Introduction
I want to achieve two things in this sermon, and for clarity, I will state them from the beginning.
First, I am increasingly convinced that the Christian religion, as it is practiced today in many, if not most, churches, differs significantly from the Christian faith described in the New Testament. We have replaced a person with a book, and I want to show that the book itself often, if not always, points you away from the book and toward the person of Jesus Christ.
Second, I want to share a biblical-theological perspective on the Eucharist so that we can develop a deeper appreciation for this meal we Anglicans (and many others) share every week.
The Religion of the New Testament
To reiterate what I’ve said before, the Christian religion, as it is presented in the New Testament, is not about a book. At the Great Commission, Jesus does not say, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to the books you all are going to write. Go therefore, write those books, and make disciples based on them.” Jesus says:
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Matt 28:18–20, ESV).
The book of Hebrews, in its stunning introduction, does not say, “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his apostles.” No. It states:
Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son (Heb 1:1–2).
These are just two examples, and I could continue, but the claim of the New Testament is not, “God’s going to write some books and letters through the Apostles, and you all had better pay attention to them.” The claim of the New Testament is that in these last days God has spoken to us in his Son. In this Son, “the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” (Col 1:19), and he is “the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature” (Heb 1:3). To have seen Jesus was to have seen the Father (John 14:9).
While these examples influenced my thinking that the New Testament points away from itself to Christ,1 nothing in the New Testament was more eye-opening for me in this regard than the appearance of the risen Christ on the road to Emmaus.
The Road to Emmaus
To save time, I’ll summarize what happens. On the day of the resurrection, Jesus meets two disciples who are walking to Emmaus, but they don’t recognize him. That’s important.
As they walk with Jesus, the two disciples keep discussing what has happened in Jerusalem over the past three days. When Jesus overhears their conversation, he asks what they’re talking about. Cleopas answers:
“Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” (Luke 24:18)
The question is loaded with irony, of course, because Jesus is the one to whom all of these things have happened. Jesus doubles down on the ruse and replies:
“What things?” (Luke 24:19)
They reply and tell him that they are talking about Jesus of Nazareth, a prophet mighty in word and deed, who was condemned to death by the chief priests and rulers and was crucified. Then they add:
“But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” (Luke 24:21)
For those first disciples, the death of Jesus was a tragedy. They knew he was a prophet. They thought he was the Messiah. They thought he would be the one to redeem Israel. But he died, and for them in that moment, it meant the story had come to a sudden and tragic conclusion.
They do note that it has been three days since the crucifixion, and some women went to the tomb early in the morning. They didn’t find the body and instead claimed to have seen a vision of angels saying that Jesus was alive. These two disciples clearly don’t believe that testimony, because if they did, they wouldn’t be leaving Jerusalem. If they truly thought Jesus was alive, they would have stayed right there in the city, waiting to see him. But they’re heading home.
And Jesus responds:
“O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself (Luke 24:25–27).
Call it a sermon, a Bible study, or whatever you prefer. I am certain that no one has ever opened the Bible and explained its meaning better than Jesus does at this moment. The risen Christ is standing there with them, opening up the word of God better than anyone has ever done in the history of humanity.
And guess what happens?
Nothing.
Nothing happens.
Later, the disciples will say that during this moment their hearts “burned within them” (Luke 24:32), so perhaps something is stirring. But importantly, even after he opens the Scriptures to them, the two disciples still don’t recognize Jesus. The risen Christ is standing right there with them, and they still cannot see him for who he is.
Thanks be to God, the story doesn’t end there. They keep walking, and eventually Jesus and the two disciples sit down and share a meal.
When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them (Luke 24:30).
Took, blessed, broke, gave.
The same actions Jesus performed in the Upper Room on the night he was betrayed.
And the very next words of Luke’s Gospel say:
And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him (Luke 24:31).
Their eyes were opened.
If you know your biblical theology, you can hear what is happening in that language. Just as the people of Israel, these disciples have not had eyes to see, ears to hear, or hearts to understand. But in this moment, in the breaking of the bread, their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.
A bit later, these disciples meet the other disciples and share their experience on the road to Emmaus. Luke summarizes what they reported like this:
Then they told what had happened on the road, and how (Luke 24:35, NRSV).
So let me ask you.
Based on the Bible, where is Jesus Christ made known: in the Scriptures or in the breaking of the bread?
The disciples didn’t say they recognized him as he opened the Scriptures, even though he gave them the finest sermon ever preached. They say he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
This passage is why, as much as I love and reverence the Bible and want to teach it to anyone willing to listen to me, this church will never be merely a “people of the book,” because the book points me to a person, and the book tells me that that person is made known in the breaking of the bread and not in the Scriptures alone, even if Christ himself is the one opening and explaining them.
To be clear, that is not to say the book is unimportant, far from it. But the book only gives you knowledge of Jesus in the way we might know about other historical figures. Knowing someone, however, is different than having knowledge about them. The book gives you knowledge. The table, the breaking of the bread, invites you to share your life with Christ, to take his life inside you, and to know him, not just know about him.
Knowing Him in the Breaking of Bread
All of the Gospels, each in its own way, claim that the fullest revelation of God to the world was in the person of Jesus Christ. That revelation becomes clearest not at Christmas or even at Easter, but on Good Friday. The God who created heaven and earth is most vividly and authentically revealed as Jesus Christ dies on a Roman cross outside the city.
And when Jesus wanted to help his disciples understand what was going to happen to him on Good Friday, he didn’t launch into a doctrinal exposition or start rattling off atonement theories. What he gave them was a meal, a meal that, to be abundantly clear, was loaded with theological context, but it was still a meal, not a theological treatise.
So then, how is Christ made known in this meal? What follows is only scratching the surface.2
First, Christ is made known in this meal because it is a Passover meal, and he is our true Passover lamb. This meal reminds us that those marked by his blood as his people will be “passed over” when judgment comes. Because of what Christ has done, on the last great day, we will be saved from death just as he was.
Second, Christ is made known in this meal because, until the day he comes again, it perpetually proclaims his death in the world in which he has risen from the dead. Paul writes:
For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes (1 Cor 11:26).
Notice the wording: not “his death,” but “the Lord’s death.” Through this meal, we proclaim not only that Jesus has died, but that he is Lord of heaven and earth. And if he has died, how could he come again? Unless, of course, death could not hold him, and he is alive forevermore. This meal makes Christ known to us because it perpetually proclaims that the Lord of heaven and earth has died, is risen, and will come again.
Third, Christ is made known in this meal because this meal is his body and blood. Jesus says as much, and Paul repeats it. We don’t have to know how it becomes his body and blood, and I suggest we shouldn’t try to guess. There is no need to import Aristotelian metaphysics to understand what is happening in the Eucharist. Whatever is happening occurs by the power of the Holy Spirit as an act of participation in the life of Christ. Paul writes:
The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? (1 Cor 10:16).
Sharing in this meal is to participate in Jesus’ body and blood, which should come as no surprise since Jesus himself said:
I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh (John 6:48–51).
Fourth, Christ is made known in this meal because to make bread and wine, grapes must be crushed, and wheat must be broken. Notice again what the disciples say:
Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread (Luke 24:35).
It’s not the meal itself; it’s the breaking. To make the meal, grapes and wheat must be broken and crushed. To dispense bread from a loaf, it must be broken into pieces. We are reenacting that crushing. Every time we crush grapes to make wine, every time we break wheat down to make bread, every time we fracture a loaf to serve it to his people, we are saying that we cannot know Jesus without remembering that:
He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed (Isa 53:5).
And what more shall I say, for time would fail me to tell of Melchizedek, manna, the Bread of the Presence, the Messianic Banquet, the Isaianic feast in which death is swallowed up forever, and our Lord standing at the door waiting for his people to knock so he can open it, invite them in, and share table fellowship with him. And I haven’t even begun to speak of how the Eucharist, if it truly is what we believe it to be, serves as proof that the things of this world can be filled with the glory and presence of God without being destroyed or consumed. Every Sunday, the new creation sits right there on the table. And then you take that new creation, make it part of you, let it energize you, and then you are sent back out into the world.
Conclusion
All of this is to say that this meal, for all these reasons and more, is where our Lord is made known to his people. But what you’ll notice, I hope, is that I’ve explained how Jesus is made known by pointing back to Scripture again and again. Scripture gives us context. Scripture offers us theology. Scripture presents models. Scripture provides information, and you cannot truly claim to know someone unless you know something about them. But that knowledge, as valuable as it is, is not the same as really knowing someone and participating in their life.
So let us thank God for Scripture. When we read and study it, as we absolutely should, our hearts burn within us. There is truth in the book that calls out to us. But that burning only gets us so far.
The opened and declared word of God is always pointing us to a person.
And as the Scripture says, that person is made known in the breaking of the bread, so let us keep the feast.
Amen.
Life Group Discussion Guide
Intro Prayer
Heavenly Father, as we gather today, we ask that you open our hearts and minds to what you want to teach us. We admit that it’s easy to know about Jesus without truly knowing him. As we discuss your Word, draw us beyond just information and into participation. May your Holy Spirit be present in this conversation, and may our eyes be opened to see Jesus in new ways. In his name, we pray, Amen.
Ice Breaker
Think of someone you know well, not just know about. What is the difference between what you could learn about them from reading their biography and what you actually know because you’ve shared life with them?
Questions
In the Emmaus story, the disciples walk and talk with Jesus for miles while he explains the Scriptures to them, and they still don’t recognize him. What does that tell you about the limits of biblical explanation on its own?
The sermon argues that many churches have replaced a person with a book. What does that look like in practice? Do you agree?
What’s the difference between knowing about Jesus and truly knowing him? Where do you feel that gap most in your own life?
Paul writes that we proclaim “the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor 11:26). The text doesn’t say “his death” but “the Lord’s death.” What does that title add to what we’re declaring when we share this meal?
Paul describes the Eucharist as “participation” in the body and blood of Christ (1 Cor 10:16). What does participation suggest that mere remembrance does not?
Christ is made known in the breaking, not just the meal. Grapes are crushed. Wheat is ground. Bread is torn. How does that imagery influence how you receive communion?
How do Scripture and the Eucharist complement each other? What does each provide that the other cannot?
Life Application
Before you receive communion this week, pause for a moment and think about what you are really doing. You’re not just remembering a past event. You are declaring that the Lord of heaven and earth died, rose, and is coming again. You are participating in his body and blood. Ask yourself: what would it look like to bring that awareness to the table, and to carry it with you when you leave?
Key Takeaways
The Christian faith is not primarily about a book; it is about a person to whom the book points.
Even Jesus’ own exposition of Scripture did not open the disciples’ eyes. They recognized him in the breaking of the bread.
The Eucharist makes Christ known as our Passover lamb, proclaims his death and lordship, allows us to participate in his body and blood, and reenacts the crushing and breaking by which he gave his life for the world.
Scripture gives us knowledge of Jesus. The table invites us to share life with him.
The two are not in competition. Scripture points us to the person, and the person is made known in the breaking of the bread.
Closing Prayer
Heavenly Father, thank you for revealing yourself to us through your Word and at your table. Keep us from being content with just knowing about Jesus when you are inviting us to know him truly. As we leave this place, may the Scriptures burn in our hearts, and may our eyes be open to see him in the breaking of the bread. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.
Does the New Testament even conceive of a “New Testament” as we conceive it today?
This sermon is one of the few I’ve ever preached that I think genuinely needs a part two.