April 6, 2008 3rd Sunday of Easter (Acts 2:14a, 36-41; Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19; 1 Peter 1:17-23; Luke 24:13-35 )
They were leaving town.
They were walking away.
They were going home.
Maybe you’ve done that, or wanted to. What dreams did you used to have? What did you used to believe about the world? --About people? What did you hope would happen?
Did you dream of a more interesting life than the one you’ve had? Did you hope your marriage would be sweeter than it has been? Did you hope to be the one whose kids were well-adjusted, or the one who didn’t get cancer? Well, maybe you did. And that was okay.
Perhaps you believed that, at heart, people wanted to be kind. Maybe you hoped we’d stop global warming in time to save the planet from more suffering. Or, did you expect our country would operate in accordance with its Constitution and Bill of Rights? Maybe you did. And now?
I’ve heard this elegant Emmaus resurrection story so many times, and never stopped very long to consider why those two disciples were on their way to Emmaus. But this week, I went to a continuing education event where we studied this passage. And my colleagues, those other disciples of Jesus, helped me notice that these Emmaus-bound disciples probably were giving up!
Maybe you noticed this a long time ago. In the story, the two “looked sad.” They called Jesus of Nazareth a “prophet,” not Messiah. “We had hoped,” they said—“We had hoped that he was the one to redeem
What are the things in your life which cause you to lose hope? Does it happen in the moments when something warm inside of you suddenly turns cold? This world has a way of trampling upon the desires of our heart, desires we’ve kept so secret—sometimes even from ourselves—that they are tender, and almost silent in the trampling. Ugly things happen, and we are taught—and we teach our children, sometimes—that the ugly things are “reality.” And yet, that’s not a word we usually use to describe beautiful things! (“Mom/Dad, look at the beautiful butterflies!” “--Well, that’s reality, kid.”)
Sometimes, we just get worn down over time. Did you hope we’d have fewer funerals at
The disciples had allowed their hopes to come out of hiding, when they first met and followed Jesus. They had some expectations of him, and he didn’t live up to those. In fact, he failed utterly, and died shamefully. So they went home. They gave up. They went away.
And here’s the thing: the risen Christ didn’t wait for them to repent and come back to
Even on our way out of town, Jesus meets us, and accompanies us, never giving up.
Why they didn’t recognize him at once is not completely clear, although for two such disillusioned individuals to be blinded, as well, doesn’t seem too surprising. The unknown stranger listened to those two people like some kind of well-trained therapist, just letting them tell their whole painful story. Then, he offered a kind of diagnosis—and here, I have to say, he’s a little less like a well-trained therapist, although I always hear gentleness in his reproof: “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!”
Patiently, as he walked with them, he “walked” them through a divinely-led Bible study. Imagine that! A Bible study led by the risen Christ himself! Yet, still their eyes weren’t fully opened. They still couldn’t recognize Jesus. They needed something more.
Finally, after about seven miles of walking, they reached home. It was, by the way, probably a shared home, because it’s likely the two disciples were a married couple, a man and a woman; the fact that only one of them is named and speaks in this story is a little old-fashioned clue to that. So, they reached home, and Middle Eastern custom insisted that they offer hospitality to their fellow traveler; in fact, they were supposed to offer, and then he was supposed to refuse, and then they were supposed to insist—which is just what happened. Jesus doesn’t force his company upon anyone.
They allowed their guest to give the customary table blessing, and that did it. Suddenly, in the words, the voice, the gestures of the risen Jesus at table, they recognized what seemed impossible. They recognized that hope was not dead. They recognized the One who loved them, who’d been with them all that time.
As you move along the path of your life, or as we move forward as the community that is NVLC, there will be times when you want to give up. You may feel your courage leave you; or you may find yourself saying discouraging things to others. We have all these hopes and plans as a congregation; and chances are that they won’t all unfold exactly in the way each of us had thought!
And yet—and yet, even at the moments when we are disgruntled, or even filled with despair, a new reality is already present. It accompanies us patiently. At the table of the risen Christ, we recognize it. All our Bible studies and hard work, while they may shape us in vital ways, do not accomplish as much revelation as the blessing of Christ when he feeds us.
A new Easter reality is present, even in moments of despair. And even the smallest amount of trust in this truth begins to transform the world. Did not your hearts burn within you? Already, then, God was at work.
