Recently someone asked if I would have seen Jesus as God, as Messiah or crazy if I had seen him human in real life?
That question, together with this week's Gospel, last week's Easter service, a paining by Velázquez and a poem by Denise Levertov have all occupied my mind this week. Reading: Luke 24:13–35 Painting and Poem: “The Servant Girl at Emmaus (A Painting by Velázquez)” by Denise Levertov
Prayer:
Lord of the quiet hearth and the burning heart,
Open our eyes in the breaking of bread. Let us recognize you, not only in our sanctuaries, but also in our kitchens, our ordinary hours, our unremarkable tasks. Amen
The poet Denise Levertov wrote about a painting by Velázquez This painting is a seemingly simple image of a servant girl in a kitchen. In the background, behind her shoulder, almost framed as a paining within the painting, two men sit at a table with a third man whose gestures echo the familiar scene from Luke’s Gospel, namely the breaking of bread at Emmaus.
Something sacred is happening when Levertov's poem takes on Velázquez's subject. Not the holy table. Not the broken bread. Not even the resurrected Christ. Instead her poem details the young servant girl and her internal conclusions about Jesus. She is busy, perhaps tired, and certainly unnoticed. The poet writes:
“She listens, listens, holding
her breath. Surely that voice
is his—the one
who had looked at her, once,
across the crowd, as no one
ever had looked?”
How often is the Emmaus story told from the perspective of the disciples: walking, despairing, transformed? Yet the good news of resurrection isn’t just in hearts that burn, it can be recognized by the hands that wash dishes.
This is the radical theology of Levertov’s vision. It is the good news that Christ is not only with the wise and learned, but also with the ones who clean up after communion. Christ is recognized not just at the altar, but by the one standing in the kitchen, overhearing a miracle.
The servant girl doesn’t interrupt. She doesn’t announce a revelation. She listens and becomes attuned. She is alert and in awe as she moves into a faithful posture.
There is a quiet sacredness of every life, every role, many humble acts. The Divine is not confined to a sanctuary. God can be found in the folding of laundry, in the caregiver’s exhaustion,or in an unnoticed woman who stops, breathes, and hears something holy.
The resurrection did not come with trumpets. It came over meals, in the breaking of bread and in the gaze of a man who had once noticed a servant girl.
And so, the question today is not only “Would I have recognized Jesus on the road?” but “Would I have believe someone if she said she heard him?"
At times we all walk our own roads to Emmaus. At times we choose to walk away from our holy city and the heart of our faith. There are times where we are confused, at times grieving. Certainly there can be times, however, to choose to be like the servant girl; listening, even in our busyness. Let us expect to hear Christ in the next room, the next person, or the next voice that says your name with a sacred weight.
We also don’t need to be at the center of the story to encounter God. Sometimes, the holiest moment is hearing the sound of resurrection while drying your hands on a towel.
The Servant Girl at Emmaus
She listens, listens, holding her breath.
Surely that voice
is his — the one
who had looked at her, once,
across the crowd, as no one ever had looked?
Had seen her?
Had spoken as if to her?
Surely those hands were his,
taking the platter of bread from hers just now?
Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?
Surely that face — ?
The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.
The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.
The man it was rumored now some women had seen this morning,
alive?
Those who had brought this stranger home to their table
don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.
But she in the kitchen,
absently touching the wine jug she’s to take in,
a young Black servant intently listening,
swings round and sees
the light around him
and is sure. — Denise Levertov
Today's service had a welcome of new members. This was a large group, many of whom have become a presence within the larger congregation quickly. Coffee hour had many conversations of people getting to know those who had been strangers.
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