It is the weekend of Mother’s Day. I know that. Hi mom! And I should do something in this space to acknowledge that, shouldn’t I? But I’m not. Too complicated, really. Too messy, in some ways. Sure I had a great mother and I love her dearly, she made me what I am and who I am. But what about those whose experience of mother was more painful? What about those who long to be a mother and aren’t able to? What about ... Well, you get the picture. It is a complicated celebration, as much as we try to pretend it isn’t. So, I’m just avoiding the issue.
An appropriate thing to do on this weekend. At least if you look at the scripture for this Third Sunday of Easter. Which I’ll get to in a minute. But first I want to draw your attention to the preposition in a previous sentence: Third Sunday of Easter. Did you see that? Probably didn’t even register, did it? Only two letters, no big deal. Right? Right. Well, probably right anyway.
We just went through the season of Lent. And each Sunday was counted as “the ___th Sunday in Lent.” Now, we are facing the Third Sunday of Easter. See the difference? We were in and now we’re of. Get it?
Uh. No. Not really. OK, never mind. We’ll come back to that.
Let’s look at the bible passage for this week. Maybe it can get us out of this blind alley we’ve wandered down here somehow. It’s a familiar story. The post-Easter one we turn to after we take care of Thomas. You remember.
Luke 24:13-35 Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" They stood still, looking sad. 18 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?" 19 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, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21 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. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23 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. 24 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." 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. 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. 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?" 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.
Whew. A long story, and yet a familiar one and a favorite of many. A chance encounter, a mysterious stranger and curious conversation, a polite invitation and a surprising revelation, burning hearts and a footrace to tell the news. Yep, it’s an Easter story.
But have you ever wondered where they were going? You know, Cleopas and that other one, what was the name? Where were they going? Heading off to Emmaus. But why? What was in Emmaus? Was that home? Did they have a relative there? A restaurant they knew and always wanted to try, and why not now? Or was it just not Jerusalem? Maybe they weren’t really going to Emmaus, just away. Anywhere but here, they said to each other. Just go, hit the road.
One of my favorite writers, Frederick Buechner, says that Emmaus was:
the place we go to in order to escape – a bar, a movie, wherever it is throw up our hands and say, “Let the whole damned thing go hand. It makes no difference anyway.” ... Emmaus may be buying a new suit or a new car or smoking more cigarettes than you really want, or reading a second-rate novel or even writing one. Emmaus may be going to church on Sunday. Emmaus is whatever we do or wherever we go to make ourselves forget that the world holds nothing sacred: that even the wisest and bravest and loveliest decay and die; that even the noblest ideas that men have had – ideas about love and freedom and justice – have always in time been twisted out of shape by selfish men for selfish ends. (F. Buechner, The Magnificent Defeat)
Now you recognize the place, don’t you? You’ve been there. You’ve headed there when the world pressed in on you. Emmaus was under the blanket you pulled over your head when the night terrors threatened to spirit you away while you slept. It was the garden you fled to with tear filled eyes when your heart was first broken. You’ve been there. Maybe you are there now. The dark corner of the house where you hope no one comes to ask what you’re doing, or when you are going to get back to work - for them. The aloneness of the commute that you’ve made a million times and know exactly how long before you have to wipe the tears and compose yourself so no one asks what’s wrong. Emmaus. You’ve been there. Maybe you are there now.
That’s why the story speaks so profoundly to us. Jesus comes to us, even in our Emmaus. In the ordinary moments of our lives, in the breaking of bread, and sweeping of floors, and the changing of diapers and mowing of grass, in the washing of dishes and the writing of essays, in the filling out of forms and answering the same questions thousands of times. Jesus is known to us. For a moment, and a fleeting glimpse and then he is gone again. And we are left just the same.
Except the same isn’t the same any more. The dishes seem to sparkle just a little bit, the forms seem just a hair less tedious, the questions - while the same as before - are suddenly being asked by a child of wonder standing on the threshold of new possibilities. The world - same old world - looks different somehow.
Of Easter. We are of Easter. We choose to go through Lent, we find ourselves in Lent. But Easter finds us, it becomes us. We are only Lenten people for a short time and from a distance- at arms length, but we are Easter people for all time. Because he is known to us in the breaking of the bread.
An appropriate thing to do on this weekend. At least if you look at the scripture for this Third Sunday of Easter. Which I’ll get to in a minute. But first I want to draw your attention to the preposition in a previous sentence: Third Sunday of Easter. Did you see that? Probably didn’t even register, did it? Only two letters, no big deal. Right? Right. Well, probably right anyway.
We just went through the season of Lent. And each Sunday was counted as “the ___th Sunday in Lent.” Now, we are facing the Third Sunday of Easter. See the difference? We were in and now we’re of. Get it?
Uh. No. Not really. OK, never mind. We’ll come back to that.
Let’s look at the bible passage for this week. Maybe it can get us out of this blind alley we’ve wandered down here somehow. It’s a familiar story. The post-Easter one we turn to after we take care of Thomas. You remember.
Luke 24:13-35 Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" They stood still, looking sad. 18 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?" 19 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, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21 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. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23 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. 24 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." 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. 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. 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?" 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.
Whew. A long story, and yet a familiar one and a favorite of many. A chance encounter, a mysterious stranger and curious conversation, a polite invitation and a surprising revelation, burning hearts and a footrace to tell the news. Yep, it’s an Easter story.
But have you ever wondered where they were going? You know, Cleopas and that other one, what was the name? Where were they going? Heading off to Emmaus. But why? What was in Emmaus? Was that home? Did they have a relative there? A restaurant they knew and always wanted to try, and why not now? Or was it just not Jerusalem? Maybe they weren’t really going to Emmaus, just away. Anywhere but here, they said to each other. Just go, hit the road.
One of my favorite writers, Frederick Buechner, says that Emmaus was:
the place we go to in order to escape – a bar, a movie, wherever it is throw up our hands and say, “Let the whole damned thing go hand. It makes no difference anyway.” ... Emmaus may be buying a new suit or a new car or smoking more cigarettes than you really want, or reading a second-rate novel or even writing one. Emmaus may be going to church on Sunday. Emmaus is whatever we do or wherever we go to make ourselves forget that the world holds nothing sacred: that even the wisest and bravest and loveliest decay and die; that even the noblest ideas that men have had – ideas about love and freedom and justice – have always in time been twisted out of shape by selfish men for selfish ends. (F. Buechner, The Magnificent Defeat)
Now you recognize the place, don’t you? You’ve been there. You’ve headed there when the world pressed in on you. Emmaus was under the blanket you pulled over your head when the night terrors threatened to spirit you away while you slept. It was the garden you fled to with tear filled eyes when your heart was first broken. You’ve been there. Maybe you are there now. The dark corner of the house where you hope no one comes to ask what you’re doing, or when you are going to get back to work - for them. The aloneness of the commute that you’ve made a million times and know exactly how long before you have to wipe the tears and compose yourself so no one asks what’s wrong. Emmaus. You’ve been there. Maybe you are there now.
That’s why the story speaks so profoundly to us. Jesus comes to us, even in our Emmaus. In the ordinary moments of our lives, in the breaking of bread, and sweeping of floors, and the changing of diapers and mowing of grass, in the washing of dishes and the writing of essays, in the filling out of forms and answering the same questions thousands of times. Jesus is known to us. For a moment, and a fleeting glimpse and then he is gone again. And we are left just the same.
Except the same isn’t the same any more. The dishes seem to sparkle just a little bit, the forms seem just a hair less tedious, the questions - while the same as before - are suddenly being asked by a child of wonder standing on the threshold of new possibilities. The world - same old world - looks different somehow.
Of Easter. We are of Easter. We choose to go through Lent, we find ourselves in Lent. But Easter finds us, it becomes us. We are only Lenten people for a short time and from a distance- at arms length, but we are Easter people for all time. Because he is known to us in the breaking of the bread.
Shalom,
Derek
No comments:
Post a Comment