“Walking Through It” – Sermon for May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014
Luke 24: 13-35 That same day two of Jesus’ followers were walking to the village of Emmaus, seven miles from Jerusalem. As they walked along they were talking about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things, Jesus himself suddenly came and began walking with them. But God kept them from recognizing him. Jesus asked them, “What are you discussing so intently as you walk along?”
They stopped short, sadness written across their faces. Then one of them, Cleopas, replied, “You must be the only person in Jerusalem who hasn’t heard about all the things that have happened there the last few days.” “What things?” Jesus asked. “The things that happened to Jesus, the man from Nazareth. He was a prophet who did powerful miracles, and he was a mighty teacher in the eyes of God and all the people. But our leading priests and other religious leaders handed him over to be condemned to death, and they crucified him. We had hoped Jesus was the Messiah who had come to rescue Israel. This all happened three days ago. Then some women from our group of his followers were at his tomb early this morning, and they came back with an amazing report. They said his body was missing, and they had seen angels who told them Jesus is alive! Some of our men ran out to see, and sure enough, his body was gone, just as the women had said.”
Then Jesus said to them, “You foolish people! You find it so hard to believe all that the prophets wrote in the Scriptures. Wasn’t it clearly predicted that the Messiah would have to suffer all these things before entering his glory?” Then Jesus took them through the writings of Moses and all the prophets, explaining from all the Scriptures the things concerning himself. By this time they were nearing Emmaus and the end of their journey. Jesus acted as if he were going on, but they begged him, “Stay the night with us, since it is getting late.” So he went home with them. As they sat down to eat, Jesus took the bread and blessed it. Then he broke it and gave it to them. Suddenly, their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And at that moment he disappeared! They said to each other, “Didn’t our hearts burn within us as he talked with us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us?” And within the hour they were on their way back to Jerusalem. There they found the eleven disciples and the others who had gathered with them, who said, “The Lord has really risen! He has appeared to Peter. Then the two from Emmaus told their story of how Jesus had appeared to them as they were walking along the road, and how they had recognized him as he was breaking the bread.
“Walking Through It” – Sermon for May 11, 2014
by Reverend Doreen Oughton
I am FB friends with several people here, and it was through FB that I learned my dears Ken and Ellie are thinking about getting a cat. Which is wonderful, because I have three, and would be happy to part with one. Now she’s talking about going over to Second Chance Animal Shelter to get a cat, so I might just swing by some day with one of mine, and see if I can get her to fall in love with it. What do you think, Ellie?
Now it was also on FB that I learned, about 6 weeks ago that the cat they’d had for 11 years – Oscar – had died. Ellie posted a lovely tribute to him, a poem called Rainbow Bridge, and some pictures, and some words about how he’d been her baby. There were 23 responses to this post. People said how sorry they were about the death. Some talked about loving Ken and Ellie had been to Oscar, and people sent prayers and hugs. I said similar things on the phone and in person, and when I saw her I gave her a big hug. Over these last 6 weeks she has posted a few other times pictures of Oscar, and said how much she misses him. Again people responded with sympathy, and kind, supportive words.
And now, six weeks later, the sorrow has lessened a bit. I suspect Ken and Ellie are remembering not so much the sadness of losing Oscar, but the joy they had in giving him love. They are remembering how nice it was to have a cat around, and so they are ready to open their hearts to another pet who might need them. Now what do you suppose it would have been like for Ken and Ellie if I had shown up at their house 6 weeks ago, maybe the same day or the next day after they lost Oscar, with one of my cats and said, “Look what I have for you. A beautiful cat to love. No need to feel sad about Oscar. You’ll be fine now. Just take Mr. Marley and be happy again. You wanted a cat, right?” Not good, not good at all.
So let’s look at the Gospel story with this in mind. It is Sunday afternoon, and Cleopas and a friend are leaving Jerusalem to go to Emmaus. They have been followers of Jesus. Jesus, their teacher and friend. Jesus, the one they had hoped would save Israel. But instead of saving the holy nation, the place of God’s promise, he was killed by the conquerors of that nation and their religious leader puppets. They are devastated.
I am not sure why they are going to Emmaus. Perhaps that is where they were from, and now that the movement is over, it’s leader dead, they are headed home. Can we identify with such a walk? Maybe it is just walking out of the gym or field after a big game that you lost, or leaving college after the first semester because it didn’t work out – academically, socially, whatever. Or leaving the place you’d worked for years for the last time because they are closing. Or the short walk from to phone to the living room to tell your partner that you did not get the job. Leaving the court house after the divorce has been finalized. Did you leave the obstetrician’s office after having it confirmed that indeed, you had miscarried? Or after the delivery when you learned of your child’s medical or developmental challenges. Perhaps it was the ride home from the bedside vigil where you had prayed and prayed with all your might, and still your loved one died. What you had dreamed of, hoped for, anticipated with a joyful heart was not to be. We all know some kind of deep disappointment, an ache, that question that circles around and around in your head – “What happened? How could it have turned out this way?”
For all of those things, we need to grieve. We need to name what happened, cry, sleep, ask the questions without any answers given. And we need companions who will cry with us, who will listen without rushing in with answers. We need companions who will do the work of discerning when it is time to help us remember that we will get through this, who will remind us of our strengths, who will reflect back to us the love we still have to share with others who may come into our lives – another pregnancy, a kitty from a shelter, a new love. We need a companion who reminds us that there are indeed other job or colleges – some that may be even better suited to us. There will be more games, and we have won so many already. And that loved one who died, he or she is still with you. Listen and look and you will see it, you will feel it, you will know it.
The Gospel story says that Cleopas and his friend were kept from recognizing Jesus, and don’t we have to wonder why, and by whom. Some commentators say they were too absorbed in their grief, they were too focused on the passed – that somehow it was their own inadequacy or mistake that kept them from seeing. But I’ve always thought it sounded like it was something done to them from a force outside of them. And I’ve always thought it was a Godly force. Last time I preached on this text I wondered if it was kept from them so that the joyful surprise of who was with them would have more impact – like a surprise birthday party after you think everyone has forgotten you. But now I am thinking it is because Jesus knew that they needed time to process the events that had happened, time to name their disappointment, express their sorrow.
It is only after he has asked them and listened to them, received everything they had to say about it, that he helps them to understand things in a different way. He is gentle with them. He reminds them of their scriptural prophesies, reminds them that what looks like bad news from one perspective is actually the fulfillment of God’s promise. They start to feel better after all. And when it seems time for them to part, they don’t want the conversation to stop, so they invite him to stay. Actually, they insist. Perhaps all is quiet as they prepare the meal. Everything that had been spoken sinks in. Different comments jump out at them. They feel lighter than they have for some time. And when this man who has come to mean so much to them over the journey breaks the bread, it dawns on them. He is Jesus, their teacher, their savior! Of course! How could they have missed it. Their hearts fill as they catch one another’s eye, and when they look to where he had been, he is gone. And yet not gone. They know now that he will never truly be gone, and they hit the road again, as they realize their work is not done, the movement is still in full swing, they still have good, good news to proclaim.
This is such a great story to put ourselves into – to walk beside Cleopas and Jesus, to tell of our heartaches and disappointments until a space is cleared to hear something new. We don’t know what Jesus looks like, but as we hear truth, as we dive into the depths of God’s Word and promise, our hearts will burn inside of us. We have our journeys as individuals, couples, families – but we also have a journey as a church, as the Body of Christ. We have our disappointments, our dashed hopes, our confusion and sorrow over how things are changing. But that is not what will have the last word. We can share about these fears and sorrows – bringing them to God and to each other – until there is room for a new understanding, until there is finally, a clear vision that Christ still is with us, that there is still good news to proclaim. We will not let the values of this world define our value or our mission or our success. God’s Word and action in this world is eternal, the Good News will always burn in our hearts. So let’s look for it, let’s believe it, let’s proclaim it. May it be so.
