Change of Heart

Third Sunday of Easter Year A

Metanoia is a Greek word which we priests like to brandish to show off our grasp (or lack of it) of this scriptural language. It sounds like a good name for a medical condition or a punk band. It is Greek for “change of mind,” meaning a change in one’s life direction resulting from a spiritual conversion. The word is formed by combining two smaller Greek words: meta (beyond); and nous (mind or spirit). Together, they form the verb (metanoeō), which means something like “go beyond the mind that you have.” But a change of mind seems too tame. I would think that Metanoia involves a radical change that goes much deeper - a change of heart, a change of the core of our being, forcing one to dig deeply.

St Luke, in the last chapter of his gospel, beautifully illustrates this concept by painting this life-changing, conversion inducing encounter of two disciples with the Risen Lord. Without missing a beat, he incisively describes how the disciples had completely lost their bearings and sense of direction (both spiritual and geographical) in the overwhelming aftermath of Jesus’ death: “They stopped short, their faces downcast”. So caught up in their own pain, they were unable to recognise the One who stood before them, the One who bore our pain and who suffered on the cross so that we may not have to bear them for eternity.

The Road to Emmaus, which originally started as a walk of shame and a retreat after a massive defeat, was transformed into a march of restoration and growth. On that road, there was a re-learning on the part of the disciples. They had most likely heard these scriptures many times before. The stories were familiar but now they needed to be told once again. This was necessary for them to really grasp the significance of the Cross. Who better to teach them these things than the very One who sent the prophets and gave them those inspired words?

What brought about these two men’s conversion – their change of heart? In fact, this is what St Luke wishes to emphasise by using the term “kardia” which translates as “heart” three times in the road to Emmaus story (the term kardia is used more frequently by Luke than by any of the other evangelists). First Jesus upbraids the two disciples for being “so slow (of heart) to believe the full message of the prophets!” (24:35). When he vanishes from their sight, they say to each other that their hearts burned within them while he spoke to them on the road (cf. 24:32). Finally, after they have told their story to the eleven and the other disciples, and Jesus appears in the midst of them all, he rebukes them all for the questioning which has arisen in their hearts, their failure, even upon seeing him, to believe in him (cf. 24:36–38). For Luke, the heart is the place of repentance and conversion or the lack thereof, and his use of the term expresses his abiding concern for conversion, in the complete sense.

But this dialogue would not be the high point of the story. All this merely leads to the climax which takes place at the end of the story - the breaking of bread. The Word of God leads to the Sacrament of God. We say that the Scriptures are light for our path, and that path leads to the Eucharist.

Some commentators have suggested that the disciples finally recognised Jesus simply because of a familiar gesture on His part. But this understates how Luke purposefully uses words which he had used in his account of the Last Supper (Lk 22:19-20). Yes, the disciples certainly recognised that gesture, but the recognition was a gift of grace - it was the very celebration of the Eucharist that helped them recognise the Lord.

The Church recognises that Christ is present in the congregation, the priest and the Word of God. But there is something unique about His presence in the Eucharist. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (1374) teaches that this Eucharistic presence “is called 'real' - by which is not intended to exclude the other types of presence as if they could not be 'real' too, but because, it is presence in the fullest sense: that is to say, it is a substantial presence by which Christ, God and man, makes himself wholly and entirely present."

Each time our Lord celebrates the Eucharist for us, He invites us to recognise Him. As in an old Hymn, the Lord is inviting us to “open the eyes of our hearts.” Each time we celebrate the Eucharist we meet the Risen Lord, not just symbolically or as a memorial, but in person, in the flesh, although He hides under the guise of bread and wine. He does not compel us to do so, through spectacular miracles. Instead, He gently invites us. It is because He comes so quietly, so respectful of our freedom to respond in faith, that we can miss Him in the Eucharist. Too often we yearn for the spectacular religious experience, and miss the lifegiving encounter so repeatedly offered in the Mass. And yet in this quiet celebration, we find life, abundant life.

The effect of recognising Him "in the breaking of the Bread" is action. The disciples did not linger at Emmaus. They hurried back to Jerusalem to proclaim that they had seen the Lord. This is what true conversion of the heart entails. Likewise, the Christian is not expected to linger at the Eucharist. It is an encounter with Jesus, in Word and Sacrament, which sends the Christian out to witness. We come to Mass so that we may go back into the life of discipleship, renewed by the encounter with our risen Saviour, and made ready for action in His service.

Just like the two disciples who dragged their feet in shame and grief back to Emmaus, our faith can sometimes become stale just like our experience of the Eucharist. Routine can deaden our spiritual senses. The flame of faith that had been instilled in us can become dimmed to the point of being extinguished. That is why conversion, repentance, a change of heart, must be the daily constant in our lives. This is because our faith needs constant refreshing by the experience of an encounter with the Risen Lord.

Repentance, conversion—metanoia—stands at the heart of the Christian journey. This is why the story of the Road to Emmaus does not only remind us of the importance of one sacrament but two – Penance and the Eucharist. The sacrament of Penance, confession, must precede the Eucharist. So, let us ask the Lord this day—and each day after—where, when, and how He is calling us to go beyond ourselves to experience the conversion, the change of heart and mind, that He longs to perform in us. In every encounter, there is always an opportunity for our hearts, our “kardia”, to burn once again with new fervour and excitement, and opportunity to look back at all the pitfalls, difficulties and losses we’ve experienced, and recognise that He was not far away, even though sometimes we may choose to walk away from Him.