They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread. (Luke 24)
Outside our patio doors on 104th Ave it’s snowing great wet flakes. An old man with a bulging back-pack walks by, followed by a young women walking a sand-coloured spaniel. All three, man, woman and dog look around with expressions of mild incredulity. (What? You’ve never seen a spaniel look incredulous?) And I’m thinking, well, if they find snow in April hard to believe they’re never going to believe the thing that happened all those Easter’s ago.
Outside our patio doors on 104th Ave it’s snowing great wet flakes. An old man with a bulging back-pack walks by, followed by a young women walking a sand-coloured spaniel. All three, man, woman and dog look around with expressions of mild incredulity. (What? You’ve never seen a spaniel look incredulous?) And I’m thinking, well, if they find snow in April hard to believe they’re never going to believe the thing that happened all those Easter’s ago.
Jesus has risen!
I think this belief, that I now hold onto both tenaciously and effortlessly, seeped in as I watched my mother prepare and serve a thousand evening meals. It’s taken me all these years to see the connection between the Lord’s table and her’s.
Our faith’s central practise is the Eucharist–a table gathering. We are a community gathered around the Eucharist. It’s in the breaking of bread where we come to know Jesus and are made known to one another.
Christ is met in the breaking of bread, in the small acts of kindness, the small gifts of human reception. Christ’s resurrection is published in a smile of acceptance.
Jesus has risen indeed!
