Beyond Colour-Correction

 3rd Sunday of Easter (A)

Readings: Acts 2: 14, 22-33; Psalm 15 (16): 1-2, 5, 7-11; 1 Peter 1: 17-21; Luke 24: 13-35

Picture: By Diana Polekhina on Unsplash

My dear friends, this may seem like a strange question to ask, but what does the liturgy have in common with toothpaste? Some of us may have seen that commercial for a popular brand of toothpaste, which still plays frequently on YouTube. It features a pretty young K-Pop star, explaining the benefits of using purple-coloured toothpaste. Why purple? Because purple colour-corrects yellow. Yellow teeth… plus purple toothpaste… equals… a whiter more beautiful smile. Or so the theory goes…

Forgive me if it seems disrespectful to say so, but doesn’t this sound strikingly similar to what we are celebrating liturgically over these days? The transition from the penitential purple of Lent to the glorious white of Easter? And we know that, beyond the penitential practices undertaken in Lent, the colour purple points especially to the Passion of Jesus. The humiliation and death he suffered at the hands of his enemies. The soldiers dressed him in royal purple to make fun of him. We believe that by humbly accepting the painful purple of his Passion, Jesus was able to correct the ugly yellow of our selfishness and sin. Changing it into the glorious white of God’s adopted children. All this we know. At least in theory. A theory we happily mark by the changing of liturgical colours.

Which is actually a fairly easy thing to do. Especially since we have a conscientious sacristan and her capable assistants to do it for us. But what about the deeper reality that these symbols are meant to signify? The transformation, not just of the colour of our vestments, but of the texture of our hearts. How to change hearts that may have been broken by the painful sadness of the Cross, into hearts renewed and made bold again by the joyful hope of Easter? Isn’t this the question our scriptures invite us to ponder today?

The marvellous transition from the painful purple of the Passion to the joyous white of the Resurrection. Isn’t this what Peter is describing to the crowd, on the Day of Pentecost, in the first reading? How, through the Resurrection of Christ, and the descent of the Holy Spirit, he and his companions have received power to conquer their grief and trauma, their guilt and shame, their fear and anxiety. So as to courageously proclaim the Good News. But, again, how does this actually happen? Is it really as easy as changing one’s vestments, or using a different-coloured toothpaste? Requiring no more than a gritting of the teeth, or a clenching of the fist? Something we can accomplish on our own? If so, why did we pray as we did at the start of this Mass? We asked God to enable us to exult in renewed youthfulness of spirit, so that rejoicing now in the glory of our adoption, we may look forward in confident hope to the rejoicing of the day of resurrection? Doesn’t our need to ask imply that what we seek is a grace, a gift from God? So how to go about receiving it?

Two words from the responsorial psalm––which Peter quotes in the first reading––provide us with valuable insight. You will show me the path of life, the psalmist says, the fullness of joy in your presence… Path and presence. In order to receive the grace of Easter, there is a path we need to traverse. A way marked by the presence of the Crucified and Risen One. Who comes to us not only bearing the gift we seek, but also helping us to receive it. Isn’t this the experience of the two disciples in the gospel? The reading begins by telling us that Cleopas and his companion are on the way. They are walking along a particular path. How might we describe this path? Geographically, it’s the road leading to a town about half a day’s journey from Jerusalem. But isn’t this also a spiritual path? One that we have already encountered before? Isn’t it recognisable as part of that road that Jesus invited us to walk with him all through Lent, and especially in Holy Week? Isn’t the Road to Emmaus simply an extension of the Way of the Cross? Isn’t this why it’s no surprise that this path should be graced by the Lord’s consoling and encouraging presence? Could it be that Jesus comes to walk with his friends, because they are walking in his footsteps?

And it’s helpful for us to pay attention to how the disciples do this. How they engage in certain practices, which help them remain on the Way. First, they feel safe and comfortable enough to surface the confusion that still burdens their hearts, and to share it wth each other. Then they are led to ponder the Scriptures. Allowing God’s Word to help them realise that it was ordained, or necessary, that the Christ should suffer. For it is by doing so that he becomes the spotless lamb that sheds its precious blood to set us free. And, finally, they press the Lord to stay, or to abide, to remain, with them, as they break bread together… The surfacing of burdens, the pondering of scripture, the breaking of bread… Aren’t these also the practices in which we are engaging at this Mass?

Path, presence and practices. This is how we come not only to receive the gift we seek, but also to share it with others. Just as our brave and beloved Pope is doing now on the world stage. For unlike purple toothpaste––which is marketed as no more than a beauty hack, a mere cosmetic, an agent of superficial change––what the Lord offers is something far deeper. No less than the transformation of hearts: from broken to burning to bold. Sisters and brothers, what can we do to help one another better receive and rejoice in this precious gift this Easter?