Emmaus

Luke 24:28-35

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It’s Thursday morning, the time I usually set aside to prepare Sunday’s Sermon.  I fire up the computer and gather all the bits and pieces, scraps and snippets I’ve gathered in my study.  I stretch my arms and crack my knuckles ready to go.  But, as I squint at the words in my Bible, it suddenly occurs to me that I have forgotten my glasses at home.  This is going to be a serious problem; because I just got there and don’t feel like driving all the way home to pick up my glasses and then drive all the way back.

I solve the computer screen dilemma by jacking up the font size to about 22, about the size of the numbers on the speed limit signs.  I then dash into the Library and find a Bible that seems to be mislabeled “Large Print”.  This must be some kind of joke pulled by some cruel book publisher, because it doesn’t appear all that large to me, but I can at least read it.  But, all my notes and such still remain a blurry heiroglyphic.

The frustrating thing about my dwindling visual capacity (as well as my apparent forgetfulness) is that you can’t see what is right before your face without the right glasses.  So, having those bits of glass are essential if you are to recognize what your looking at.  Real life is seen through those lenses.

Such was the case on that first Easter Sunday.  Two travelers on the way to a village called Emmaus just outside of Jerusalem fall into step with Jesus, but they do not recognize him.

They were not the only ones who did that.   The gospel of John reports that Mary had a difficult time recognizing Jesus, and it was only after she heard her name on his lips that she realized he wasn’t the gardener. Thomas longed for the extra confirmation of feeling Jesus’ torn flesh. And here, Jesus is having a long conversation with two of his disciples. Even after hearing him for such a long time, even after the strange warming in their hearts, they didn’t recognize him.  Why not?  There may be a couple of reasons:

Have you ever had something happen or received some news that was so good you thought to yourself, "This is too good to be true!"  For a while you can't quite believe your good fortune and your perspective on life is suddenly different.

Or perhaps you have come close to losing someone you love, or preparing yourself for the worst in a medical diagnosis -- and then everything turns around and the news is unexpectedly good.  A dramatic turn for the good or those beautiful words, "It was benign," bring joy to your heart. "Pinch me," you said, "I must be dreaming!"

If you can hold an experience like that in your mind, you will have a deeper understanding of our gospel reading from Luke and have some empathy with the followers of Jesus as they deal with the "too good to be true" resurrection of their Master.  Maybe that’s why they didn’t see or maybe their grief clouded their vision.

Grief can be disorienting.  Nothing looks quite the same way after a sudden loss of a loved one.  Food doesn’t taste the same, colors are more muted.

Or is this passage telling us something about us? Is it showing us the nature of grief and how disorienting it can be? Kathryn Johnston, a pastor at Mechanicsburg Presbyterian Church, said, “When grief and the dark of the valley engulf you, you cannot even see Jesus in front of your face. He’s there. Just. keep. walking.”

So they did.  They kept walking on their way to Emmaus.

On this dry and dusty afternoon they share the miles in conversation to pass the time.

The topic of the day focused on the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth only a few days past.  These two Cleopas and a companion un-named (probably his wife) are discouraged, distraught, disappointed and maybe a bit disillusioned.  They are disciples without a teacher; sinners without a savior.

They had seen Jesus as a “prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people.” (Luke 24:19) They had heard him preach; they had seen him heal.  They had high hopes and big dreams; but the high hopes were brought low by the sound of hammer on nails; and the big dreams drained when the life seeped out of Jesus crucified body.

So, now they just stumbled home ready to resume their lives of routine and custom, to go back to the way things were.  When they drew near to Emmaus; they followed the time honored custom of that culture and invited this stranger into their home for a hot meal and a warm bed.

Also, according to their tradition; they gave to this stranger the honor of asking the blessing.  When the wine is poured and the bread placed; he takes the loaf and offers the  traditional  prayer, “Blessed “Blessed are Thou, O Eternal, our God! King of the Universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.” (Pessach Haggadah, pg 91)

 And at the moment he passes the bread, the eyes of these two are opened and they realize this stranger is no stranger, but the risen Lord.  There are two features of this new vision that I’d like you to see.

First, the road to Emmaus is not like the road to Damascus. (Acts 9) On that journey Saul of Tarsus is blinded by dramatic vision of Christ which knocks him off his horse and his presumptions.  The impact on Saul is so immediate that only a new name, Paul, can mark the change.  Saul the persecutor of Christians, in “moment, in a twinkling of the eye” was changed, became a “new creation”. He was now a new person. (1 Corinthians 15:52, 2 Corinthians 5:17)

The road to Emmaus more reflects our experience than that of Paul.  “This is a vision without immediate recognition, but was rather a slow demonstration.  Even when Jesus explains the scriptures about the suffering and glorification of the Messiah, the travelers do not know who he is.” (Crossin, John: The Birth of Christianity, pg xi)

Their vision is clouded either by their own grief or preoccupations.  Perhaps they had only seen Jesus before from the fringes of the crowds; perhaps they had only seen him from a distance. Perhaps it was their presumption that anyone nailed to a cross was as good as dead and buried which fogged their vision.  Whatever the reason - Jesus was with them and they didn’t recognize him.

How much are we like them.  Often we don’t recognize the hand of God working in our lives except when we look through the rearview mirror.  We don’t recognize the difference God makes now.  We only see that difference God made, when we reflect as armchair quarterbacks hitting the rewind button of our memories and then recognizing, “There but for the grace of God went I.”   Our recognition is slow and fragmentary like that of those two Emmaus travelers.

For, when Jesus disappeared they hit that re-wind button and said, “Of course, it had to be Him, did not our hearts burn within us while he opened to us the scriptures.” (Luke 24:32) You see, their pulse quickened, their spirits soared when Jesus spoke to them of God’s Will; but it was only later when they finally recognized him did they recognize he had been with them all along.  It was only later that they remembered that God’s Word “will not return empty, it will accomplish that which God intends.” (Isaiah 55:11)

That’s why mediation is one of the great spiritual disciplines.  That is why Jesus from time to time drew away from the crowds into the high places.  That is why ever great man or woman of God meditates and reflects upon what as happened to them; for it is usually in those moments that we recognize what God has done. 

The second feature of this day I’d like you to see is this. What lenses did those two Emmaus travelers look through which finally gave them clearer vision?  How were they able  to

see Jesus for who he is?  It was in the “breaking of the bread” that their eyes were open.  It was through this spontaneous communion service that they were finally able to see.  

One scholar looked at this story and observed:

Resurrection is not enough.  You still need scripture and Eucharist, tradition and table, community and justice; otherwise, divine presence remains unrecognized and human eyes remain unopened.” (ibid.pg xi)

John Calvin, our theological grandfather made the same point:

“The more fully Christ has been revealed to people, the more clearly do the sacraments present him to us...”

                                                                                                 (Institutes, Book IV. 14.22)

Ben Weir, is a Presbyterian missionary who was for so long a hostage in Lebanon during the late 70's, speaks movingly about worshiping while in captivity.  Every Saturday night, he saved a piece of bread from dinner, and on Sunday morning he would eat that piece of bread and feel greatly moved by the sense of communing with God's people all over the world. Even in prison, the bread brought him into the presence of the Lord. ( Bruce Larson, THE PRESENCE, (HarperCollins Publishers, 1988), p. 98. )

As we gather to break bread and partake of the cup we see Christ present with us. This vision may be gradual, in fact for most of us, certainly is.  Faith is a growing thing filled with stuttering stops and stumbles; doubts and questions.  It has the give and take of every important relationship.

We see that give and take in the invitation.  Notice that it is the Emmaus travelers who invite Jesus in.  He does not invite them.  They invite him into their home.  We find in scripture this works both ways.  There is Jesus encouragement to us to “Ask, and seek, and knock”. (Matthew 7:7); and there is the description of Jesus who is the one to “stand at the door and knock; and if we open the door he promises to come in and to eat with him or her.” (Revelation 3:20)

In this sacrament Jesus invites us to share in the redemption which comes through his body and blood.  In this sacrament we invite Jesus into our lives.  It is about faith; it is about the give and take of every valuable relationship.

As you receive this bread and this cup look through them as kind of a lens that you might see Jesus more clearly; and with clearer sight follow the path he has given.

Let us pray:

Open the eyes of our hearts O Lord so that we may see you through the shadows of our grief, touch you when we feel all alone, and hear your voice through the Word of God and the words of your people.  Feed us with the bread and the cup we pray.  Amen.