Jesus Is Never Absent...Sometimes He Is Just Unrecognized (3rd Sunday of Easter, Year A)

There’s something deeply human and easily relatable about the Road to Emmaus story. Two disciples are walking away from Jerusalem; away from everything they had hoped for just days before. They’re confused, discouraged, and heartbroken…trying to make sense of something that didn’t turn out the way they thought it would. They had invested years of their lives into Jesus, believing he was the messiah. Some of them had even walked away from their livelihoods and homes to follow him. They were all in…and then the shocker of Good Friday happened and their whole world fell apart. They are reeling and need to clear their heads, so they try to find answers elsewhere where the pain, trauma, disappointment isn’t so strong. As a priest and pastor, I see this story played out powerfully and personally in the people I serve. Many of you are on the road to Emmaus, now or in the recent past! Perhaps because of a diagnosis you didn’t expect, which turned your world and your future upside down. Maybe it is the sudden loss of someone you love, a job that feels uncertain or unexpectedly terminated, or a family conflict that escalated and won’t resolve. In these jarring moments, we start asking the same questions: “Where is God in this? What is He doing? Has he abandoned me? Was it all a lie?”

The beautiful part of today’s Gospel is that Jesus is already walking with them. They’re not alone, not abandoned, not forgotten. They just don’t recognize Him yet. And that’s the part which can help us find hope in our own walk through uncertainty and heartbreak. How often is that true in our lives? We think God is absent when in reality He’s just unrecognized. He’s there in the hospital room, in the funeral home, in the stress and uncertainty, walking right alongside us…even when we’re too overwhelmed or discouraged to see Him.

How does Jesus minster to his faithful ones who do not recognize him? He doesn’t scold or preach at them. He walks with them patiently, quietly listening, allowing them to express everything on their hearts and then begins to explain. He opens the Scriptures, he connects the dots, little by little, to show that every mystery had meaning. Nothing was wasted or coincidence. With hindsight, they realize the moment it all started coming together, the moment they started seeing with the eyes of faith, and they say, “Were not our hearts burning within us?” That’s the beginning of recognition. Not total clarity, not complete understanding, but something inside them starts to come alive and hope again. And that’s exactly what can happen to us, especially here at Mass. Every time we come to the Eucharist, we walk with Jesus, whether we realize it or not. If we do so with faith, every Mass opens the Scriptures for us in some way, God speaks into our lives, and little by little, our hearts begin to recognize that He’s been there all along.

Just that would be good enough but, incredibly, it gets even better! Next comes the turning point…the breaking of the bread. Suddenly what was hidden becomes visible. What was confusing becomes clear. The disciples recognized Jesus in that moment. We believe the same thing happens here; not symbolically, but actually. Christ makes Himself known and present in our midst. Which means if we want to recognize Him in the confusion of our lives out there, we need to learn to recognize Him in here. That’s the value of Mass; not just once in a while, but every week, even every day if we can. This is where our eyes are trained to see.

Of course the story doesn’t end at the table even though Jesus disappears the moment they recognize Him. Without hesitation, the disciples get up and go back. Seven miles on the same road they had just walked, tired and discouraged. Now they run it in the dark. It’s inconvenient. It’s uncomfortable. It costs them something. It would have been easy to say, “We’ll go tomorrow… this can wait… it’s not necessary.” But they don’t. Because when you’ve really encountered Christ, delay feels more like disobedience. Besides that, trying to contain truly Good News is next to impossible; it has to be shared as soon as possible! When they arrive back in Jerusalem, they find that the Lord had already appeared to Simon Peter and their testimony adds to it. Piece by piece, witness by witness, the Gospel starts gaining unstoppable momentum.

This is where the Emmaus story hits home and challenges us. We know how easy it is to make excuses. We’ve experienced moments of grace, clarity, and real encounters with God…and yet how often do we tell ourselves, “I’ll share that later… it’s not the right time… they probably wouldn’t be interested anyway.” Meanwhile, people in our lives are walking their own road to Emmaus: confused, discouraged, or overwhelmed. They don’t even realize Christ is with them. Often, the way He wants to reach them is through us, through our simple witness that might require us to take a risk or be vulnerable.

So my invitation this week is simple but also a little uncomfortable: ask for the grace to see where Christ is be walking with you, even if you haven’t recognized Him yet. Stay close to the Mass, because this is where our eyes are opened. And when you do recognize Him…even in a small way…don’t keep it to yourself. Be willing to go back and share your moment when you saw Jesus even though it would be easier to keep it to yourself. The same Jesus who walked with those disciples is walking with you right now. And the good news He’s explaining to you isn’t meant to stop with you, it’s meant to spread for the good of His Church and the salvation of the world!

 

Want Mercy? Give Mercy!

  Twenty-five years ago, St. John Paul II designated the Sunday right after Easter as Divine Mercy Sunday. He did this intentionally, because you can’t really understand Easter without understanding mercy. The resurrection only makes sense if we understand forgiveness. No matter who you are, there’s not a single person here who doesn’t want mercy. We’ve all needed it… we’ve all asked for it… some of us have begged for it.

Kids, know what I’m talking about. You get grounded, and suddenly the very things that are taken away: the phone, the Xbox, the car…those are the only things you can think about. And what do you say? “Mom, come on… just one show?” “Dad, I know I’m grounded, but all my friends are going out…” You’re not asking for justice, you’re asking for mercy.

Or if you’ve ever been driving and you look in the rearview mirror and see those flashing lights… your heart drops a little. And as the officer walks up, all of a sudden we become very polite, slightly confused people. “Officer, I didn’t realize how fast I was going…” “I thought the light was still yellow…” Translation: please have mercy on me.

Same thing after a bad test. Suddenly we’re negotiating: “Can I retake it? Is there extra credit? Maybe a curve?” Especially if we think it wasn’t entirely our fault…because we had a game the night before, weren’t feeling well, or simply blanked on the answers.

In all of these moments, we want a break. Even if we don’t fully deserve it, we want someone to go easy on us. And when they do…when the officer gives a warning, when the teacher bumps the grade, when a parent lightens the punishment…it feels amazing. It’s like a weight gets lifted.

I remember one of my first experiences of mercy. I was probably six or seven, playing outside, and I broke our neighbor’s window. Completely shattered it. I was convinced my life was over. I had no money to replace it, no way to fix it; I honestly thought I was going to jail. So I ran inside, told my mom, and waited for the handcuffs to be slapped on.

A little while later she came back and said, “You’re not in trouble. The neighbor said don’t worry about it.” No anger. No demand for payment. Just… mercy. And I still remember that feeling; the weight of the world taken away.

As powerful as those moments are, they’re only a tiny glimpse of God’s mercy. God’s mercy isn’t just a feeling or an action…it’s actually a person: Jesus Christ. He didn’t have to become one of us. He didn’t have to suffer. He didn’t have to go to the cross. But he chose to, out of love for us. Out of mercy. 

That’s why Easter and Divine Mercy are inseparable. The resurrection is the proof that mercy wins. Sin doesn’t. Death doesn’t. God’s mercy has the final word. And it’s being offered to every single one of us. Christ’s arms are still open. He’s ready to forgive and heal but he won’t force it. We have to come to him.

That’s why the sacraments matter so much, especially confession. It’s not just a ritual; it’s an encounter with mercy and a movement towards God. How often we put it off! We say, “I’ll go later… next month… eventually.” But why wait? If God is offering freedom, why keep carrying the weight?

But here’s where it gets a little more challenging. Mercy is not just something we receive. It’s something we have to give. Jesus is very clear about that: we are forgiven in the measure that we forgive others. The way we give mercy… is the way we receive it.

That might make us pause for a second. Because if I’m stingy with mercy…if I hold grudges, keep score, refuse to let things go….then I shouldn’t be surprised if my experience of God’s mercy feels pretty limited. But if I’m generous… if I go out of my way to forgive, to give people the benefit of the doubt, to let things go… then I’m opening myself up to receive that same generosity from God.

This is where Divine Mercy really pushes against our culture. We live in a world that demands perfection from everyone else… but makes excuses for ourselves. When someone else messes up? We want justice. We want accountability. We want consequences. But when we mess up? “Well, you don’t understand… I was tired… I was stressed… it’s complicated…” It’s the exact opposite of what Jesus is offering.

Jesus is saying: come receive my mercy but do not fail share it with others. The world says, “be easy on yourself, and hard on everyone else.” We have to decide which voice we’re going to follow.

Each of us has people in our lives right now who need our mercy. Maybe it’s someone who hurt us. Maybe it’s someone who annoys us. Maybe it’s someone we’ve just quietly written off. And we justify holding onto it by telling ourselves they don’t deserve forgiveness. They probably don’t. But neither did we. And yet God gives it to us anyway.

So if we want to live the joy of Easter…if we really want to experience the power and freedom of the resurrection…then our lives have to become a cycle of mercy: receiving it from God, and giving it away to others, over and over again, until it becomes who we are.

Start small. It doesn’t have to be dramatic. A kind word when you’re irritated. Letting something go instead of bringing it up again. Being patient with someone who gets on your nerves. Giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Every time we do that, we’re not just being nice, we are becoming more like Christ.

Moving forward, let’s ask God to help us become icons of Divine Mercy. Not just asking for it but giving it often, generously, even when it’s difficult. that’s how God treats us. Give thanks to the LORD for he is good, his love is everlasting.

Congratulations on Your New Home! (Easter, 2026)

  First of all, on behalf of the clergy and staff of Incarnate Word, I want to wish you a very holy and happy Easter! To our parishioners, I hope this time of rejoicing in Christ’s victory offers you countless graces and renewed hope. And to all of our visitors who are here with family and friends…welcome! We are truly glad you are here. Whether it’s here or back home when your visit is over, we hope you will always feel at home in the Catholic church where we strive to make God’s love, joy, and victory visible.

Now, in comparison to what Jesus has done for us, everything else fades; but there is still a tremendous amount of work that goes into celebrating these Easter liturgies. Our musicians and choir spend long hours preparing. Our lectors practice and pray over the readings. Our servers navigate the unique rhythms of the Triduum. And then there’s our decorating team, who in less than 24 hours transform a bare church into something vibrant and alive, filled with flowers and color.

It might seem simple; just get a bunch of flowers and spread them around, but working with florists doesn’t always go as planned.

I heard about a real estate agent who sent flowers to a client who had just closed on a new home. Instead of a thank-you call, the client called, confused, asking what message the flowers were supposed to convey. The agent asked for a picture…and sure enough, it was a funeral arrangement, with a ribbon that read, “Rest in Peace.” After apologizing, the agent called the florist to complain. The florist responded, “It could be worse… just imagine, today someone was buried with flowers that said, ‘Congratulations on your new home!’”

It’s good to laugh a little on Easter. Because in a sense, that’s exactly what’s happened. Death and the devil are the ones standing there looking foolish. Because the tomb is empty. Because Jesus Christ is risen. And everything has changed.

At the heart of our celebration today is not just the idea that Jesus went from “rest in peace” to “congratulations on your new home.” Through His Resurrection, He has changed the meaning of life and death for all of us.

Before Christ, death was the end. The final word: the unbreakable barrier. But now it becomes a doorway. It becomes the passage into eternal life. Now it becomes, for those who belong to Him, the beginning instead of the end.

Today’s celebration connects back to what we reflected on just days ago with Good Friday. We stood at the foot of the cross and remembered that Jesus took our place. Like St. Maximilian Kolbe stepping forward for another prisoner, Christ stepped forward for us…taking upon Himself the weight of our sins, offering His life so that we might live.

Today we celebrate the revelation of the whole story of salvation; the cross was not the end. The Resurrection is the plot twist. The proof that His sacrifice was not in vain. The proof that sin has been defeated. The proof that death does not and cannot win. It also shows that self-giving, sacrificial love, united with faith, has the final word.

I came across an example of this resurrection faith recently in the story of of a local sports figure. Some of you may have heard of Eduard Löwen, a player for St. Louis City SC. Recently, his wife Ilona passed away at just 28 years old, after a long battle with cancer. By any measure, it is a devastating loss; the kind of suffering that shakes a person to the core and causes some to question God.

And yet, in interviews and in the words he shared at her funeral, what stood out was not despair, but faith. Not hopelessness, but hope. He said, “My world has been shattered. And still I can say with confidence that God is enough.” He acknowledged the depth of his grief, calling her “the most precious thing” in his life…and yet he also said, “As much as I loved her, there is someone I love more, and that is Jesus.” And perhaps most strikingly, he spoke of the future…not with uncertainty, but with conviction: “I will meet her one day.”

That is not denial. That is not pretending the pain isn’t real. That is resurrection faith. That is what it looks like when Easter is not just something we celebrate but something we live. The Resurrection doesn’t take away the cross but it transforms it. It tells us that even the worst thing is never the last thing. It tells us that nothing is wasted: not our joys, not our struggles, not even our losses. God, in His power and love, can take all of it and use it to lead us to Himself and eternal life.

Which leads to a few reflection questions before we head off to our celebrations. Do we live as people who truly believe that life is a gift? Do we live with gratitude for what Christ has done? Do we live with the kind of faith that changes how we face suffering, loss, and even death? Or do we slip back into living as though this world is all there is?

Easter is not just a day to celebrate…it is a way to live. It is an invitation to see everything differently. To recognize that Christ has gone ahead of us and opened the way but we must follow. That death is no longer has the power to rule over us. That love is not destroyed. And that one day, for those who belong to Him, reunion is not just a wish but a promise.

So during this easter season, as we celebrate that Christ is risen, may it not just be words we say but a truth we live. An unshakeable truth that gives us hope in suffering, strength in hardship, and confidence in the face of death. Because the tomb is empty…and that changes everything. Amen. Alleluia.