, and anyone who was a witness to such events (particularly at the temple) would have to accept, beyond a doubt, that He was truly God. But Christ did not desire to convince people beyond a doubt as to who He was; He desired the conversion of hearts beyond reason and evidence.

  He desired love.

  So though He performed great deeds, they were not so great as to prove His claims of divinity. In spite of these works even his closest followers would flee at His capture and despair at His death, huddling in fear and knowing not what to do. Yet He promised that His crucifixion would reveal His divinity.

  It would be far easier for a man to convince another that he is divine than it ever would be for God to convince us that He is human. We see it often enough, that a particularly powerful or clever man convinces people that he is a prophet, a god, whatever. But imagine that God comes to you, claiming to be a man. How could God possibly convince us of that?

  The only possible way for God to prove that He had in fact become human was to die, and not merely any death, but a death so horrible and so final that even a fool would know that there was no coming back. God would not merely die of sickness or old age; He would be nailed to a cross after being sleep-deprived and starved first, flogged to a bleeding mess, beaten, and after dying pierced in the side by a spear to such a degree that His own blood poured out. There is no more final a death than this.

  Yet was it not in that very moment that a pagan soldier declared, “Truly this man is the Son of God?” Here we see the promise fulfilled in perhaps the most unlikely person. And now, for those who accepted that Christ was the Son of God, they would know for absolute certainty that He was also completely a man. He not only died, which any deity of Greece or Rome could have feigned, but He suffered and agonized and, unlike any of the proud pagan pantheon, He suffered to be condemned when innocent, accepting an unjust death. We cannot end here, however, because even those who believed Christ to be divine now have seen the immortal die before their eyes; in proving His humanity, Christ seems to disprove His divinity.

  He promised that when the Son of Man was lifted up, His divinity would be known. Not only did He mean His death on the Cross, but also His resurrection. Remember He also promised, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” Who else but God could raise Himself from the dead? Certainly prophets have raised others, and Christ raised Lazarus, but who could raise themselves? Only God.

  The cross tells us the whole story of Christ in one moment: His death proves His complete humanity; His rising proves His complete divinity. That is why the Cross is the symbol of our faith; that is why we keep Him on the cross. We know, of course, that He is risen; why would we continue to look upon such a sight if it were otherwise? We look at that cross and remember His death and also His resurrection.

  At that table on the way to Emmaus, notice that they did not recognize Him until the breaking of the bread. It was not until the Body of Christ was broken, until His Blood was poured out, that they recognized Jesus Christ, who is both Jesus of Nazareth and Emmanuel Messiah, the Son of the Most High. They saw in that moment their friend and companion, their Lord and their God. Remember this, today and at every Mass, that it is not until the priest holds the broken Host above the Chalice do we hear declared, “This is the Lamb of God, this is He who takes away the sins of the world.” In that moment is the Son of Man lifted up; in that moment do we really recognize Him.

  • 8:35 pm
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