I Am Two-Years-Old

Spending time with my nephews makes me realize I am like a two-year-old. We all are!

Last year during the spring and summer, I spent some quality time with my twin nephews. At the time they were two-years-old. And even with marvelous parenting from my sister and brother-in-law and stupendous grand-parenting from their Bebe, they helped me to understand why people think the two’s are terrible. There were tears, tantrums, and running around like pair of super-destructive, superconductors that somehow feed off of each other’s energy. And while the experience reminded me that parenting is very difficult, the grandest inspiration that struck me came when I recognized that at my core I am two-years old.

No, I do not respond with the same mechanism. Of course, I do not get on the floor in my office and pound my fists and feet on the floor. I am not the type that whines and cries until I get what I want, but somewhere inside of me I see those two-year-old boys and in them I see me. My fiancée already recognizes this and sees it most notably when I am hangry (hungry+angry), so she will gently lead me towards food before I begin the irrational comments. In her sweet gesture I see that my nephews would probably not respond with their meltdowns if they knew another way, but that is indeed the way that they respond to a need within themselves.

I do not only act like I am two when I am hangry though. There are other moments when I am confronted with stresses that make me feel small or scared. If I am healthy (in body, mind, and spirit) they are no big deal. And yet, even if I am doing well some things are too big for me to confront. These are the moments when I get base. I respond in fear or anxiety. I push people away that love me, or worse yet, I run away from them.

Our Gospel reading for tonight does not reveal why Cleopas and the other disciple were heading from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They had been in that Holy City to witness the awful events of Good Friday. They stuck around over the Passover Festival. The women of their group had even told them that the tomb was empty, but some things are too difficult for us to understand or believe. I suspect that they were a little afraid that what had happened to Jesus could very well happen to them. So, they traveled from the Passover city and on the way they met a stranger.

The stranger did not know what had happened. The stranger walked with them. The stranger listened. That was until the stranger could stand it no more, so he opened the Scripture to them pointing to all those moments when the Messiah’s suffering and death were foretold. Onward the stranger would have gone were it not for Cleopas and the other disciple’s request to dine with them.

It was at this moment of breaking bread together that the scales fell from the disciples eyes and they saw Jesus as himself. They went running seven miles back to Jerusalem at night, so that they could share with the others that “HE IS RISEN!” Somewhere along the way though when the disciples were pumping oxygen and blood through their bodies they also remarked that their hearts had been burning when Jesus was with them.

In the moments when I am trending towards two-years-old, when I am fearful, when I run from my problems like those disciples were hiding from their fate earlier in the story it is these moments when I have the hardest time seeing. I would be just like those disciples. I would not be able to see Jesus walking right next to me. So sometimes, I believe this is where we are in our lives. We are too preoccupied with fear or doubt or rushing around or even doing things that seem like they are good or worthwhile, but all the while we miss that the God who came to dwell with us is dwelling right with us.

This would seem like a bad thing, that we miss God so easily, except that our God is always faithful, always sure, always loving. God, when we miss the presence of Christ right here with us, will come to us as that burning within our hearts. That feeling of pure joy, free gift, or complete love is God knocking at the door to our souls. There are times though when we will even miss that knock. It is at these times that in a strange set of circumstances when we might be with someone we have never met before that God will throw an altar into our lives, so that God can actually break bread with us. That is right. God will come into our lives through something strange and miraculous to get our attention, so that we might commune with him at a sacred meal just for a little while.

When we are confronted with the Risen Christ who comes to share that all things are made new again that even our turning and walking away are transformed into walking with God, we can respond in any number of ways; however, I think Cleopas and the other disciple were spot on. They went immediately and ran to tell others this Good News. And, when they arrived to tell them Jesus showed up there too! This is the joy of Easter. Even when we throw tantrums in our lives, even when we cry and run away, even when we attempt to escape, God has another way. God will burn in our hearts, God will make a table to dwell in sacred meal with us, God will show up to bring us peace. Alleluia, He is Risen!