The Gospel says simply, that he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread. The Collect of the Day prays, modestly, that he might similarly be made known to us. And that is the faith of the Church - that he is, indeed, made known to us in the breaking of the bread -  just like he was that time, in that house in Emmaus. The Church believes that the Mass IS "Emmaus", now and always and forever enduring. The Resurrection Appearance described this morning, to these anonymous followers of Jesus, is, I think, the most appealing of all the Resurrection Appearances. Because it is the one Appearance available to me the one in which I can share, in which all of us can share, the one all of us can expect. The Gospel readings throughout the Easter Season detail the Resurrection Appearances of our Lord--to Mary Magdalene, to Peter, to John, to the rest of the Apostles, to Thomas in his turn, in gardens, in rooms, on beaches. The Appearances continue--to family members, to 500 new Christians gathered together, and finally, as to one untimely born, to St. Paul, out of the noonday sun. But one of the Appearances, and for me the best, was simply in a little house in Emmaus in the breaking of the bread. And that, frankly, is the only reason that I believe in the Resurrection. That is the only reason that I look for him to come again in glory. That is the only reason that I put my trust in him. That is the only reason why I accept his assurance that he will be with us always, even to the end of the ages. Because he has appeared in the breaking of the bread, and will again, and will forever. Unlike St Paul, I never heard him speaking to me out of the noonday sun. Unlike St Mary Magdalene, I never saw him standing before me in garden softly calling my name. Unlike St Thomas, I never put my hands in the print of the nails or the wounded side. Unlike the apostles I have never shared breakfast with Jesus on the seashore. But like these unnamed men trudging toward Emmaus, I have been with Jesus when he made himself known to me in the breaking of the bread. We all have. In our little Emmaus moments, in our little Emmaus churches, the eyes of our faith are opened, and we know who is in our midst. He makes himself present and real and known in the Breaking of the Bread, in the holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Of all the Resurrection Appearances, this is the one that has never stopped, and will endure to the fulfillment of all things. The only regularly recurring, expected, predictable Appearance, the one, the only one, we can count on, is the Mass. And count on it we do. It is the one sole moment of our lives that will never disappoint us, the one thing that will never let us down, the one love that will never let us go, the one Appearance that will abide with us forever, in a faithful constancy that exceeds our most desperate longing. So many of us hope for so much and so often are so disappointed and so disheartened. It is then that we come to the Mass, to our Emmaus, to find the fulfillment that somehow seems to elude us on all our various journeys to and from the Jerusalems of our lives. And someone meets us on the way there, someone who will not let us down, will not let us go, will not turn away, will not lose interest, will not think better of it, will not seek a more attractive companion, will never draw aside, will never regret a commitment, will never long for someone else. The Mass, the Emmaus Mass, the Emmaus Appearance, presents a love, an Emmaus love, that will never abandon us, never reject us, never let go. We seek the Lord where he wills to be found, and we seek him in so many ways and places--we seek him in Scripture, in prayer, in reverent silence, we seek him in the midst of agonizing pain, we seek him in the face of the poor and the oppressed, in the dejected sadness of the unloved, in the charitable care that may surround us. And we can find traces of him in all those places, we can find reflections of him in all those people. But it is in the Mass, and only in the Mass, in the Breaking of Bread, that we meet him, that we encounter the physical reality, the real thing, present and actual--the Risen Lord in our midst. The Real Presence. We can go dry in our prayer life, lackadaisical in our study of Scripture, heedless of the cries of the oppressed, hardhearted toward the supplications of the poor, cavalier about the wounds of the suffering, negligent of the concerns of the lonely, offended by the cynicism of the unloved. And in all of this we can, and do, miss the presence of Christ in our midst at our side. But not in the Mass. He is here, present and real, regardless. No matter what our state of mind or our wandering of spirit, no matter how attuned we are or how spiritually prepared we might or might not be. He is here, making himself known in the breaking of the bread, making himself known in his risen glory, making himself known in the power of his Resurrection, making himself known in the Mass of Emmaus. It is here, to this Mass that we come--sinful and contrite, or arrogant and unrepentant. It is here that we come, joyful or grieving, broken, hurt, wounded, worn out, disappointed in love, frustrated in our lives, battered in our friendships, sagging in our faith, we come to Emmaus, to this Breaking of the Bread, to this Mass, and he is here waiting to make himself known to us, waiting to appear, waiting to set our hearts on fire so that they once again, or for the first, might burn within us. Here we come when the news is bad, when the diagnosis is devastating, when a friend of family member sickens and dies, when one more dream is abandoned, one more hope has foundered, when once more our heart has been broken, and it has all become too much to accept, too much to deal with, too much to bear. We then come here, to the Mass. For he is here, that is why we come. He is here waiting for us, waiting to appear to us, to be made known in these miscellaneous lives we live. And like those disciples who just happened to be walking and talking, not doing anything heroic or even very devout, not making any great religious effort, simply open to possibility, simply responsive and hospitable to the one who appeared at their side, simply making him feel wanted, inviting him into personal lives, inviting him to come and stay with us for it is late. We are not commanded to make energetic initiatives. We are not required to prepare through unattainable effort some impossible worthiness. We simply offer for him to stay with us for evening is hand and the day is far spent. We don't need to do anything more than that, anything more than make ourselves welcoming and open to the presence of Christ in our lives. He will do the rest. In this recurring encounter with the Risen Lord, from that evening in Emmaus, to this morning here, we have only to be willing and open and responsive. He will appear, and our hearts will burn within us. He will make himself known, he will appear, he will open our eyes to behold him, he will set our hearts on fire with love of him, he will appear and be known in the breaking of the offering himself to us, appearing to us in our lives where we are, as we. And our hearts will be set on fire!