“Lord Jesus, stay with us, for evening is at hand and the day is past…” So begins a well-loved prayer from the Episcopal service of Compline, or “night prayer.” It comes from this week’s Gospel story. The two disciples do not recognize Jesus, despite his insight and authority on sacred history, but they want to continue conversation with him, to remain in his presence. Even as they reach their destination, and he is preparing to walk on, they urge him to stay:
As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. 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…
Jesus’ resurrection body must have been looked different – in nearly every post-Easter appearance we read in the Gospels, people who knew and loved Jesus did not recognize him until he did or said something familiar. At the supper table that night in Emmaus, when Jesus took the bread, blessed, broke and gave it to them, they suddenly saw who it was they’d spent the afternoon with. How often had they seen him bless and break bread – sometimes in amazing circumstances: when they fed 5,000 people on a hillside with five loaves and two fish; when they’d gathered only a few nights ago for the Passover feast; such strange words had accompanied that action: “Take, eat. This is my body, given for you. Whenever you eat this bread, do it in remembrance of me.” The familiar action made manifest the holy.
Breaking bread is a universal rite of community, whether at table, on a special occasion, to reconvene family, reconcile the estranged. It became a central act for Christians, not only the Eucharistic blessing, breaking and sharing, but also at common meals celebrating the people gathered.
At our Eucharistic feast, the bread represents Christ’s body – it is broken so as to be shared, given away, as his life was. So, too, the community (also the Body of Christ) is broken apart after worship to feed the world. As a friend once explained her understanding of eucharist: “You give us this little piece of bread, and we give it away all week, and come back for more.” Yes. And when next the Body comes back together, reconstituted, there is a new loaf of bread to be broken. And on it goes, this breaking and making whole in Jesus’ name. (Theological question: In this time of social distancing, is the Body reconstituted at Sunday worship, or do we remain broken? Mystically, we are united – but that’s hard to experience when we’re physically apart, united only by Zoom and the Holy Spirit…)
With what do you associate “the breaking of bread?” What are the holy feasts in your life? They may not be centered around worship, but on family or holidays or celebrations – picnics, banquets. Do you think of Jesus when the bread is broken and shared in those feasts? Such moments can remind us that his presence is a promise to us, and an invitation to enter his brokenness and his wholeness.
We might make that Compline prayer part of our end-of-day practice:
Lord Jesus, stay with us, for evening is at hand and the day is past; be our companion in the way, kindle our hearts, and awaken hope, that we may know you as you are revealed in Scripture and the breaking of bread. Grant this for the sake of your love. Amen.
For the sake of his love, he has already granted that prayer. That way is ready for us to walk in.
For the sake of his love, he has already granted that prayer. That way is ready for us to walk in.
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