Christ has risen! Alleluia! Even though we know the whole story today, Good Friday is still too close for unmitigated joy. And, if we are wise, we will find a companion to share the sorrow of these last days, as we set our feet toward Emmaus.

Or, we could escape the sorrow we feel by heading for the distractions and lure of a local Cabaret, as the song invites: (incomplete)

“Cabaret”
By Joe Masteroff

What good is sitting alone in your room?
Come hear the music play
Life is a Cabaret, old chum.
Come to the Cabaret.

Put down the knitting,
The book and the broom.
Time for a holiday.
Life is a cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret.

Come taste the wine,
Come hear the band.
Come blow your horn,
Start celebrating:
Right this way,
Your table’s waiting.

No use permitting
Some prophet of doom
To wipe every smile away.
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret!

The problem is, of course, that the song’s Cabaret, on the eve of Nazi Germany’s rise to power, held no peace for dining, only the prospect of war’s suffering and fear, as soldiers circled the patrons in arrogant superiority.

Not so at Emmaus. The two disciples felt their hearts burning within them, and they begged Jesus to tarry a while, for they sensed in His quiet bearing a light at the end of their dark tunnel of presumed lost faith. Where could they go in Jesus’ absence? Who could fill His place? At least, this Stranger provided some semblance of hope and comfort, assuring them that what had happened had been foretold in the Scriptures.

With compassion, Jesus consented to dine with them, and in His Divine presence, their eyes were opened. Dorothy Day spoke for disciples of all time: “We knew Him in the breaking of the bread, and we are not alone any more.”

The disciples returned to Jerusalem to announce the astonishing news to the others. Luke Timothy Johnson, in the study of the Gospel of Luke, found in the Sacra Pagina, sums up the effect of Jesus’ appearances this way:

Finally, Luke shows us how the process of telling and interpreting these diverse experiences begins not only to build a community, but actually begins
to create the community itself. The scattered fragments that have whirled in different directions (the women, Peter, those who had run to the tomb, the men on the road) are being gathered together in one place with one shared story, which is, “ The Lord has truly risen.” They are ready for the full encounter.

No less than they are we offered by grace, “the full encounter,” and are prompted to act upon it. In the Spring edition of Spiritual Life, Barbara A. Kathe tells of meeting a wise and prayerful woman who had done just that.

As a young person, Liv had wandered through many dark alleys in life: drugs, alcohol, promiscuity, finally flirting with madness and suicide. Eventually, she became bored and began to be consumed with ambition, blind to the needs and talents of others, as she climbed the ladder to a position of chief operating officer of a large international corporation. Yet, every now and then, she felt God’s tugging at her heart, and she began to pray, returned to the sacraments, and discovered Him living within her and in others.

Today, Kathe tells us, the woman lives alone in the obscurity of a small coastal village near the west cliffs of Ireland, but her experience of God’s love remains intense, personal, and far reaching , far removed from Cabarets that offer only superficial pleasure to hide the deepest longings for God.

Lord, please help us not to tarry in the Cabarets of our lives, but to seek our peace where You are to be found. Happy, Blessed Easter to each of you and those dear to you. Amen.

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