Third Sunday of Easter

While he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.

The disciples urged him: stay with us, for it is nearly evening. They did not know who he was yet, but something in them recognized that this stranger needed to be at their table. The hospitality came before the recognition. They set the table for someone whose identity they did not fully understand, and the breaking of the bread is what opened their eyes.

Sister, you have set tables for people whose needs you did not fully understand. You have offered hospitality before you had the full picture. You have said "stay with us" to the child who needed one more conversation before bed, to the friend who called at the wrong time, to the stranger at the parish who looked like she needed someone to notice her. The Emmaus story says that the recognition often comes after the hospitality, not before it. You set the table first. Then you discover who was sitting at it.

The hearts of the Emmaus disciples burned within them while Jesus opened the Scriptures on the road. The burning came before the understanding. If your heart has burned this Easter season - if something has stirred in you that you cannot fully name - do not dismiss it. That burning is the Risen Christ walking beside you on the road, opening the word in ways your mind has not caught up with yet. Your heart knows things your understanding does not. Trust the burn.

Peter writes that you were ransomed not with silver or gold but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a spotless unblemished lamb. The price paid for your redemption was not currency. It was a life offered. The woman who offers her own life daily - in service, in prayer, in the endless giving that sustains a household, a parish, a community - is echoing the offering of the Lamb. The difference is that the Lamb's offering was freely given, and yours should be too. If the offering has become extraction rather than gift, the Emmaus table is the place to bring that question. Stay with us, Lord. It is nearly evening. Show us again what freely given looks like.

Set the table for someone unexpected this week. Invite the friend who has been distant. Open the door to the person your instinct says "stay with us" about. The recognition may come after the hospitality. You do not need to know in advance who Christ will reveal himself to be in the encounter. You just need to set the table and break the bread.

Lord, I have set tables my whole life without always knowing who was sitting at them. Today I hear the Emmaus story as my story: the hospitality comes first, and the recognition follows. My heart has been burning. I trust the burn. Stay with me. It is nearly evening. Open my eyes in the breaking of the bread. Alleluia. Amen.