Today’s readings are full of references to journeys. That’s a great way to describe our faith - it encompasses the twists and turns, the hills and valleys, the people we meet and the experiences we have along the way.

I am the director of youth and young adult ministry in my parish, and have the privilege of journeying alongside the young people and their families in our community. I remind them often of this idea of being on a journey and that our faith stories are not linear.  

We see a lot of what our own faith journeys might look like in the Gospel reading today.  We hear the story of two of Jesus’ disciples traveling the road to Emmaus. As they walk, they talk. What a conversation that must have been! These disciples were followers of Jesus, and had just recently witnessed his brutal death. They perhaps had seen some of Jesus’ miracles firsthand. They had heard the prophecies and promises of a messiah. Yet here they were, trying to sort out what it meant that this savior was dead.  

Then, they are joined by another traveler. We know that this was Jesus, but they didn’t recognize him. They invited him into their conversation. Jesus asked them questions and let them continue talking through their confusion and doubt. He didn’t rush them to a place of easy answers and explanations. He let them wonder and think.  

Jesus does this for us too - he meets us wherever we are in our journeys. He asks us questions, and lets us ask questions too. I often remind young people that God is not afraid of our questions! God wants to hear them. He wants us to think and talk through what we know or don’t know about God. He wants us to have conversations with others that allow us to hear more  perspectives and gain deeper understandings. Jesus invites us into the mystery of our faith. He meets us where we are, and journeys on with us.

As the day nears its end, the disciples have so thoroughly enjoyed this conversation with Jesus that they invite him to join them for dinner.

In accompanying young people and their families on their faith journeys, I get to ask a lot of community building questions. One of my favorite things to have them think and share about is a memorable meal they’ve had. It's a simple question, and everyone can come up with an answer (you might even take a second to think about it yourself!).  It’s fun to hear about the delicious food, and maybe get some ideas for dinner! But, it never fails that every time I ask this question, the answers are ALWAYS about the people the meal was shared with. We’ll get a mention of a perfectly cooked steak, or an extravagant dessert here and there, but it’s ALWAYS the people that make the meals the most memorable.

Again, this might sound like a simple “get to know you” question, but it points to a central practice of our faith. In fact, if you’ve ever had a conversation about faith with me, you’ve probably heard me say - sharing a meal together is one of the most holy things we can do.

We see it in the last supper and the institution of the Eucharist. We are called to share a holy meal together every time we gather for Mass.  

We see it in this Gospel story too. While the disciples and Jesus ate together, he took the bread, broke it and blessed it, and they recognized that this man they had been journeying with was actually Jesus himself.

The breaking of bread isn’t something we can do alone. It happens in community. The early church, in the book of Acts, breaks bread, sharing common meals. Jesus broke bread with the disciples at the last supper. Jesus himself is bread, broken for us, to restore our relationship with him. We are called to community as followers of Jesus.  

Just like the community-builder question, eating together might seem like a simple thing. But sharing a meal helps us to meet people where they are. It opens a space for conversation. It puts us all on the same level - we all have bodies that need nourishment.

Eating together leads us to see the dignity and humanity of those we’re eating with. When we aren’t able to recognize that sameness in others, when we aren’t willing to eat with them, we de-humanize them. Whether it's the person begging on the street corner, our immigrant neighbors who joined our community a different way than we did, or those living in war torn and impoverished countries around the world, when we “other” or marginalize people, we will still eat, but we miss the opportunity to recognize Jesus breaking bread with us. We miss seeing the face of Jesus in those we are eating with.  

At the beginning of Lent, I accompanied a group of clergy and other lay Catholics in an Ash Wednesday service outside the federal building in downtown Los Angeles. We prayed and sang together, heard from a man whose father had recently been detained, and received ashes.  

Then we began the walk to the door of the detention center. We had to walk around to the back of the building and down a long ramp to a dark doorway. Although we had previously sent a letter asking to be let in to offer pastoral care to all those inside, the person on the other side of the thick metal door informed us that we would not be entering in that day. I remember praying that somehow the people inside could hear the voices of those gathered outside  singing the familiar hymn - “God hears the cry of the poor.”

It was a stark image of the death and depravity we are reminded of on Ash Wednesday, and a powerful way to begin my journey through the desert of Lent.  

I was comforted though, by the knowledge that Lent is not the end of the story, that we know that Easter is coming. I’ve been encouraged by the work people of faith are doing to break down doors when we are not let in. I am inspired by these readings during this Easter season that remind us to meet people where they are, to recognize their humanity and dignity, and to journey with them.

As we continue to celebrate Easter, I am reminded of the holy, eucharistic meal we get to celebrate. I take seriously the commission we are all given after we break bread together - to go in peace, to love and serve. I hope you do too.