Recognizing Jesus

I headed out to the grocery store last week. I covered my face and made my way toward the entrance to take a distanced stance in line behind 40 other masked shoppers, all of who seemed forlorn at the prospect of the daunting errand on a hopelessly gray day. I swept my eyes around the properly-spaced queue but didn’t recognize another despondent soul. The Wegman’s crowd moved forward efficiently, and it wasn’t long before a serious attendant squirted cleaning solution on the next available cart. I snapped it up and began the chores of hunting and gathering. No one greeted anyone. No one waved or chatted or grooved to the overhead music. Come to think of it, there  wasn’t any overhead music. As soon as I had filled my cart, I made my way to the check-out line that extended halfway into a canned goods aisle. The whole experience was so somber that I nearly burst into tears.

Progressing nearer to the cash register but still several places back, I glanced around the separated crowd once more. This time, a tug of recognition grabbed me. Up ahead and to the right in the next aisle stood a friend. I called out his name and he responded, “How did you recognize me behind the mask?” Now, my friend has distinctively curly blonde hair which makes it difficult for him to navigate life with anonymity. Cheerfully, I reminded him of that. We chatted back and forth with a semblance of normalcy until it was time for each of us to unload our items onto our respective conveyor belts and wave goodbye.

I cannot tell you how it brightened my spirit just to encounter this familiar human being. Immediately, I felt rejuvenated. The realization warmed my troubled heart.

Fear and grief must have been the particles tainting the air in Jerusalem on those devastating days following Jesus’ execution. Disappointment must have clung to Jesus’ followers like a contaminate altering moods and attitudes. Some tried to shake it off with a walk and a change of scenery. A couple of them set out on foot for the next village down the road—Emmaus. Maybe a hike would shift their perspective and help them shed a layer of sorrow.

They were joined by a third hiker on the trail–no one they recognized. Why didn’t they recognize him when he caught up to them and matched his stride to theirs? Why didn’t they recognize him as he listened intently while they revisited the ugly events that had transpired to bring them to this time and place and demeanor? Why didn’t they recognize him when he chided them about not recognizing him? That’s what they wondered later in the evening, after they had spent 7 miles with him, not having any idea who their companion was. Shouldn’t they have sensed it in their bones? Shouldn’t they have felt a tingle up their spines? Shouldn’t they have just known, at the core, that the fellow on the path with them was Jesus ? Huh.

The story goes (Luke 24: 13-35) that, at the end of the day when it was time to peel off the trail to locate dinner and overnight accommodations, the hikers urged their new companion to stay with them. The third fellow agreed. Eventually, the three of them found themselves settled down for supper, and when he was at table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And as soon as they did, he vanished from their sight. Did they even finish their meal before they hightailed it back to Jerusalem to spread the news? Who knows. But in recognizing Jesus, they were renewed in body, mind, and spirit. Recharged, they skedaddled!

We might wonder the same thing they asked themselves: Why did it take so long for them to recognize Jesus? The most obvious reason is that they simply had not been expecting him. As far as they knew it, he was D-E-A-D. End of story. His death was the catalyst that had cast everyone into despair in the first place. His death brought the suffocating sensation of hopelessness. His death ushered in a new era of extraordinary uncertainty.

But while the uncertainty may have been extraordinary, the resolution was so very ordinary. Jesus came to be recognized when these fellows caught a glimpse of the familiar. There Jesus was, just being Jesus. Present. Breaking bread. Simply.

Jesus is recognizable when we squint to see the familiar even as we exist under a thick layer of pandemic abnormality. Resurrection is recognizable in every glimmer of hopefulness, whether that happens on the outskirts of Emmaus or the interior of Wegman’s. Easter continues.

With Resurrection Hopefulness,

Pastor Chris