Work of Christmas Begins | Wounded Healers + Hope Dealers

"Kitchen Maid with the Supper of Emmaus" by Diego Velazquez, 1618 C.E.

Jesus' Kingdom is often the seed that grows unseen in the muck and the mire. Can we rest in a living hope as wounded healers and hope dealers who have met Jesus, the wounded Healer, and experienced His presence meeting us in the mess at His table, trusting that His light will break even into our current darkness?

"We had hoped ... " are the words uttered to Jesus on the road to Emmaus when He is unrecognized, questioned, doubted, and, in this moment, quiet (Luke 24:21). 

But from the moment of His incarnation, to his crucifixion, to His resurrection, He has been working to fulfill the work of Christ (i.e. anointed Messiah) + Mass (i.e. sent to save the world through only what He can offer) to give hope to the hopeless every step of the way.

Even in the midst of Christmastide, there have been moments where these hopes have been hassled and hurt ... 

"I had hoped ... that I would still have my job."   

"I had hoped ... that I wouldn't be stuck with my abusive partner, angry spouse, or despairing roommate." 

"I had hoped ... that the government would handle this situation differently." 

"I had hoped ... that it would be fun to be with my family, not so tense and sad."

"I had hoped ... that we wouldn't have to move again."

"I had hoped ... that this person I loved would have survived." 

"I had hoped ... there wouldn't be another natural disaster." 

"I had hoped ... that I would still be married."

"I had hoped ... I would still have faith."

All the hopes above are thoughts from stories I know exist in our city of Worcester, Massachusetts as we continue in Christmastide and get ready to step into a new year. 

And as 2023 comes to an end and 2024 is about to begin, I'm thinking again about the many reasons that God gave us the name Emmaus City Church. The "Kitchen Maid" painting above captures in visual form the essence of the potent true stories of "Emmaus" moments (including one of my favorites about Tatiana Goricheva). They are stories of real people who encountered the presence of Jesus in surprising ways, sometimes during Christmas. 

Today, I am looking again at Velasquez' "Kitchen Maid with the Supper of Emmaus," knowing I need to hear Jesus' answer to the statements, "I had hoped ... " And I look forward to how He will meet us with His presence at the tables He sets in the days ahead as we are welcomed and welcome others, continuing the work of Christmas.

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock, 

The work of Christmas begins: 

To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among others,
To make music in the heart. 

+ Howard Thurman

Bonus: Story Behind "Kitchen Maid w/ the Supper of Emmaus"

In 1618 C.E., the Spanish artist Diego Velazquez depicted the Emmaus meal in a painting called "Kitchen Maid with the Supper of Emmaus".  

Jesus and the disciples are portrayed in the top left corner. But the picture focuses all our attention on the maid. The astonished look on her face as she overhears their conversation suggests she's realized that a previously dead man has just eaten her food. The meal is hinted at, but it's all washed and tidied away. The central item is a piece of rag. The new world has collided with the old.   

Sometime after it was finished, the painting was altered by its new owner. The Emmaus scene was covered over entirely, and a few inches were cut from the left-hand margin (so that even in the restored version one of the disciples is missing). The original version was only rediscovered in 1933 A.D., when the painting was cleaned (see A Story as Sharp as a Knife by Robert Bringhurst). In the altered painting, the resurrected Christ had been edited out of the picture. The Bible story was painted over. Today we often remove the transcendent, the divine. But what we're left with then is merely the washing up. We're left with rags. But in our broken world at the sink with rags, Christ's resurrection is the promise of a new world. But we have not yet received our full resurrection and our world has not yet been renewed. We live between the cross and resurrection, between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. 

For now Christ is incognito. Paul says: "For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory" (Colossians 3:3-4). The reign of Christ is now hidden. But one day it will be fully manifest. For now, though, we live as disciples of the cross. We embrace obscurity, hiddenness, weakness, marginality, and smallness.  

The kitchen maid in Velazquez's painting appears to be an African slave. The artist lived in a time when Spain was debating the status of slaves, and Velazquez emphasizes the maid's dignity by portraying her as listening intently to Christ's words. She may be unnoticed by the world around her, but she dominates the painting and therefore our attention. The last shall be first. This is God's way. His Kingdom grows unnoticed by the world. It's the seed that grows unseen.

+ Excerpt above about the story behind Velasquez' painting adapted from A Meal with Jesus: Discovering Grace, Community, and Mission Around the Table by Tim Chester, pgs. 129-130  

Praying to Be a Wounded Healer and Hope Dealer Today

Let's ask God to help us see Jesus revealed, powerful and present, meeting us in our doubts and fears today. And in receiving such a grace, let's pray to be like the kitchen maid, surprised in the midst of serving, stopped in our tracks to listen and linger, shocked to be in a world where resurrection is possible, and daring to be prisoners of hope.

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Meet us and fill us with Your joy to freely receive and freely give. Walk alongside us and those we get to be among today, and help us to walk alongside others on Emmaus roads in Worcester, not as victors, nor as people with all the answers, but as fellow human beings, wounded healers and hope dealers, looking for You, our Savior to be revealed again as the One who brings resurrection power to our lives, even when feel we lost or dead. Amen.

"I am always hopeful. A Christian is a prisoner of hope. What could have looked more hopeless than Good Friday? But then, at Easter, God says, ‘From this moment on, no situation is untransfigurable.’ There is no situation from which God cannot extract good. Evil, death, oppression, injustice—these can never again have the last word, despite all appearances to the contrary."

+ Bishop Desmond Tutu

Additional posts on being wounded healers + hope dealers:

+ God in the Garden: Seeds of Hope in the Rain & the Dark

+ A Time to Heal | Sozo Jesus, Shalom, and Kintsugi Gospel

And for an intro to the person who I first heard coin the phrase "hope dealer," check out Myron Pierce's amazing story in this 7-minute video: The Myron Pierce Story.

Christ is all,

Rev. Mike "Sully" Sullivan 

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