The Road to Emmaus

It seems to me there is one page of the Gospel for each one of us. Some weep with Mary Magdalene before the empty tomb and suddenly He appears: a man who pronounces their names in a low voice. Others put their fingers in the open wounds with Thomas. For my part, I have walked all my life with the two tired travelers who entered Emmaus in the evening. Christ was dead; they had lost everything. Only now, when the shadows of my life are deepening, do I understand what I wrote twenty years ago on this subject in my Life of Jesus: "Who among us is not familiar with the inn at Emmaus? Who has not walked on this road in the evening when all seemed lost? Christ was dead within us. They had taken Him from us – the world, the philosophers and sages, our passions. There was no Jesus for us on the earth. We followed a road, and Someone walked at our side. We were alone and yet we were not alone. It was evening. Here was an open door, the obscurity of a room where the flame from the fireplace lightened nothing but the trampled earth and made the shadows flicker. O broken bread! O breaking of the bread, consummated in spite of so much misery! 'Stay with us…the day declineth…' The day declineth, life is coming to a close. Childhood seems further away than the beginning of the world; and our lost youth means no more to us than the last sound in the dead trees of an unknown park…"

François Mauriac in The Son of Man

As we celebrate the liturgical seasons of the Church year with its multitudinous solemnities and feasts, I always go back to re-read certain spiritual books with well-marked passages that continue to feed my soul and speak to my inmost being. By now I know many of these passages almost by heart, yet they are remain new to me in their timelessness. One such treasured book is the slim volume by François Mauriac, The Son of Man. It totals only 123 pages yet overflows with riches on every page. Mauriac wrote this book at the age of 73, making him 53 years old when he penned the above poignant passage on the Gospel of Emmaus. He lived another 32 years after that, dying at the age of 85.

Today I pray especially for those who walk the road to Emmaus. O Christ our living bread, "consummated in spite of so much misery," let not such misery embitter us! May it turn us to You, our kind and merciful Jesus. May Your Easter joy fill us with hope. May Your Risen Love transform our hearts, making them confident in You and enlarging them with Your compassion. Yes, the day declines and the shadows lengthen, but You, our Morning Star, shine forever. As we prayed at the beginning of the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday night, may Your light, rising in glory, dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds forever. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!!!

"Holy Thursday created these men"

Today, Holy Thursday, I pray in a special way for all priests, particularly those priests so influential in my own life -- the priest who baptized me sixty years ago ... the one who gave me our Lord Jesus in Holy Communion for the very first time ... the priests who have absolved me from my sins in the Sacrament of Penance over and over again, always with such kindness and compassion ... the ones who have counseled me in the ways of the Lord and encouraged me to grow in holiness and love, who have comforted me in my sorrows and supported me in my trials ... the priests who were my beloved spiritual fathers and have gone home to the Father ... the priest who is my spiritual father today, whose unflinching devotion to and undying passion for the Truth challenges me to settle for nothing less, whose wisdom enlightens my ignorance and whose love for our Lord increases my own ... the priests in our parish, especially my dear pastor who loves our parish family so much ... and all the priests in our world today, who strive to be faithful to their priestly vocation, who lovingly minister to us with our many needs, who show us the Father by their lives of love and sacrifice ... and the priests who are troubled, who doubt their calling and are tempted to abandon it, who struggle with their sins and imperfections, who are burdened with loneliness, who feel unappreciated or unloved. Thank you for all our priests, dear Jesus! Bless them and keep them happy in your service. Let them know how greatly you love them. Be their lasting peace and their sure refuge. Heal their brokenness, strengthen their resolve, enlighten their darkness and renew their faith in you. They are yours, all yours, and I entrust them with gratitude and joy to you, O Jesus, our High and Eternal Priest. Amem.

The Eucharist must not prevent us from considering the other sacrament which was instituted on Holy Thursday: Holy Orders. "Do this in remembrance of me." "Do this, as often as you drink [the cup], in remembrance of me."

The twelve apostles are the first twelve priests… Now they are ordained, the first members of an innumerable family. Holiness entered the world with Christ. The Church is holy and what matters to us the wretchedness of individuals, their falls, their betrayals? "The great glory of the Church," writes Jacques Maritain, "is to be holy with sinning members." Until the end of the world, the hands of a few chosen men will never cease to lift up "the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world"… The grace of Holy Thursday will be transmitted unto the end of time, unto the last of the priests who will celebrate the last Mass in a shattered universe. Holy Thursday created these men; a mark was stamped on them; a sign was given to them… Such is the immense stream of grace which has its source in the first priestly ordination of this sacred Thursday.

from Holy Thursday: An Intimate Remembrance, by Francois Mauriac