Cambridge, 2019
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Bob Dylan - I Contain Multitudes.
Saturday, 18 April 2020
Thought for the Week: Looking Up
Here's my Thought for the Week written for the newsletter of St Martin-in-the-Fields:
The sculptor Helaine Blumenfeld has a major exhibition at Canary Wharf that opened shortly before lockdown.
When I interviewed Helaine, as part of an exhibition review for Church Times, I expected major disappointment, yet she has taken the setback in her stride.
This is, in part, because lockdown demonstrates the timeliness of the exhibition. Over recent months she has felt increasingly concerned that society was moving towards a precipice caused by isolation, lack of empathy, the breakdown in trust, and absence of leadership. Many of the works in the show depict broken edges, reflecting this.
But the show is both warning and antidote, as the majority of pieces show connection and relationship. That is how we can come out of this, she thinks; through community, spiritual values, and acknowledgement that we are all human. We will have to learn to look at the world in a different way. By looking up – the title of the exhibition - we can see a spiritual dimension.
This is, she says, an incredibly important time when we will either learn to empathise, cooperate and connect or we will have failed the challenge in front of us. Through her words and her works, she is picturing resurrection for us.
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Victoria Williams - Why Look At The Moon.
The sculptor Helaine Blumenfeld has a major exhibition at Canary Wharf that opened shortly before lockdown.
When I interviewed Helaine, as part of an exhibition review for Church Times, I expected major disappointment, yet she has taken the setback in her stride.
This is, in part, because lockdown demonstrates the timeliness of the exhibition. Over recent months she has felt increasingly concerned that society was moving towards a precipice caused by isolation, lack of empathy, the breakdown in trust, and absence of leadership. Many of the works in the show depict broken edges, reflecting this.
But the show is both warning and antidote, as the majority of pieces show connection and relationship. That is how we can come out of this, she thinks; through community, spiritual values, and acknowledgement that we are all human. We will have to learn to look at the world in a different way. By looking up – the title of the exhibition - we can see a spiritual dimension.
This is, she says, an incredibly important time when we will either learn to empathise, cooperate and connect or we will have failed the challenge in front of us. Through her words and her works, she is picturing resurrection for us.
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Victoria Williams - Why Look At The Moon.
Andy Warhol: Catholicism, Work, Faith And Legacy
My latest piece for ArtWay was originally published by Artlyst and is about Andy Warhol and the Catholic faith as explored in exhibitions at the Andy Warhol Museum, Tate Modern and the National Gallery:
'As Eugene McCarraher has explained, in The Enchantments of Mammon, ‘Warhol incorporated the formal aspects of Byzantine iconography into Pop Art.’ His ‘Campbell’s Soup cans and Coca-Cola bottles – mass-produced objects with no personal signature – recalled the anonymity and deliberate repetitiveness of Byzantine iconographers.’ ‘Warhol explained, “Pop Art is a way of liking things,” a celebration of those “great modern things” that comprise the humble matter of everyday life – a realm where, in Orthodox tradition, the divine always manifests itself sacramentally.’
The critics at the time failed to understand this aspect of Warhol’s work but it was clearly apparent to Sister Corita Kent on a visit in 1962 to the Ferus Gallery in LA to see Warhol’s breakthrough exhibition of Campbell’s Soup Cans. ‘Coming home,’ she said, ‘you saw everything like Andy Warhol.’ Kent found inspiration in signs and advertising for vibrant screen printed banners and posters that provided an opportunity to show the sacred in the most mundane.'
My visual meditations for ArtWay include work by María Inés Aguirre, Giampaolo Babetto, Marian Bohusz-Szyszko, Alexander de Cadenet, Christopher Clack, Marlene Dumas, Terry Ffyffe, Antoni Gaudi, Nicola Green, Maciej Hoffman, Giacomo Manzù, Michael Pendry, Maurice Novarina, Regan O'Callaghan, Ana Maria Pacheco, John Piper, Albert Servaes, Henry Shelton and Anna Sikorska.
My Church of the Month reports include: Aylesford Priory, Canterbury Cathedral, Chapel of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face, Hem, Chelmsford Cathedral, Churches in Little Walsingham, Coventry Cathedral, Église de Saint-Paul à Grange-Canal, Eton College Chapel, Lumen, Metz Cathedral, Notre Dame du Léman, Notre-Dame de Toute Grâce, Plateau d’Assy,Romont, Sint Martinuskerk Latem, St Aidan of Lindisfarne, St Alban Romford, St. Andrew Bobola Polish RC Church, St. Margaret’s Church, Ditchling, and Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft, St Mary the Virgin, Downe, and St Paul Goodmayes, as well as earlier reports of visits to sites associated with Marian Bohusz-Szyszko, Marc Chagall, Jean Cocteau, Antoni Gaudi and Henri Matisse.
Other of writings for ArtWay can be found here. My pieces for Church Times can be found here. Those for Artlyst are here and those for Art+Christianity are here.
'As Eugene McCarraher has explained, in The Enchantments of Mammon, ‘Warhol incorporated the formal aspects of Byzantine iconography into Pop Art.’ His ‘Campbell’s Soup cans and Coca-Cola bottles – mass-produced objects with no personal signature – recalled the anonymity and deliberate repetitiveness of Byzantine iconographers.’ ‘Warhol explained, “Pop Art is a way of liking things,” a celebration of those “great modern things” that comprise the humble matter of everyday life – a realm where, in Orthodox tradition, the divine always manifests itself sacramentally.’
The critics at the time failed to understand this aspect of Warhol’s work but it was clearly apparent to Sister Corita Kent on a visit in 1962 to the Ferus Gallery in LA to see Warhol’s breakthrough exhibition of Campbell’s Soup Cans. ‘Coming home,’ she said, ‘you saw everything like Andy Warhol.’ Kent found inspiration in signs and advertising for vibrant screen printed banners and posters that provided an opportunity to show the sacred in the most mundane.'
My visual meditations for ArtWay include work by María Inés Aguirre, Giampaolo Babetto, Marian Bohusz-Szyszko, Alexander de Cadenet, Christopher Clack, Marlene Dumas, Terry Ffyffe, Antoni Gaudi, Nicola Green, Maciej Hoffman, Giacomo Manzù, Michael Pendry, Maurice Novarina, Regan O'Callaghan, Ana Maria Pacheco, John Piper, Albert Servaes, Henry Shelton and Anna Sikorska.
My Church of the Month reports include: Aylesford Priory, Canterbury Cathedral, Chapel of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face, Hem, Chelmsford Cathedral, Churches in Little Walsingham, Coventry Cathedral, Église de Saint-Paul à Grange-Canal, Eton College Chapel, Lumen, Metz Cathedral, Notre Dame du Léman, Notre-Dame de Toute Grâce, Plateau d’Assy,Romont, Sint Martinuskerk Latem, St Aidan of Lindisfarne, St Alban Romford, St. Andrew Bobola Polish RC Church, St. Margaret’s Church, Ditchling, and Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft, St Mary the Virgin, Downe, and St Paul Goodmayes, as well as earlier reports of visits to sites associated with Marian Bohusz-Szyszko, Marc Chagall, Jean Cocteau, Antoni Gaudi and Henri Matisse.
Other of writings for ArtWay can be found here. My pieces for Church Times can be found here. Those for Artlyst are here and those for Art+Christianity are here.
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The Velvet Underground - Jesus.
Friday, 17 April 2020
HeartEdge: Growing Community Online
This online workshop generated lots of discussion and debate among those watching on the HeartEdge facebook page as Sally, Adrian and Lorenzo shared examples and ideas about livestreaming services, congregation facebook pages, companion groups and more. There was lots of discussion about the numbers watching services, whether large or small, and what viewing figures on facebook and other platforms were actually recording.
People watching said that their online worship is connecting them with people who just aren't able to get to church - housebound and others - and has proved a boon to such people enabling them to feel more part of the community. One person commented, 'I'm ashamed to say that until now we've not provided for them on a Sunday morning.'
There were lots of practical ideas such as using the comments for people to make their prayer requests and to share the peace. Others mentioned use of WhatsApp groups and other things outside worship - thought for the day, baking, film club, parish quiz night etc. There was a recognition that some members of the congregation are really relying on what is being offered in order to get through lockdown.
The workshop can be viewed online here.
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The Beatles - Come Together.
Thursday, 16 April 2020
God of the visible and the invisible
Here are intercessions that I wrote for today's Eucharist at St Martin-in-the-Fields:
God of the visible and the invisible, God of the incarnate Christ and the ascended Christ, God of the Son who lived and died in 1st century Palestine and God of the Spirit that blows where it chooses in every time and culture, we come before you today acknowledging all your different guises and ways of being. We cannot fully understand you, we cannot constrain you, and yet we can know you, love you, and know your love and life in us. In awe and wonder at your diversity and variety, we ask that we might encounter you in as many ways as we can bear and, especially, within the challenges and changes brought by Covid-19. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
God of presence and absence, we ask that in this time of physical distancing we may learn from the insights of those that have sought isolation in order to pray allowing our cells to teach us everything, as the city truly becomes our monastery. We ask, too, that, although physically separate, we will not neglect to meet together but encourage one another, and all the more as we face together the challenges of this day and time. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
God of affirmation and negation, we ask that, in this time of loss, we will discover what is truly central to our lives and loves, praying for all who have lost loved ones that the memories of all that was shared will come to outweigh the sudden bleakness of loss. In our loss of liberty and movement, may we see afresh and affirm all that we had overlooked and ignored in the haste and hurry of our previous lives; the beauty of birdsong, the clearness of air and sky, the peace and rest encountered in the still and the slow. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
God of touch and distance, we pray that we may understand our social distancing as an act of love to protect others from danger and maintain this discipline until no longer necessary. We pray for those whose touching of others is essential for the saving of life – all medics, paramedics, care workers and all in other emergency services – praying that they might be given the PPE and testing needed for their own protection. We pray, too, for those who are the recipients of their care praying for many that care will enable recovery. We pray, too, that our physical distancing at this time may become a spur to acts of greater love, support and service towards others, in ways that, while virtual, are nevertheless full of care, concern and meaning. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
God of sight and insight, we pray for those we only see virtually giving thanks for the technology that enables us to see others without their being physically present and for those that invented, maintain and develop that technology. We give thanks too for all who have preceded us in using this technology well – often those who have been on the edge of society and church – praying that we will learn from their experiences and value all they have to share. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
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The Innocence Mission - St Francis And The Future.
God of the visible and the invisible, God of the incarnate Christ and the ascended Christ, God of the Son who lived and died in 1st century Palestine and God of the Spirit that blows where it chooses in every time and culture, we come before you today acknowledging all your different guises and ways of being. We cannot fully understand you, we cannot constrain you, and yet we can know you, love you, and know your love and life in us. In awe and wonder at your diversity and variety, we ask that we might encounter you in as many ways as we can bear and, especially, within the challenges and changes brought by Covid-19. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
God of presence and absence, we ask that in this time of physical distancing we may learn from the insights of those that have sought isolation in order to pray allowing our cells to teach us everything, as the city truly becomes our monastery. We ask, too, that, although physically separate, we will not neglect to meet together but encourage one another, and all the more as we face together the challenges of this day and time. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
God of affirmation and negation, we ask that, in this time of loss, we will discover what is truly central to our lives and loves, praying for all who have lost loved ones that the memories of all that was shared will come to outweigh the sudden bleakness of loss. In our loss of liberty and movement, may we see afresh and affirm all that we had overlooked and ignored in the haste and hurry of our previous lives; the beauty of birdsong, the clearness of air and sky, the peace and rest encountered in the still and the slow. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
God of touch and distance, we pray that we may understand our social distancing as an act of love to protect others from danger and maintain this discipline until no longer necessary. We pray for those whose touching of others is essential for the saving of life – all medics, paramedics, care workers and all in other emergency services – praying that they might be given the PPE and testing needed for their own protection. We pray, too, for those who are the recipients of their care praying for many that care will enable recovery. We pray, too, that our physical distancing at this time may become a spur to acts of greater love, support and service towards others, in ways that, while virtual, are nevertheless full of care, concern and meaning. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
God of sight and insight, we pray for those we only see virtually giving thanks for the technology that enables us to see others without their being physically present and for those that invented, maintain and develop that technology. We give thanks too for all who have preceded us in using this technology well – often those who have been on the edge of society and church – praying that we will learn from their experiences and value all they have to share. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
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The Innocence Mission - St Francis And The Future.
We are those who do not touch and yet are blessed in not so doing
Here's the reflection I shared today in the Eucharist at St Martin-in-the-Fields:
Christianity is a touchy-feely faith. That is because of the incarnation, in which God became flesh and blood and moved into our neighbourhood. Touch was a key part of Jesus’ work as a carpenter, just as it was, too, of his healing ministry. Jesus was himself touched by the woman who was healed of a flow of blood and touched, as brutally as one can be touched, when he was arrested, tortured and crucified.
Touch is a key part of his life prior to his resurrection and here (Luke 24: 35-48) we read of his saying to his disciples, ‘Touch me and see.’ He did the same for Thomas, who had said unless I touch I will not believe, but, in this same period, he also said to Mary, ‘Touch me not’ and used his encounter with Thomas to bless those who believe without touching or seeing. In the story of the encounter on the Emmaus Road, as soon as he was recognised, and before his disciples could touch him, he disappeared from their presence. In the resurrection stories we read often of his suddenly appearing to and then disappearing from his disciples.
The visible Christ was shortly to become, following his Ascension, the invisible Christ. Those who believe in him, after the disciples, would be those who believe without touching or seeing him. Just as he prepared his disciples for his crucifixion, although they struggled to understand, so, in this period, he was preparing his disciples, who again struggled to understand, for his Ascension and a life in which they could not touch and see him physically.
This mirrors our experience in this time of lockdown. We have gone, almost overnight, from an experience of daily life in which shaking hands, hugging and kissing were all ordinary, everyday, acceptable forms of face-to-face, in-person encounter to a world in which we are isolated one from the other, only able to see each other virtually and where touch is the most dangerous action for one and all. We are like the disciples in suddenly transitioning from communing with the visible Christ to communing with the invisible Christ.
One thing is clear, though, from the Emmaus story and from the wider experience of the disciples: as the visible Christ became the invisible Christ, he was no less present to them. The invisible took shape in the disciples, as it does in us, the death and resurrection of Christ becoming the DNA of the Christian; by this shall everyone know that you are my disciples. It is what is called grace, the God-shaping of us by the invisible divine goodness.
I would suggest, therefore, that our experience of virtual church is similar; in that it is different but no less valid. There is much that we have lost, but also much that we have gained. We are separated one from the other and we are physically isolated, but, in many respects we are more in touch with one another than we were previously and are, for many of us, able to be part of more at St Martin’s than was previously the case. The nature of our experience and gathering has changed but its meaning and value have not. We continue to support and shape one another as we did previously, but have found different ways in which to do so.
That was the experience of the disciples after Christ’s Ascension but it has also been the experience of the Church at other times and in other places. The Stations of the Cross, that we experienced so powerfully in a virtual presentation on Good Friday, are an example; being devised by St Francis of Assisi for all who could not physically walk the Way of the Cross in Jerusalem.
The disciples needed to touch and see Jesus in order to be witnesses to the reality of his resurrection. We do not need to touch and see in order to believe and Jesus, himself, tells us that we are blessed as a result. Our experience of the invisible Jesus, our relationship with him, is different from that of the disciples with the visible Jesus, able to touch and see, but is no less valid, no less deep, no less life-changing for that difference. Our experience as the body of Christ at St Martin-in-the-Fields is different from what it was when we could touch and see each other and our building, but is no less valid, no less deep, no less life-changing for that difference. We are those who do not touch and yet are blessed in not so doing. Amen.
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Deacon Blue - Keeping My Faith Alive.
Christianity is a touchy-feely faith. That is because of the incarnation, in which God became flesh and blood and moved into our neighbourhood. Touch was a key part of Jesus’ work as a carpenter, just as it was, too, of his healing ministry. Jesus was himself touched by the woman who was healed of a flow of blood and touched, as brutally as one can be touched, when he was arrested, tortured and crucified.
Touch is a key part of his life prior to his resurrection and here (Luke 24: 35-48) we read of his saying to his disciples, ‘Touch me and see.’ He did the same for Thomas, who had said unless I touch I will not believe, but, in this same period, he also said to Mary, ‘Touch me not’ and used his encounter with Thomas to bless those who believe without touching or seeing. In the story of the encounter on the Emmaus Road, as soon as he was recognised, and before his disciples could touch him, he disappeared from their presence. In the resurrection stories we read often of his suddenly appearing to and then disappearing from his disciples.
The visible Christ was shortly to become, following his Ascension, the invisible Christ. Those who believe in him, after the disciples, would be those who believe without touching or seeing him. Just as he prepared his disciples for his crucifixion, although they struggled to understand, so, in this period, he was preparing his disciples, who again struggled to understand, for his Ascension and a life in which they could not touch and see him physically.
This mirrors our experience in this time of lockdown. We have gone, almost overnight, from an experience of daily life in which shaking hands, hugging and kissing were all ordinary, everyday, acceptable forms of face-to-face, in-person encounter to a world in which we are isolated one from the other, only able to see each other virtually and where touch is the most dangerous action for one and all. We are like the disciples in suddenly transitioning from communing with the visible Christ to communing with the invisible Christ.
One thing is clear, though, from the Emmaus story and from the wider experience of the disciples: as the visible Christ became the invisible Christ, he was no less present to them. The invisible took shape in the disciples, as it does in us, the death and resurrection of Christ becoming the DNA of the Christian; by this shall everyone know that you are my disciples. It is what is called grace, the God-shaping of us by the invisible divine goodness.
I would suggest, therefore, that our experience of virtual church is similar; in that it is different but no less valid. There is much that we have lost, but also much that we have gained. We are separated one from the other and we are physically isolated, but, in many respects we are more in touch with one another than we were previously and are, for many of us, able to be part of more at St Martin’s than was previously the case. The nature of our experience and gathering has changed but its meaning and value have not. We continue to support and shape one another as we did previously, but have found different ways in which to do so.
That was the experience of the disciples after Christ’s Ascension but it has also been the experience of the Church at other times and in other places. The Stations of the Cross, that we experienced so powerfully in a virtual presentation on Good Friday, are an example; being devised by St Francis of Assisi for all who could not physically walk the Way of the Cross in Jerusalem.
The disciples needed to touch and see Jesus in order to be witnesses to the reality of his resurrection. We do not need to touch and see in order to believe and Jesus, himself, tells us that we are blessed as a result. Our experience of the invisible Jesus, our relationship with him, is different from that of the disciples with the visible Jesus, able to touch and see, but is no less valid, no less deep, no less life-changing for that difference. Our experience as the body of Christ at St Martin-in-the-Fields is different from what it was when we could touch and see each other and our building, but is no less valid, no less deep, no less life-changing for that difference. We are those who do not touch and yet are blessed in not so doing. Amen.
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Deacon Blue - Keeping My Faith Alive.
Wednesday, 15 April 2020
Followers of the Way
Here's the reflection I shared in today's lunchtime Eucharist for St Martin-in-the-Fields:
‘When this story (Luke 24. 13 – 35) begins, two people are walking along a road, a stranger meets them, he claims he has no knowledge of Jesus’ death, and as they expose their grief this apparent stranger unfurls his insights into scripture and tradition. They persuade him to stay, wanting to prolong the encounter and wanting to welcome him. The food is prepared. The two hosts welcome their guest. And the guest blesses, makes himself known as Host, and disappears leaving them to tell their friends the good news of their encounter.’ (Ayla Lepine - 'Inspired to Follow')
The Emmaus Road story breaks open ways in which we may encounter God.
When Jesus encountered the two disciples on the Emmaus Road on the evening of the first Easter day he met them where they were. Jesus’ incarnation and ministry, above all else, was ‘about being with us, in pain and glory, in sorrow and in joy, in quiet and in conflict, in death and in life.’ Now, he came to be with these two disciples. Coming to be with them meant that he joined them on their journey although they were going in the wrong direction, in other words away from Jerusalem. He didn’t berate, however, or try to re-direct them. He simply joined them and walked with them. All who are beginning to explore the Christian faith are travellers because they are on the way. They may not yet be coming to church, but are committed to taking the next step. One of the earliest names for the people called Christians was followers of the Way, so, ‘right at the beginning of the journey, people need to experience what it means to be part of a pilgrim church.’ ‘Before people can become pilgrims themselves they need to feel happy to travel with us and be open to experiencing life from a Christian perspective.’ (Stephen Cottrell)
Jesus also joins in with their conversation, listening to them first before he speaks. Similarly, our welcome of others must involve an attitude which seeks to get inside the shoes of the other person so that they can be welcomed and accompanied at every point of their journey. Jesus’ first question to the disciples was then one of open vulnerability to their agenda: ‘What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?’ Our practice of offering wonderings to others in response to hearing their experiences is similar. In response to their questions and accounts of what has happened he then breaks open the scriptures, explaining to them ‘the things about himself.’ By this stage Jesus had created a helpful context in which to explore faith. We, too, need to create safe places, where people are at ease, where they can bring their questions, and where they will feel challenged, but not pressured; a space that enables people to question and discover for themselves the significance of Jesus Christ.
Arriving at Emmaus, they invited him in, and as he broke bread their eyes were opened. ‘When he was at the 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 he vanished from their sight.’’ They had not seen: suddenly they did see. A gesture – a reminder of what Christ did at the Last Supper – has alerted them to his identity. As the etymology of the word suggests, recognition involves an awareness which harks back to something previous. It is a re-knowing of something which therefore requires a pre-knowing. It involves a kind of memory. At Emmaus, their memory is of the Last Supper.’ For us, ‘Our memory of God’ is that ‘bit of human nature which seeks to be in right relation to God, and which means that we can be redeemed.’ (Chloe Reddaway - 'Inspired to Follow')
‘The disciples saw Jesus’ scars as he broke the bread. They remembered his story and realized it was their story. They discerned his body as it became their body. They left the table with hearts on fire. They who before had stood alone were united with the believers. They looked forward to every future meal as a moment of encounter with the risen Christ. They had become what they had eaten, the body of Christ.’ (Sam Wells)
So, at the centre of the Emmaus story is a very simple and ordinary action; breaking bread. Although a simple and ordinary thing to do, it becomes a very important act when Jesus does it because that is the moment of recognition and realisation. Something very simple and ordinary suddenly becomes full of meaning and significance. Their experience was an epiphany, a moment to which our being with, travelling with, and discussion with will often lead. ‘Following Christ’s sudden departure, as a new quality of knowledge fills the room where moments before he broke the bread, the two people who’d been on the road confer and ask each other in bewilderment: ‘Did our hearts not burn within us?’ God invites light into the darkest of corners.’ (Ayla Lepine) A space had been created which enabled these people to question and then discover for themselves the significance of Jesus Christ. They then rushed back to Jerusalem as they couldn’t wait to share with others the good news they have received.
Luke’s account provides us with a rich and challenging story about exploring faith which is hugely relevant for the situation we face today because: ‘our own culture here in … London is not so dis-similar to the ones the first apostles encountered outside the comfort zone of the Jewish faith: a smorgasbord of beliefs, a general interest in things spiritual, a lack of confidence in the meta-narratives that had previously been trusted so much. In this sort of world becoming a Christian will be like a journey, and much of our work will be helping people to make the journey; and much of that will be removing obstacles from the path.’ (Stephen Cottrell)
This story reveals ways to help others experience what it means to be part of a pilgrim church so that right at the beginning of their journey people feel happy to travel with us and are open to experiencing life from a Christian perspective.
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The Call - What's Happened To You?
‘When this story (Luke 24. 13 – 35) begins, two people are walking along a road, a stranger meets them, he claims he has no knowledge of Jesus’ death, and as they expose their grief this apparent stranger unfurls his insights into scripture and tradition. They persuade him to stay, wanting to prolong the encounter and wanting to welcome him. The food is prepared. The two hosts welcome their guest. And the guest blesses, makes himself known as Host, and disappears leaving them to tell their friends the good news of their encounter.’ (Ayla Lepine - 'Inspired to Follow')
The Emmaus Road story breaks open ways in which we may encounter God.
When Jesus encountered the two disciples on the Emmaus Road on the evening of the first Easter day he met them where they were. Jesus’ incarnation and ministry, above all else, was ‘about being with us, in pain and glory, in sorrow and in joy, in quiet and in conflict, in death and in life.’ Now, he came to be with these two disciples. Coming to be with them meant that he joined them on their journey although they were going in the wrong direction, in other words away from Jerusalem. He didn’t berate, however, or try to re-direct them. He simply joined them and walked with them. All who are beginning to explore the Christian faith are travellers because they are on the way. They may not yet be coming to church, but are committed to taking the next step. One of the earliest names for the people called Christians was followers of the Way, so, ‘right at the beginning of the journey, people need to experience what it means to be part of a pilgrim church.’ ‘Before people can become pilgrims themselves they need to feel happy to travel with us and be open to experiencing life from a Christian perspective.’ (Stephen Cottrell)
Jesus also joins in with their conversation, listening to them first before he speaks. Similarly, our welcome of others must involve an attitude which seeks to get inside the shoes of the other person so that they can be welcomed and accompanied at every point of their journey. Jesus’ first question to the disciples was then one of open vulnerability to their agenda: ‘What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?’ Our practice of offering wonderings to others in response to hearing their experiences is similar. In response to their questions and accounts of what has happened he then breaks open the scriptures, explaining to them ‘the things about himself.’ By this stage Jesus had created a helpful context in which to explore faith. We, too, need to create safe places, where people are at ease, where they can bring their questions, and where they will feel challenged, but not pressured; a space that enables people to question and discover for themselves the significance of Jesus Christ.
Arriving at Emmaus, they invited him in, and as he broke bread their eyes were opened. ‘When he was at the 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 he vanished from their sight.’’ They had not seen: suddenly they did see. A gesture – a reminder of what Christ did at the Last Supper – has alerted them to his identity. As the etymology of the word suggests, recognition involves an awareness which harks back to something previous. It is a re-knowing of something which therefore requires a pre-knowing. It involves a kind of memory. At Emmaus, their memory is of the Last Supper.’ For us, ‘Our memory of God’ is that ‘bit of human nature which seeks to be in right relation to God, and which means that we can be redeemed.’ (Chloe Reddaway - 'Inspired to Follow')
‘The disciples saw Jesus’ scars as he broke the bread. They remembered his story and realized it was their story. They discerned his body as it became their body. They left the table with hearts on fire. They who before had stood alone were united with the believers. They looked forward to every future meal as a moment of encounter with the risen Christ. They had become what they had eaten, the body of Christ.’ (Sam Wells)
So, at the centre of the Emmaus story is a very simple and ordinary action; breaking bread. Although a simple and ordinary thing to do, it becomes a very important act when Jesus does it because that is the moment of recognition and realisation. Something very simple and ordinary suddenly becomes full of meaning and significance. Their experience was an epiphany, a moment to which our being with, travelling with, and discussion with will often lead. ‘Following Christ’s sudden departure, as a new quality of knowledge fills the room where moments before he broke the bread, the two people who’d been on the road confer and ask each other in bewilderment: ‘Did our hearts not burn within us?’ God invites light into the darkest of corners.’ (Ayla Lepine) A space had been created which enabled these people to question and then discover for themselves the significance of Jesus Christ. They then rushed back to Jerusalem as they couldn’t wait to share with others the good news they have received.
Luke’s account provides us with a rich and challenging story about exploring faith which is hugely relevant for the situation we face today because: ‘our own culture here in … London is not so dis-similar to the ones the first apostles encountered outside the comfort zone of the Jewish faith: a smorgasbord of beliefs, a general interest in things spiritual, a lack of confidence in the meta-narratives that had previously been trusted so much. In this sort of world becoming a Christian will be like a journey, and much of our work will be helping people to make the journey; and much of that will be removing obstacles from the path.’ (Stephen Cottrell)
This story reveals ways to help others experience what it means to be part of a pilgrim church so that right at the beginning of their journey people feel happy to travel with us and are open to experiencing life from a Christian perspective.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Call - What's Happened To You?
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