The Good Life – sermon on April 19, 2015
Luke 24: 35-48 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. And just as they were telling about it, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” 37They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. 38He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? 39Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” 40And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet.
41While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” 42They gave him a piece of broiled fish, 43and he took it and ate in their presence. 44Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” 45Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, 46and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, 47and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. 48You are witnesses of these things.”
Sermon: The Good Life by Rev. Doreen Oughton
Has anyone here ever dreamed of being famous? … I dallied with the idea briefly when the Partridge Family was on TV., and the Brady Bunch, because certainly the Cullen Clan was as talented as they were. I think I knew I didn’t have the talent as an individual to be a big star, but, well, of course I would gain some fame when Davey Jones took me for his bride, right? It’s very normal, this desire, at least among those in the tween demographic. A 2012 study found that the desire for fame solely for the sake of being famous was the most popular future goal among a group of 10-12 year-olds, overshadowing hopes for financial success, achievement, and a sense of community. When I read about that, I was quick to assume that it is this crazy society we live in – all the “reality” TV shows that make it seem possible that anyone could be famous – a NJ girl named Snooky; a verbally abusive chef, personal trainer or dance teacher; a girl called Honey-boo-boo; or just a grumpy cat –and for more than 15 minutes. How I cringed at the shows my daughter watched about teen-aged girls throwing sweet 16 parties that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars; or that showed the everything-you-could-dream- of “cribs,” as well as the lifestyles, of the rich and famous. But then I remembered those fantasies of fame that I indulged, and that were common even back when I was young.
The dream of fame is the dream for recognition, acceptance, and perceived lovability, as well as for wealth, comfort and security. And while most of us outgrow the dream of fame, I would guess that we would all judge such a lifestyle as the good life. What more could we want or need than to have any good or comfort we desired, as well as recognition from others? I’m reminded of an editorial cartoon by Hitch that was in the T&G the other day. There was a drawing of Aaron Hernandez, the former NE Patriots player recently convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison. The cartoon noted what he gave up – a big house in a gated community with an exercise room, den and surveillance cameras; frequenting bars; and a lifetime of security – in exchange for the big house in a gated community with an exercise yard, warden and surveillance cameras; behind bars; and a lifetime in high security. He had it made, people might think – he was living the dream. How could he have risked it all, why? We can’t know for certain, but it seems that he felt he’d been disrespected or betrayed. The good life – that big house and bar-hopping and security – did not give him enough peace, enough inner strength to withstand a spilled drink, to tolerate a perceived insult or threat.
Even the disciples had their fantasies of finding a certain level of fame, or maybe just power, in hitching their wagon to Jesus. They had argued amongst themselves about who would be seated at his right hand when the kingdom came. I wonder if Jesus himself even had ideas about a grand come back when he talks about the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory. And remember the transfiguration, when Jesus is up on the mountain with three of his disciples and suddenly he shines rays of light, and Moses and Elijah appear next to him, also radiant? But he told his disciples to tell no one what they saw. Talk about a tough request! I’m sure this was the kind of Messiah they all had in mind – glory and power and honor for all to see. He was going to conquer those Romans, if not by leading a revolution, at least by showing them and everyone who he was in his full glory. Then everyone would know that God was on his side, and they would have to change.
But I don’t know, maybe death, or even brushes with death, knock that desire right out of you, help you focus on what is really important. In this morning’s Gospel reading, we have Luke’s story of Jesus appearing suddenly in the midst of the disciples – similar to the story we heard from John last week. He did not come on a cloud with power and glory. He was not radiating beams of light. He did not, as far as we know, appear to Pilate or the Sanhedrin, the chief priests or Sadducees or scribes. He was not out to show those in power that they could not keep him down. He did not make it clear to them that God was on his side. No, he showed up to his friends. He showed up in a locked room. He showed up with a body that was wounded, and he insisted on showing his hands and his feet. Barbara Brown Taylor talks about how important Jesus’ hands and feet were in his ministry – healing, breaking bread, travelling around to preach and teach. She says, “Now, wounded and bruised, those same hands and feet were proof to the disciples that he had gone through the danger and not around it.”
So many people, even after surrendering their own fantasy of fame, still love the dramatic. We want music or worship that absolutely wows us. We crave the big, dramatic encounters with the divine – some sort of vision or message received – a powerful experience of God. But I love what this passage tells us, that Christ just appears where we are. We may be disbelieving in our joy, we may be confused about what is happening. And I love how often in these resurrection appearance stories Jesus is not immediately recognizable. They don’t know who he is. I wonder if he still works the same way, and we might see Jesus in anybody. I mean even the incarnation gives us a clue that fame and fortune is not the way of God. Sure, God created all manner of grand and amazing things. But when it came to taking on human flesh, God incarnated as a helpless infant to a humble family in an insignificant place. Jesus was killed as a common criminal, and his resurrection was no big showy spectacle. In all the Gospels that have resurrection appearances, the risen Christ first showed himself to women, who had no status in that society. All the Gospels tell us that the men didn’t take them seriously.
This moved me so much as I thought about it – Jesus’ appearances to those frightened and grieving friends. Now I haven’t faced death in any significant way, so I’m not sure, and perhaps it is different for everyone, but I would imagine that Jesus’ actions make sense. If you knew you didn’t have long to live, or if you actually died and could come back, who would you want to see, what would you want to do? Wouldn’t you want to be with those closest to your heart? Would you have any need or desire to exercise power, to be recognized or adored by strangers? Wouldn’t you want to give comfort to and get comfort from your loved ones – touch and embrace, maybe eat together? I love these words by Michael Coffey: “The resurrected Jesus is a hungry Jesus. He comes to feed us with his bread and wine; his living, loving presence. And then he feeds us with his hunger, until we are hungry for the same things: companionship, meals shared in community, a gathering of strangers and friends where everyone is fed and is so overjoyed they can hardly believe it, but so overjoyed they can hardly not.”
Jesus has told us and shown us what the good life is. We don’t need fame, we don’t need extravagant homes. The good life can be humble, it might include danger and insecurity, even fear and doubt. The good life happens when we focus on the good news, and when we respond to Jesus’ commission to bring that good news to others, to live that good news with and for others. It’s not that by doing so we will please God and so be rewarded with wealth or safety or comfort or fame. It is that by doing so we enter the kingdom. Even in our doubt and confusion there is joy, there is life abundant. In our willingness to take risks to live differently, we bear hope to the world in need. As BB Taylor says, “We bring hope because of the commission Jesus gave the disciples and the whole church long ago, for we are the Body, and the Image, of the Risen Christ in the world today: Not our pretty faces and not our sincere eyes but our hands and feet – what we have done with them and where we have gone with them.” Let’s not miss the living God in our presence because of our grandiose ideas about what that would look like. Perhaps, if we let the ordinary moments be extraordinary, we will receive a visit, which, no matter how humble the place or experience, will leave us lit up from within.
