Sermon for Third Sunday of Easter
April 26, 2020
Now on that same day two of Jesus' disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
I have to tell you a secret. The gospel this morning is one of my absolute favorite bible readings (I’m probably not supposed to have favorites but…) – The two post resurrection readings that I love the most are this story – the journey of Cleopas and his friend to Emmaus accompanied by Jesus. The other one is what I love to call the barbecue of the beach. Some people call it the story of Peter’s Primacy but I like the barbecue on the beach. You know the one where the disciples have gone fishing only to come back to shore and find the resurrected Jesus preparing a breakfast for them over a camp fire. I also like the story of Thomas because he is so like me in wanting to see proof – at least the science geek part of me. But I love these stories. The revealing of Jesus to his disciples in ways that we can literally taste.
In both stories, this one and the barbecue of the beach, the disciples are downtrodden. They are sure that this whole new movement that they were part of has come to an end. It seems that they are ready to call it quits. To go back to doing whatever they did before they followed this itinerate Rabbi. Heading back to Emmaus, or in the other case going fishing.
Cleopas – and his companion, …the fact that Luke does not name the companion drives me crazy by the way. But is this case not knowing the identity might be a way to enter into the story. Perhaps we can imagine that we are the other disciple. We could read the Story that Cleopas and Rik, or Cleopas and Lynell, or Anne or any one of us are on that road to Emmaus. We can imagine being that other disciple because we have been, or are, on that road.
That Road filled with despair over the events that have taken place. Only wanting to talk through it and try to make sense of it. With the required physical distancing many people are walking a road of despair.
I have a long time friend – one I have known since kindergarten – who is a nurse in New York City. She usually works in the pediatric Oncology Ward at Sloan Kettering in New York – as well as being an on-call Nurse Supervisor at a small Long Island hospital. She has told me that because no one is allowed into visit patients that the nurses and some of the doctors have been the only ones around the dying. They have been using facetime on their personal phones so that families can say goodbye. Some of the nurses and doctors have even been offering the prayers of last rites for the dying.
My experience has not been that extreme. I am still able to see my dad because I am logged at his care facility as an essential caregiver. But it was hard when we was recently taken to the ER and ultimately admitted not to have anyone there. We were lucky – he was not hospitalized due to the COVID-19 virus but due to heart issues and now has a pacemaker and is doing well. But I still miss our family gatherings – and it is looking more and more like we may have to postpone my sister’s wedding.
There was another poignant moment this week when a Facebook memory from five years ago popped up. It was a picture of me holding one of my former employee’s very young baby. This employee’s wife recently gave birth to a new baby and they told me that they would love to have a picture of me with their new baby to match the one with their now five year old. But it will have to wait. Wait until it is safe for us to gather once again. Safe for me to get my baby fix.
In hard times we can take comfort in returning to things that we love to do. I have many friends who have been baking all kinds of breads and treats. And then posting pictures on Facebook – which is not helpful when I am trying to continue of a weight loss program! We also find it helpful to be in community with like-minded people. Many of us need to talk out the difficulties.
That is what is happening on the Road to Emmaus. Cleopas and his companion are trying to make sense of Good Friday as they walk. And they find themselves with a third companion. A companion who asks the open ended question. A question that lets them empty their concerns. And in response Jesus gently reminds them of all that he had taught them. Jesus gently reminds them of all that they had learned from the Prophets. He opens their hearts to the truth. And yet they still do not recognize that it is Jesus. Their grief is too great.
Matt Skinner, a preacher I follow said, “I’m so glad that Jesus doesn’t reveal himself to Cleopas and his companion right away but waits. Why does he wait? Jesus is neither testing, scolding, nor humiliating the shell-shocked couple. He is, literally, journeying with them. There he is, present, as they narrate their disappointment and confusion. He does not cut them off. He knows that explanations will not cure their foolishness and slowness to believe.
The time will come to redirect his friends, but first he lets them proceed one heavy step after another.”[1]
When they reach their destination that trickster Jesus makes as if he is continuing down the road. And as good Jews the two offer hospitality because it is getting dark. They are thankful that this stranger has listened to them and allowed them to see their hurting hearts and to provide some healing. And as they sit down to dine Jesus did something very familiar – one of the last things he had done with his disciples. He broke bread. And in that instance their eye were opened and they recognized that the God of Love had been walking along with them.
Sometimes it is hard to see that the God of Love is with us. When we are in the midst of despair it can be hard. During this time of physical distancing it can be hard to hear God. Hard to see Jesus walking the road with us. We are social creatures. We worship together, we dine together, we make sense of the world together. And now this worldwide Pandemic has physically isolated many of us. As a worshipping community we desire to leave lent behind us and to gather and shout our alleluias. We desire to gather together and break the break and drink from the cup.
It is strange preaching with three other people in the church and a green light of a web camera. It is hard not to see the reactions of all of you as I preach. IT is hard not to be able to give out bag lunches to our homeless neighbors. It is hard not to sit down and provide food for the hungry after our Wednesday and Sunday services.
What comforts me is seeing that God is indeed walking with us through this difficult time. I see it in the number of people that we are able to reach on a Sunday through the imperfect live streaming of services – something we are working at getting better. I see it in the acts of kindness that people are doing for each other. I see it in the miracle of technology that allows us to virtually gather for coffee hour, to see each others faces. I see it in being able to continue to take yoga classes – don’t worry we are not breaking the rules. Yoga is not in person but also in a zoom community.
This Easter is not like any other that I have experienced. This Easter we find ourselves on a Road to Emmaus – we see empty churches, empty restaurants, and empty freeways. We may even have gotten to the point where we don’t want to hear another press briefing or read anymore news until we are free of this pandemic. We are isolated in ways that many of us have never experienced. Like Cloepas and his companion we are on a journey of lament.
Matt Skinner reminded me that “Lament takes time. And sometimes lament is the journey that leads us [...] to recognition and new life.
That new life walks alongside us, patiently, whether we know it or not.”
The good news is that we will gather together again. The good news is that the God of Love is patiently walking this journey alongside us – even if we don’t realize it. God’s incarnation means that we can be sure that God knows the grief of walking alone. God knows the tomb that isolation can feel like. The God of Love will accompany us on this journey and be there to warm our hearts and open our eyes when we least expect it.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen.
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