I wonder, sometimes (especially after reading certain stories from Scripture like the one we just heard) what I would have done had I been privileged enough to see the risen Lord.  Do you ever wonder about that?  I try to imagine what that would have been like.  What would I do?  What would I say?  What would I be thinking?  What would I feel?  I’m not sure, quite honestly --- not sure exactly how I would react in such a situation.  I’m guessing I’d be shocked at first --- but beyond that, who knows?

But those aren’t really the questions I ponder the most.  You see, there’s a much bigger question out there, one that has bigger consequences for my life in this very time and place.  And the question I really want to know the answer to is this:

If I encountered the risen Lord, would I even notice?

We might think the answer is easy.  Of course, we would notice if Jesus was in our midst, if our God was right in front of us!  How could we not?  Not so fast.  For one thing, we see this sort of thing being played out in the Gospel story we just heard --- a situation in which Jesus’ presence wasn’t always obvious to those he encountered.  It’s important to note the part of the story that precedes this particular passage. 

It’s the story of the Road to Emmaus that we heard last year on this Sunday. You’ll recall that two of his disciples were walking from one town to another accompanied by a man they didn’t know --- or so they thought.  They have a rich, heartfelt conversation with him, sit down for a meal, and then suddenly realize that it was Jesus they were walking with all along.

And while it says that “their eyes were prevented from seeing him” we shouldn’t presume that means that Jesus somehow was responsible for that.  It could very well mean that there was something within each of them that was the cause, some reason they harbored that made it difficult to see what was right in front of them.  

Now we come to the passage we just heard.  The two disciples have returned home and told others what had happened.  And Jesus comes to them again --- and what happens?  They’re not sure what they are seeing!  Jesus has to calm their fears, and shows them his hands and feet --- his way of saying,  It’s really me.

They didn’t recognize him on the road, but they did recognize him in the meal they shared. They didn’t recognize him when he suddenly appeared out of nowhere, but they did recognize him when he provided more concrete evidence for them. 

And so, can we really be sure that we would have recognized him had we been one of those witnesses two thousand years ago?  Well, we actually don’t have to wonder.  We can find out for ourselves . . . .

. . . . because he still comes to us all the time.  But do we notice?

My guess is that the disciples (and other friends of Jesus) sometimes had a hard time recognizing him because he came to them in ways that didn’t match their expectations. They expected one thing and were presented with something much different.  They knew the human Jesus but struggled with the divinity that shined through him.  They wanted him to be and act a certain way, but he constantly upended their preconceived notions of what and who he should be.  In other words --- he came to them (and us) on his terms, not theirs (and not ours).

He comes to us under the appearance of bread and wine in the Eucharist.  The risen Lord is on the Altar, in the tabernacle, and before us in Eucharistic Adoration. 

Can we accept that?   Are we ok with that?   Can we believe that?

Why do people stay away from these profound encounters with risen Lord?  The risen Jesus before us in the Eucharist is the greatest gift we are given as Catholics!    

Jesus hasn’t gone off somewhere watching at a distance.  Our God is alive and well and present to us in so many ways, trying to reveal himself to us, wanting to have an encounter with us.  He is in our midst (without and within) saying to us over and over and over again . . . It’s really me.

It is really me in the Holy Scriptures and in each of the Sacraments.  It’s really me.

He’s saying those words through the man with the sign asking for a handout.  He’s saying those words through the tears of a teenage son or daughter who comes to you and reveals an unexpected pregnancy, or an addiction.   He’s saying those words through the personality and actions of the person you don’t like, or the sibling you struggle to forgive, or the parent who wasn’t as responsible as you had hoped they’d be, or the boss you can never please, or members of the political party you oppose, or the group you look upon with suspicion or maybe even hatred. It’s really me. I am right before you!

And he doesn’t mean just in the happy times or the good things you have or the friends who are loyal or your financial security.  Rather, he’s on the road with you through all the difficult times, through all the sorrows, through every experience that aggravates you or makes you angry. 

And yes, he’s even walking with us and within us when we turn our backs on him, when we stray from the path, when we sin.  That’s the God we have!

And so, I ask again --- If we encountered the risen Lord, would we even notice?