Emmaus (Easter A3)

the story of Emmaus in art and text,
by Ruben Duran.

I'm struck off hand by the way people come to recognize the risen Christ. The breaking of bread like so many times before, a word, a meal of fish cooking over the coals, his scars. What does it for me? When does the risen Christ become real and not just some truth in the corners of my mind?

There I times I sit to center myself in him and my mind is a rush of thougths and plans and emotions. I grasp at him, not knowing what I want from him. It feels like there is a paper wall between my mind and my forehead that I have to somehow poke through to his presence.

Once there I know him by an overwhelming peace and warmth that sometimes brings tears to my eyes. At those times I like to put my head back and breath in deeply, as he, like in last week's gospel, breathes on me.