Scripture: Luke 24:13–35
Note about the worship video: We had some technical difficulties today, so the end of Pastor Matt’s sermon was cut off, as well as the remainder of the worship service. You can read the text of the rest of the sermon here.
Are there any Columbo fans out there? For those who don’t know, Columbo was a TV show in the 70’s about a police lieutenant who solved mysteries. But unlike the common mystery framework where we as the viewers figure it out with the characters, Columbo was written in a way where we as the viewers knew who the murderer was, and we watched Lieutenant Columbo figure it out. Today’s Scripture is definitely a Columbo-style story. From the beginning, we know who this mysterious stranger is, but the people in the story do not know that it is Jesus. So, what I want us to do is imagine that we are on the road with them, ignorant of the whole story, and see how it changes how we read it. At this point, what would we know?
There are two people. Maybe two friends. Two random disciples of Jesus who both happened to be going the same way. Some scholars think that they might be a romantic or even a married couple. We know one of their names is Cleopas, but the Bible doesn’t say anything before or after about a Cleopas. And we don’t even get a name for the second person. All we know is there are two of them. Scholar Shannon Michael Pater suggests Luke might have intentionally left out the identity of the second person, so that each of us might imagine ourselves in the story.
There are two people on a road. Last week we started the series on the road, thinking about how often Luke takes us to the road to learn about our own inner journeys. These two people have some reason to head seven miles away from Jerusalem, to a place called Emmaus, on the first day of the week, so they are travelling with each other.
There are two people on a road, who are grieving. Pause for a moment and pretend that you are living this story on the road with this couple. It is midday, the third day after Jesus has been brutally crucified, and you have begun to hear things about Jesus rising from the dead, but it feels mostly like gossip and wishful thinking. Jesus has definitely not appeared to you, so you are skeptical. As far as you know, Jesus is gone. You are grieving the fact that not only is Jesus dead, but you are also grieving the loss of what a “successful” Jesus would have meant for you and your people. You are grieving the man, and his mission, as lost forever. Last week, we talked about the women at the tomb, carrying a lot of emotions with them…sadness, anger, resentment, shame, guilt, and of course grief. We can imagine the same of these two disciples of Jesus. Like many of us, who have had to go back to our lives after losing a loved one, they were going back to their lives, whatever awaited them in Emmaus, and began to create that “new normal” of living through the reality of grief.
There are two people on a road, who are grieving, joined by a third person. Some guy shows up. Again, if you don’t know the end of the story, this is just some guy. Walking along the road, he catches up to them, or they catch up to him, and they fall into step together. Now, if you are these two companions, walking away from Jerusalem where all of these things have happened, you are probably expecting this guy to either be a) happy about what has happened to Jesus…”good riddance to another fake news Messiah,” or b) sad about what has happened to Jesus…and maybe this man will join in your grieving. You are expecting happy or sad. You are not expecting “clueless.” In fact, the text says that they literally stopped walking in the middle of the road: “You really don’t know what has happened? Are you the only one in Jerusalem who is this clueless?”
There are two people on a road, who are grieving, joined by a third, who is clueless. “What things?” this stranger asks. Put yourself in their sandals; how would you respond?
These companions choose to draw him into their catastrophe. Jesus had come, they tell him, to redeem Israel. These two, and many more like them, had expected Jesus to bring 100% prosperity. Cultural and socio-economic and military redemption. They had been raised on images of the coming of the Lord and those images came with clear chronological and total prosperity. When the Messiah came, he would bring that total, 100% prosperity.
But Jesus had failed to deliver on that expectation, therefore their response was to slide to the opposite side of the spectrum, and see total, 100% catastrophe. No political redemption. No socio-economic redemption. No military redemption has taken place. Therefore, Jesus was a total failure.
The catastrophizing that we see in the world around us is not new. How often do we fall into the same dichotomy? We tend to live in a rather binary ideology, where either our team is in charge, and everything is beautiful and perfect and nothing is really wrong…or the other team is in charge, and everything is chaos and dumpster fire and the end of the world. That’s what makes our election cycles so terrifying…we are taught to buy into this dichotomy between 100% prosperity or 100% catastrophe. It will be one or the other.
And, like these two companions headed to Emmaus, we seem to have all of the answers, don’t we? We know it all. Our team is the best team. If our team would have won, it would have been perfect! This couple has all the answers, and this stranger who shows up on the road has NONE of the answers! “Are you the only one in all of Jerusalem who doesn’t get it?” How many of us are know-it-alls, sure that our worldview is the right one, and as a result we harbor our catastrophizing?
But the story doesn’t end there. Let’s read a little more:
25 Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” 27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
The first thing that they figure out is that Jesus is the teacher who reframes. These companions have fallen into the frame of “prosperity or catastrophe.” But Jesus reframes the Scriptures to them through a new lens: “God at work in the world.” What if, Jesus asks, we believed that even when things seem darkest, God might still be around? What if God is still working through the world even if injustice continues to exist? What if God’s work in the world looks like his prophet, his messiah, even his own son dying to show what true greatness looks like?
This is important for these companions—and us—to understand. This reframe acknowledges that injustice and evil and sin still exist, but that God is simultaneously at work dismantling them. This stranger acknowledges that what happened to Jesus was injustice, but it was not an injustice so pervasive that God lost the ability to use it for good. This mysterious stranger seems to have an alternative hope, suggesting that maybe we don’t need to completely catastrophize, even when we see the brokenness of the world all around us? Jesus tells these companions that this has been the message of the prophets all the way back to the beginning, so why should this prophet be any different?
In the same way, how might we open our eyes to things that God might be doing that are good and holy and important, even if the world around us seems like chaos? Our world is teaching us to ONLY see the evil and destruction of the other team, or to be defensive of our team to the point of being blind to their imperfections. Catastrophe or prosperity. But what if God is still at work, even when all hope seems gone? Jesus is the teacher who reframes.
But the story isn’t over there. Let’s read a little more:
28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 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.
What happens here would have been pretty common in that culture. Since Moses received the Torah on Sinai, the people of God had been commanded to show hospitality. To the stranger. To the immigrant. To the outsider. It is actually a pretty core belief of all of our Scriptures. And these two were practicing such hospitality: “come join us for a meal and a night’s rest.”
But, Jesus is still teaching us in this action. He didn’t have to stay. He could have moved on, after reframing the Scriptures for them. I think that the lesson for us here is that Jesus is the one who stays. Throughout Scripture, this is another key component: we worship a God who stays. Genesis begins with the image of God walking with ADAM in the cool of the evening. Revelation ends with the promise that we will be God’s people, and that God will wipe every tear from our eyes. And in between, it tells the story of a God who stays. Who promises in Matthew “Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Who promises in Hebrews and Deuteronomy, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” Who promises in Romans, “There is nothing that can separate us from the love of God.” Who promises in the Psalms that God is our loving and caring shepherd. We worship a God who stays. One of the messages is that Resurrection proves that even death itself will not succeed in separating God from us.
This mysterious stranger, whomever he might be, chooses to stay.
But the story isn’t over there. Let’s read a little more:
30 When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him, and he vanished from their sight. 32 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?”
Columbo has finally figured out the mystery! Finally, the companions learn what we have known for a while. The mysterious stranger is none other than the Risen Lord, Jesus himself! They didn’t know it was him when he showed up on the road. They didn’t know it was him when he taught them Scriptures. They didn’t know it was him when he stayed with them. But they knew it was him when he broke bread with them. That is the last thing we learn about the Lord: Jesus is the companion who joins us at the table.
Let it sink in what that actually means. Humans have been engaging in religious symbolic acts, probably from the very beginning. Many have engaged in symbols of violent conquest, sacrificing their children or drinking the blood of their enemies. Others have engaged in sexual conquest, using temple prostitution. Others have been less violent, but still symbolize adoration to a powerful god far away, bowing and proclaiming that we are not worthy. But this is a symbol of God eating with us at the table. Our eyes are open when God eats with us. Think about what that reveals about true greatness, and egalitarianism, and generosity, and abundance, and fellowship, and power, and what it means to nourish a hungry world. The Early Church, threatened by splintering and resentment and suspicion of one another, and the dichotomy of “catastrophe or prosperity,” were unified by the symbol of Christ at the table. Here, all were equal. Here, all are welcome. Here, in the breaking of bread, we meet the Risen Jesus once more. It is the symbol that ought to unite us, as well. Here, we still meet the risen Lord.
And now, the rest of the story:
33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem, and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then they told what had happened on the road and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
Our Earthworks trail running group is training for our summer trip to Arkansas, and I can’t help but notice the coincidence that last week we ran a seven mile trail run. Just like those companions, who realized that they had just seen the risen Lord and had to tell the apostles. Now, if you have ever run seven miles, you know it is not a thing you can do in a full sprint the whole time. You have to pace yourself, and commit to the long haul. Is that not a great word for us today? Open our minds to the God at work in the world. Open our hearts to the God who stays. Open our eyes to the God who eats with us at the table. And let us pace ourselves for the long road that is the journey of faith.
Leave a Reply