Third Sunday of Easter A. May
8, 2011. Our Lady of Grace 7:30. 11:30.
Acts 2:14, 22-33. I Peter 1:17-21. Luke 24:13-35.
Andrew was six years old when he came down with bacterial
meningitis, a very aggressive disease that destroyed the blood circulation in
his legs. Finally both of his legs had to be amputated, but the little
boy didn’t die – he lived. Andrew was devastated when he discovered that
he didn’t have legs. His mother was angry and she felt betrayed by
God. Why should a little boy suffer so much? After months of
rehabilitation Andrew finally went home with new artificial legs. The
little boy insisted that he was going to walk again, no matter how many times
he fell while trying. He insisted that some day he was going to ride his
bike again too. One night at supper Andrew said something very
shocking. “Mommy, I saw God when I was in the hospital. God put
out his arms and I thought that he was going to give me a hug: instead he just
touched my shoulder.” His mother said, “Did God say anything to
your Andrew?” “No,” the boy said, “but I knew that
God was there.”
The mother began to cry because her little son was dealing
with his sickness better than she was. She was angry and bitter.
She felt betrayed. But Andrew was moving on in his life. She
thought, “If I had met God along the way I would be hopeful like my little
boy.” Then she spoke to God saying, “Lord, thank you for being with my
son – but what about me? God, what about me?”
Mothers are people who are with us as long as we live.
My mother died six years ago. Whenever I am coming home from the doctor
with troubling news like having my knee replaced I always want to stop and talk
to my mother about it, even now when she has died. From the moment we are
conceived we are on a journey with our mothers. Sometimes there is pain
in that relationship. Some may even have to look for healing and
forgiveness in that relationship. But mothers do not go away.
The best gift that my mother gave me was a deep personal
love for Jesus Christ and for Mary, the mother of Jesus. As a child I watched
my mother sit at the kitchen table with her prayers books every evening.
She never talked about it, but prayer is something that we all saw her
do. We walked a mile to Mass every Sunday, even through snow storms and
snow drifts. My father, who died a very devoted Catholic, was not going
to Mass at that time – but her faith made room for him too. We were surprised
that he ended up going to Mass alone, even when she was not able to go.
Witness is the best teacher. My mother did what she believed. She
left me a legacy of personal faith and a strong tradition of Mass every
Sunday. She left me some money too – but most important was her powerful
faith in the Eucharist which I caught from her example and not from her words.
She taught me that faith is more precious than gold.
At the very darkest moment of their lives two of the
disciples of Jesus were going to a village named Emmaus, seven miles from
It is interesting that Jesus doesn’t fully reveal himself to
the travelers on the road to Emmaus through the words of the Bible. It is
only at the end of the day when they sit with Jesus at the table and he takes
bread, says the blessing, breaks it and gives it to them that they recognize
him as the risen Christ. The last time he had broken bread with them was at the
Last Supper when he blessed and broke the bread saying, "This is my
body which is given up for you. Do this in remembrance of me."
(Luke 22:19) The Emmaus travelers rush back to