Not
too long ago I had a presbytery-related meeting and the quickest way to get
there was to take Hwy 68 to Louisburg and catch 69 Hwy. Most of my Kansas City metropolitan
activities and appointments are on the west side, so my usual route north is
169 Hwy. This particular day, I
got involved in work here at the church and didn’t manage to leave as early as
I had hoped for my meeting. So, when I left, I was distracted and anxious—distracted
by my unfinished business and anxious about getting to the meeting on
time. I got in my car, turned out
of the church parking lot and before I was at the end of Peoria, I was turning
over in my mind all the things I still needed to do. I got on Hwy 169 north, thinking about how I would get
everything done and I drove right past the Louisburg/68 exit. I missed my turn! Has that ever happened to you? Have you ever been so worried about a
presentation at work, so concerned about the discord between your children, or
stewing over an injustice done to you that you missed your turn—got off track
in your traveling?
When Kevin and I travel to someplace
new, one of us acts as navigator while the other drives. Generally, we map out the route we’re going
to travel before we get started.
And, we have cell phones with map apps, so you’d think we’d always get
to where we’re going without any directional mishaps, right? Wrong! As we’re driving along, sometimes we get so engrossed in our
conversation that even though the navigator has stated what freeway exit we
want, the driver forgets to look for that exit. Or as we’re driving along, the
navigator forgets to look at the street signs to help with the next turn. Sometimes, our conversations distract
us—getting us off track in our traveling.
Has that ever happened to you? Have you ever gone off route because you
were talking with someone else?
I
think this is what is happening with Cleopas and his unnamed companion in
today’s text. Returning home from their
annual Passover pilgrimage to Jerusalem, they are so engrossed in their
conversation that they do not realize another traveler is walking beside
them. It is Sunday afternoon as
they travel from Jerusalem to Emmaus—perhaps just 6 hours since the women found
Jesus’ tomb empty. Cleopas and his unnamed companion were followers of Jesus.
Were, past tense, for it is all over now. Witnesses to Jesus’ ministry of
healing, teaching, and welcoming, they had “believed that God was present in
Jesus’ word and works”[1]
and like so many other Passover pilgrims who joined in the raucous celebration
that was Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, they believed “that God’s
kingdom of justice was about to dawn.
That was the previous Sunday—the Sunday we celebrate as Palm
Sunday. Then came the crucifixion
and the shattering of their hopes.
Human wisdom says, ‘While there’s life, there’s hope.’ The death of
Jesus had been the death of [their] hope.”[2]
Do you know what that’s like? Does
anyone here know what it’s like to have their hope extinguished?
Engrossed
in their conversation, devastated by their shattered dreams, Cleopas and his
unnamed companion do not realize another traveler has fallen into step with
them. So they are startled when he
asks, “What are you talking about?
What has you so concerned?” It is Jesus, but they do not recognize him. Why not? Have you ever felt blindsided by distress? Has your eyesight ever been made myopic
by your misery? Has your wounded
heart ever blinded you? Jesus asks them, “What are you talking about? What has you so concerned?” Cleopas and
his unnamed companion respond incredulously. “How can you have been in Jerusalem these last days and not
know what has happened? Jesus, the
teacher whose wisdom was freeing; Jesus, the healer whose hands wrought
miracles; Jesus, the prophet whose life was a call to justice; Jesus the one we
hoped would redeem Israel has been betrayed, arrested, crucified, and
buried. Jesus is dead, and with
him—all our hopes.”
Yes,
it seems for Cleopas and his unnamed companion, just as it seemed for Mary
Magdalene at the tomb earlier that morning, the story has ended. But Jesus makes them turn the page to
see that the story continues.
Jesus makes them turn the page by taking them back through the law of
Moses and the voices of the prophets. Jesus takes them back through their Hebrew scriptures to
illuminate Jesus’ life, ministry, death, and yes—resurrection. Traveling incognito with Cleopas and
his unnamed companion, Jesus reveals “the fundamental pattern of the entire
biblical”[3]
story is a “pattern of life emerging from death.”[4] “From the original chaos, God creates
life. From the slavery of Egypt
come freedom and a homeland. From
the destruction of exile comes a renewed people.”[5]
And from the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus, comes God’s grace and
the in-breaking of God’s kingdom on earth. Now the travelers are engrossed in a
different conversation, a conversation not of shattered dreams but of
re-kindling hope. Spellbound by the words of the stranger, Cleopas and his
unnamed companion listen, question, reflect, and discuss. They engage with the scriptures deeper
than ever before.
Their
hearts hungering for more, arriving at Emmaus, Cleopas and his unnamed
companion invite the still unrecognized Jesus to linger at their home. As they
sit together to share the evening meal, Jesus takes the bread, blesses it,
breaks it and gives it to them. This familiar formula—taking, blessing,
breaking, and giving, stirs in them an awareness of Jesus’ presence, “yet they
now know him as the risen Lord, whose own body has been given for them.”[6] Their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he
disappeared from their sight.[7] Turning to one another they exclaim, “Weren't our hearts on fire when he spoke
to us along the road and when he explained the scriptures for us?"[8] Both head and heart combine to
experience the risen Christ. Nourished
by Word—Jesus explaining the scriptures as they traveled—as well as by
Sacrament—the sharing of the bread that represents the sharing of God’s
grace—nourished by Word and Sacrament, Cleopas and his unnamed companion “feel
alive; their hearts are renewed.
The witness of the women at the empty tomb is now their testimony too. In the breaking of the bread,”[9]
it is as if light rays from the dawn of the resurrection have reached seven
miles from Jerusalem—all the way to Emmaus. “Their burning hearts illumine their blind eyes and quicken
their weary souls for a seven-mile nighttime run”[10]
back to Jerusalem. “For what they had experienced must be shared. News this good must be shared.”[11]
Do you know what that’s
like—having good news to share? News so good it cannot wait until morning? News so good it cannot wait another
hour?
Today’s
scripture is not just a story about 2 disciples meeting the risen Christ on
Easter afternoon on the road to Emmaus.
Today’s text is also a story about the early Christian community. “After
Easter, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the community of Jesus’
disciples reread their Bible—[their Hebrew Bible—what we call the Old
Testament]—with new eyes, and found that it testified to them of Christ. The report of Jesus’ life and
teachings, his martyr death, even the report of the empty tomb had not made the
reality of the Christ event present to them. But as they worshiped together around the Lord’s Table, the
meaning of the Christian faith and the reality of the risen Lord became
real. Scripture and [Sacrament]
were the setting [for] and means of reinterpreting the story of Jesus, now seen
in a new light.”[12]
Today’s
scripture is not just Cleopas and his unnamed companion’s story. Today’s
scripture is also our story.
Each of us can slide into the role of Cleopas’ unnamed companion. For hasn’t each of us experienced
shattered dreams? Doesn’t each of
us desire to stoke the embers of hope and see them re-kindled. Doesn’t each of us yearn for our hearts
to burn at the presence of Christ traveling with us?
Today’s
scripture is not just the 2 disciples’ story. It is our story as well. For, we—this gathered faith
community—are the pair of travelers on the road to Emmaus. This story moves from isolation to
community. Through the power of
the Holy Spirit, we read and re-read our Bibles with one another—listening,
questioning, reflecting, and discussing.
We read and re-read our Bibles together in light of our shared Christ
experiences, and our hearts burn as the Word—Jesus the Christ—is revealed to
us. At the table, “broken bread nurses our broken faith.”[13]
From the table, broken bread “can nourish the courage we need”[14]
to shed our anxieties and doubts. No longer distracted by concerns or fears,
may we not get off track on our faith journey. May our feasting on the bread of life and our sharing of the
bread and cup—may our engaging the Word and celebrating the sacrament illumine
our pilgrimage of faith.
[1] M. Eugene Boring and Fred
B. Craddock. The People’s New Testament Commentary. Louisville:
Westminster John Knox Press, 2004, p. 280
[2] Ibid.
[3] Donald Senior, “Luke 24: 13
– 35 Exegetical Perspective,” in Feasting
on the Word, Year A, volume 2.
Edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p. 421.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid, p. 421 & 423.
[6] Molly T. Marshall, “Luke
24: 13 – 35 Theological Perspective,” in Feasting
on the Word, Year A, volume 2.
Edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p. 420.
[7] Luke 24: 31 Common English
Bible
[8] Luke 24: 32 Common English
Bible
[9] Shannon Michael Pater, “Luke
24: 13 – 35 Pastoral
Perspective,” in Feasting on the Word, Year A, volume
2. Edited by David L. Bartlett and
Barbara Brown Taylor.
Louisville: Westminster
John Knox Press, 2010, p. 422.
[10] Ibid.
[11] Marshall, p. 422.
[13] Pater, p. 422.
[14] Ibid.
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