Lectionary Readings for Sunday, April 6, 2008

Lectionary Readings for Sunday, April 6, 2008
Third Sunday of Easter


Acts 2:14a, 36-41
Psalm 116:1-4,12-19
1 Peter 1:17-23
Luke 24:13-35

Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.

The road leads from Jerusalem to Emmaus.

With the care of a historian who pays attention to detail, Luke tells us it is about a seven mile journey. But he does not tell us in which direction we are to walk. Whereas the exact location of Jerusalem has always mattered, the exact location of Emmaus is a mystery. There are many villages seven or so miles from Jerusalem, none of which are known as Emmaus. Its boundaries are uncertain. But its purpose is ever so clear. It is a place of recovery. The tumultuous events in Jerusalem had both dashed hopes and sowed the seeds of fear. What happened to Jesus might well happen to his followers, and so Cleopas and his friend headed for a place to regroup.

There are few Bible stories as user-friendly as Jesus' appearance on the way to Emmaus. Each step of the journey is familiar territory. Their path is one we have travelled many times. Whatever direction we take the destination is public worship and private discernment. It turns out that the Emmaus landscape is nothing less than the landscape of life itself.

What do we do when we encounter a traumatic event? We find a friend. And what do we do with the friend? We try to figure out what happened, and what our next steps should be. Life's events always prompt us to connect – to share, to talk, to find someone with whom we can make sense of those events.

It would be wonderful to write that every such connection restores hope, but such a thought would be far from the truth. It turns out that commiseration isn't the same thing as connection. Tell the same grim story, to the same friend, too many times and our eyes are closed. Despair has a way of doing that. And what happens when two of us cannot solve the problem? We bring a third person into the conversation. This person's viewpoints and teachings can't help but lend much-needed insight.

Sometimes hope's entrance is graceful, but more often than not it brings us up against our judgments. Cleopas and his friend are put off that the hidden Jesus does not know what happened in Jerusalem. And Jesus is a bit put off that Cleopas and his friend have not paid attention to scripture that could explain everything if seen in the right light. “Where have you been?” they both seem to say.

And so the conversation we will remember two thousand years later begins. The chaotic string of events that led to the crucifixion actually wasn't chaotic at all. It was meaningful, purposeful, useful. Besides which, the apparent ending wasn't an end at all. Life would indeed trump death. Suddenly the pieces of a chaotic puzzle fit into place, and their hearts are warmed as scripture suddenly makes sense. We know this, because we too have heard sermons that truly bring the text to life and put our doubts to rest.

In the Leading Causes of Life we have written about 'agency' as one of Life's causes. Agency is related to the simple observation that “things happen.” It is tempting to think that we are the authors of agency, that what we do is 'the most important thing'. But actually, sometimes it is the simple passage of time that moves us along. As they walked and talked the sun began to set, as it always did. They began to get hungry, as they always had at the end of day. It was time to find shelter, as human beings are wont to do. Cleopas and his friend had reservations, but the stranger did not. Night's advent forced a choice. Should Cleopas and his friend invite the stranger to spend the night with them? Should the stranger invite himself? Should he remain silent and wait for an invitation? What are the rules and the norms wrapped in the blessings of hospitality? The stranger would have been perfectly content to go his own way. But it would have meant breaking the connection that had been established along the way. Break a connection and you break the fabric of life itself.

“Stay with us,” they urge. Once inside, both connection and coherence make the voice of life plain and clear. The God who gives all we need is thanked, bread is blessed, bread is shared, and eyes are opened. Suddenly the stranger's identity is unmistakably clear. The stranger is not “anybody,” and the stranger is not “somebody.” The stranger has a name, the ultimate sign of coherence.

On the way to Emmaus we hear life speaking in many ways. It connects; it seeks order; it renews hope; it responds to a changing world; and it ends with a blessing. The pattern of events makes liturgical sense to us because we do it whenever we gather for worship. There too we connect with the God of life and with each other, we seek order through the telling of stories, we renew hope, we practice hospitality and we receive blessings.

The road to Emmaus is one we know well, and one we travel together whenever we worship. Let us turn to the story . . . listen carefully knowing that it describes each one of our lives. Where is Emmaus? It is wherever we go to make sense of life.

Now on that same day two of them 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.

For the most part we are somewhat content to let the story end with the revelation of the stranger's identity. We tend to overlook the fact that Cleopas and his friend, who once sought refuge from the trials and tribulations of life in Jerusalem, decided to return to the city from which they fled. They are no longer afraid. They have a story to tell. Offer hospitality and you never know who you might meet. And, just as beautifully, the breaking of bread is not confined to a singular historic memory . . . it happens over and over again as one day leads to the next.

Are we perplexed?

Find someone with whom we can walk and talk.

Is the two-way conversation restoring hope?

If not, invite a third party.

Order is waiting to be found.

Life is trying to speak and has been doing so in the written word since the beginning of time.

Thank God for Emmaus . . . whose exact geography is no more, and no less, than the landscape of our lives as congregations, as individuals, and as disciples of the living Christ.

Larry

I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com