 |
| "Kitchen Maid with the Supper of Emmaus" by Diego Velazquez, 1618 C.E. |
The resurrection of Jesus
is indeed the basis of our hope.
For in the light of this event,
hope is no longer an illusion.
Thanks to Christ
— crucified and risen from the dead —
hope does not disappoint!
'Spes non confundit!' (cf. Rom 5:5).
That hope is not an evasion,
but a challenge;
it does not delude,
but empowers us.
All those who put their hope in God
place their feeble hands
in His strong and mighty hand;
they let themselves be raised up
and set out on a journey.
Together with the risen Jesus,
they become pilgrims of hope,
witnesses of the victory of love
and of the disarmed power of Life.
Christ is risen!
These words capture
the whole meaning of our existence,
for we were not made for death
but for life.
Easter is the celebration of life!
is indeed the basis of our hope.
For in the light of this event,
hope is no longer an illusion.
Thanks to Christ
— crucified and risen from the dead —
hope does not disappoint!
'Spes non confundit!' (cf. Rom 5:5).
That hope is not an evasion,
but a challenge;
it does not delude,
but empowers us.
All those who put their hope in God
place their feeble hands
in His strong and mighty hand;
they let themselves be raised up
and set out on a journey.
Together with the risen Jesus,
they become pilgrims of hope,
witnesses of the victory of love
and of the disarmed power of Life.
Christ is risen!
These words capture
the whole meaning of our existence,
for we were not made for death
but for life.
Easter is the celebration of life!
+ Pope Francis,
"Urbi et Orbi"
Easter Sunday, April 20, 2025
"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, ascension, and promise to return, Jesus has been working as the God of hope to fill us with all joy and peace as we trust in Him so that we might overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (cf Romans 15:13).
In the midst of treasuring Pope Francis' final homily, "Urbi et Orbi" (see quote above), on Easter hope to begin Eastertide's 50 Days of Joy, I'm praying for how I can grow to become a stronger hope dealer when I and those I love are hassled and hurt in an often hateful world ...
"I had hoped ...
that I would still have my job."
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."
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."
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."
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."
that we wouldn't have to move again."
"I had hoped ...
there wouldn't be another crisis."
there wouldn't be another crisis."
"I had hoped ...
I would still have hope."
All the hopes above are thoughts from stories I know exist in our city of Worcester, Massachusetts, giving me pause to reflect again on the many reasons that God gave us the name Emmaus City Church.
The "Kitchen Maid" painting above also captures in visual form the essence of the potent true stories of "Emmaus" moments (including one of my favorites about Tatiana Goricheva), stories of real people who have encountered as well as those who will encounter the presence of Jesus in surprising ways.
Today, I stare again at Velasquez' "Kitchen Maid with the Supper of Emmaus," knowing I and others need to hear Jesus' answer to the statement, "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.
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 into our current darkness?
will break into our current darkness?
Story Behind
"Kitchen Maid w/ the Supper of Emmaus"
"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 Hope Dealer Today
Let's ask God to help us see Jesus revealed, powerful and present, giving us hope 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 become 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
Bonus Posts on Being a Hope Dealer:
No comments:
Post a Comment