You know there are times when I just get cravings for pizza…

or for a good old-fashioned finger-bun––

you know… 

the sort that has lots of sultanas in it and icing with coconut in it.

I usually get those sorts of cravings when I’m feeling stressed;

when I’m sad and melancholic…

or moody and fragile;

when things haven’t gone right or I have had a bad day;

when my self-esteem has taken a beating…

because I have done something wrong…

made a mistake…

or haven’t lived up to my own expectations and my own image of myself;

when my hopes and dreams lie in tatters around my feet.

I may not always know why I’m feeling like that––

certainly not at the time––

all I know is that I have a craving for a pizza or a finger bun.

It’s often a subconscious, even instinctive reaction.

And, to be honest, I’m not really sure why I crave those particular foods.

In some way, it probably stems from my early years.

When I was young, I probably had those things as treats–– 

on very special occasions.

So, as a result, I associate them with happy times and feeling good.

Even now, eating them somehow makes me feel a little brighter…

a little more able to cope.

So, since the ‘lockdown’, Sunday nights have been pizza night.

But you know… 

when I’m feeling like that, I also get a craving to go shopping––

to spend some money and to buy something for me––

a nice bottle of wine, a new shirt, or a new kitchen gadget…

even if it’s something that I may never end up wearing or using.

In a way, it doesn’t really matter;

because there’s something almost therapeutic in just doing it:

getting out of the house…

having a change of scene…

getting away from life and its problems…

doing something for me.

And online shopping just isn’t the same!

How do you cope when things go wrong:

when life delivers one of its hard knocks;

when you have had a bad day;

when you’re feeling sad, inadequate or fragile;

when your hopes and dreams have been crushed?

 

At those times, some of us may need a little space…

some time to ourselves…

some time to stop and think––

in order to try to make some sense of it all.

Some of us may need to go to a special place––

a favourite café…

a church…

a beach…

or a hilltop––

a place where we can get away from life;

a place that’s peaceful, re-creating, safe.

And sometimes that “place” isn’t physical––

it might be a particular image or dream to which we retreat;

or even a particular piece of music.

For some of us, that place may be an inner world to which we retreat––

even a make-believe world…

where we can pretend that if we can’t see the problem, then it doesn’t exist…

like an ostrich burying its head in the sand.

For some of us, that place may be a memory to which we retreat––

a memory of good times;

a particular moment of joy and happiness…

when everything seemed right with the world.

 

The two disciples in our story from Luke’s Gospel were seeking such a place.

They were dejected and disillusioned.

For them, Jesus’ death had been an abject tragedy.

Despite all of the warning signs, they hadn’t seen it coming––

or didn’t want to.

They had come to believe that he was the One––

the One who would put everything right.

They had begun to expect great things.

They had come to hope and to dream.

But now, all of those hopes and dreams lay in tatters.

So, it’s no wonder that they were feeling so dejected and disillusioned.

And these two had left the rest of the disciples behind.

They had also left Jerusalem behind––

with all of its painful memories;

they had left it all behind and gone for a walk––

seeking some space, some distance…

in an effort to make sense of what had happened.

So, they headed for Emmaus––

a place where they could get away from it all…

a place where they could think.

 

But as they walk and talk… 

I get the sense that they’re not making much progress.

They’re just turning things over and over again.

Because that’s what we usually do under such circumstances.

When we’re feeling dejected, and disillusioned, we tend to focus on the particular––

particular images that haunt our minds;

particular thoughts that keep churning in our heads.

We turn things over and over again––

blowing things out of proportion;

struggling to bring some order to the confusion and mess;

struggling to connect the pieces;

struggling to make sense of the experience.

Often, that’s because we lose a sense of the “big picture”;

because we’re not able to put it all into a broader context…

and we can’t begin to move on.

 

But then, in our story, the risen Christ meets these two disciples…

and he invites them to tell their story.

That, in itself, can be helpful.

But Christ also begins the process of re-framing their experience––

placing what had happened into a broader context;

connecting them to a bigger picture—

to their history…

and to God’s actions in the world.

Because, when we’re feeling dejected and disillusioned, it’s easy to focus on ourselves…

to think that my experience is unique––

that no one else has been through this…

that no one could possibly understand––

and it’s easy to lose perspective.

Narratively- and theologically-speaking…

the presence of the crucified and risen Christ with them is important.

In a way, it’s suggesting that God knows what it’s like to experience sadness…

disillusionment…

abandonment…

rejection…

pain…

grief…

and loss.

And it’s a reminder that God is able to transform those experiences––

to restore hope and to bring new life.

 

But there are two other significant things to note in this story.

First, the two dejected disciples invite this stranger in.

They offer hospitality.

If, in our pain, we turn in on ourselves…

then, perhaps, healing begins by looking outward;

by turning to others;

by focusing on their needs.

Second, they experience Christ in the breaking of the bread.

Reconnecting with life––

putting things into perspective and finding healing and wholeness–– 

often requires a symbolic act…

a ritual act…

an act by which we let go of the past and embrace the future…

an act in which we remember and move on.

 

So, this story has been crafted by the author to remind us…

that the risen Christ can meet us on our road to Emmaus––

wherever that might be…

and under whatever circumstances;

that the risen Christ can meet us whenever we’re feeling dejected and disillusioned…

struggling to understand and cope;

that the risen Christ can meet us wherever we are on our journey…

enabling us to put our experiences into perspective…

reminding us of God’s power to transform…

inviting us let go of the past… 

to embrace the future…

and to take hold of new life.

And this story reminds us that that can happen whenever…

symbolically…

we take the risk of letting somebody else in…

and allowing them to break bread for us.