Gentle Reader,
I have appointments and meetings all this week, so what follows is the sermon I preached on April 7, 2024. May you be blessed today!
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I love stories. I love reading them; I love listening to someone tell a story. For much of my life I intended to be a journalist and spend my days chasing down and writing stories. An entire wall of my living room is given over to a bookshelf packed with novels, biographies, history, theology.
I love stories because, introverted though I am, I find people fascinating, and that’s what stories are – records of people. And people are so complex. Multifaceted. We are capable of scaling great heights and then almost immediately descending into the lowest of lows. We each have different strengths and weaknesses. Our personalities and passions are so varied. None of us looks at life in the exact same way. We’re all just different, and that’s a beautiful thing.
But there is something common to us all. Whether we always recognize it or not, we are in search of something or someone to bring sense to our stories. We crave meaning. We want to know who we are. That we matter. That all of this is going somewhere. That there’s a point.
I’ll go ahead and spoil this whole sermon series right now: our stories, ourselves, only make sense when placed within the context of an overarching, redemptive story. God’s story. And in that story, we’re not the main character. Our meaning, our identity, our point is not derived from being on center stage. Instead, we are Resurrection People, a cast of characters who delight in constantly pointing to the one who is both the Author and the Star.
Over the next several weeks we’re going to explore what it is to be resurrection people. We’re going to read through the very end of the Gospels and into the Book of Acts in order to consider the ways in which the very first believers discovered that their stories only make sense within the bounds of God’s story. The resurrection of Jesus is the central event that places them in a position to be challenged, changed, and consumed by a new narrative. Through their examples, God will challenge and invite us to let go of other stories and to give ourselves over to the story God is writing.
The first of these examples is found in Luke 24:13-35 –
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. (NRSV)
This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God.
I said it last week: Luke is my guy. His writing style might be closest to journalistic – he asks the “who, what, where, when, why” questions. He’s also the one who chooses to record stories like this walk to remember, which isn’t found in the other Gospel accounts. That doesn’t mean that he made it up. Each Gospel writer approaches the recording of the events of Jesus’ life with a unique perspective and with a certain audience in mind. We believe that God inspired and speaks through Scripture, but God didn’t lobotomize the authors. Their personalities and concerns come through in the text. This means that Luke has a point in sharing this story, which is full of emotion and confusion, and then enlightenment, and excitement.
But before we can get to that point: Who is Cleopas? This person – we don’t know if it’s a man or a woman – appears nowhere else. And we don’t even get to know the name of the person they’re with! Here it’s important for us to remember that the texts of Scripture were written for us, but not to us. We are not the original readers or listeners. Luke’s first audience probably knew who Cleopas was, or at least something about this person. They may even have known who the unnamed person was. It may also be that this information wasn’t that important. As much as I’d like all the details, there is some freedom in not knowing.
Why is that? Cleo and their friend – we’ll just call them Bob – function as stand-ins for us. They are real people, but the lack of detail about them allows us to place ourselves in the scene.
Which brings us to another question: Why are they headed to Emmaus? Everything in Luke 24:1-49 happens on the same day. They’ve been told about the resurrection of Jesus, so what on earth are they doing?
Maybe Emmaus is their hometown. That’s not really clear here. I wonder if they’re trying to go back to the last place that seemed safe. Comfortable. Or at least a familiar, manageable discomfort. I wonder too if they try to flip back a few chapters in an attempt to figure out where it all went wrong. We understand that. When we are confronted with change, good or bad, most of us are at least tempted to go back to what is familiar, even if it’s not a good place to be. We turn back the pages to try and discern the point when the plot switched.
Cleo and Bob are engrossed in deep conversation, maybe even arguing, when suddenly a man appears and begins walking with them. The first surprise turn in the story. We, the readers, we know that this is Jesus. Cleo and Bob don’t. For reasons that are beyond me to explain, Jesus doesn’t allow them to recognize him. He enters into the conversation by asking what they’ve been talking about. Luke tells us that “they stood still, looking sad.” I wonder how long that pause lasted. I think it’s here, in this pause, that the point of this story begins to unfold. In that question and pause, Jesus invites them to move away from the false comfort of previous chapters. He invites them to take part in an entirely new story.
Cleo finally speaks up, wondering if Jesus is the only person around who doesn’t know what has just happened in Jerusalem. I imagine a little wrinkling around Jesus’ eyes as he holds back a smile. No, he’s not aware of anything that’s just happened! Jesus is so gracious. So kind. He asks them to tell him what they know.
There is something about Jesus. Cleo and Bob could have walked away from this seeming stranger. But something draws them in. Jesus is as compelling in this moment as he is in all the other moments recorded in the Gospels. Try as you might, you can’t ignore Jesus. Not really. Jesus doesn’t force himself on anyone. God gave us the freedom to choose whether or not to be in relationship with God. But if you think about your life, your story, you’ll notice that Jesus keeps showing up. Keeps drawing you in.
Jesus does so here. Cleo relates all that Jesus has just gone through – the trial, the crucifixion, the report of the resurrection. They don’t get it. They’re very clear in the fact that they don’t get it – “we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” In spite of all that Jesus had said and done, these disciples, these friends of Jesus, they misunderstood his mission as ultimately political in nature. Let’s be clear: these people were under the authority of a foreign, totalitarian power. It wasn’t wrong for any person living in ancient Judea (what we today call Israel) to want to be free from the control of the Roman Empire. Rome was nasty. They did experience oppression. And this wasn’t the first time in their national history thar they had been in this situation.
Because of this, these people have a certain way of thinking about the Messiah. The Savior. They thought that surely the Messiah would focus on freeing them from the dominance of political forces that they did not want or like in order for them to live in a kingdom of their own. Where they are in charge. Where they set the agenda.
Jesus doesn’t tell them that they’re wrong to want freedom, but he does tell them that their understanding of freedom is too small. Jesus didn’t come to establish any nation or government. Jesus isn’t only for the Jewish people. Jesus is for everyone. The Kingdom of God isn’t bound to the lines on maps that don’t actually exist.
So he sets about teaching them. It begins a little harshly to our ears. Nobody likes to be called a fool. But without Jesus, we are. Or if we try to use Jesus to get what we want, we are. Fools. We need to stop. We need to listen.
This is the second surprise turn in the story. “Beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” Cleo and Bob were Jewish people. They knew their Bible, which for them was parts of the Old Testament, specifically the Torah (or the first five books), the writings of the prophets, and the psalms. They aren’t ignorant about God. But they’ve failed to completely connect what they knew to be true based on Scripture to what they had just witnessed Jesus go through. So Jesus teaches them.
That’s the thing about Jesus. He tells us when we’re being foolish. He doesn’t mince words. But he’s not mean. He wants us to understand. He wants us to grow and learn. We are just like Cleo and Bob. We fail to make connections. We get things twisted. We need Jesus to correct us.
Jesus introduces a Messiah-for-the-world way of understanding freedom. Again, it is not wrong for Cleo and Bob to want to live in a place free of Roman control. But Jesus shows them that true freedom doesn’t actually have much to do with that. True freedom is about being embraced by God. In that embrace we are made fully alive. That has nothing to do with any government.
Does that mean that Cleo and Bob, and us by extension, shouldn’t be interested in or invested in the wider community? That we should turn a blind eye to whatever is happening in our world? I don’t think so. I think it’s about getting the order right. About learning to engage with our communities, our world, from a place of knowing that Jesus transcends and embraces all cultures, languages, and histories. Of knowing that Jesus is not bound to a geographic area or a certain people group. Of knowing that the way we are called to live, the people we are called to be by the power of the Holy Spirit, is always going to be counter-cultural, but counter-cultural in a way that is not fearful of, judgemental over, or aggressive toward the world but instead invites the world to come and see that the Lord is good.
Jesus pushes Cleo and Bob to think. To be active participants in the conversation. Jesus explains what needs explaining, but they most likely asked questions. They wanted to understand. They model something crucial for us: We can’t just rest in what we’ve done or understood in the past. We don’t dismiss what is foundational to our faith, like the cross and resurrection. We don’t try to make a new gospel. We also don’t waste our time pining for “the way it used to be.” Jesus is constantly calling us forward. It’s our privilege to respond with, “Yes, Lord.”
Cleo and Bob do what we must do for our entire lives: seek understanding. They listen to Jesus. Their perspective, what they long for, changes because they choose to learn.
The third surprise turning point happens at a table. The day has gotten away from them. Jesus keeps walking, but Cleo and Bob ask him to stay for dinner. Again, we don’t know if Emmaus is their hometown. We don’t know if they’re eating in one of their own homes, a friend’s home, some kind of restaurant (maybe a Jerusalem Fried Chicken franchise location). What matters here is that they want to keep listening. They want to keep learning. They still don’t recognize Jesus, but they know that what he is telling them is important.
It’s a familiar scene. Darkness falls. Jesus occupies the place of honor. They are paying close attention to what he says and does. We saw the “Last Supper” unfold the night that Jesus was betrayed. Here, we see the “First Supper.” We see the post-resurrection grace of God flowing out onto humanity in broken bread and cups of wine. Isn’t that beautiful?
It’s important to note that Jesus is actually holding the bread. Jesus isn’t a spirit. Jesus isn’t a hallucination. Jesus has a real, physical body. (We’ll get into this more next week, so hold onto that piece of info). What Jesus can do with his physical body is different from what we can do, however, because, remember, Jesus is God. As Jesus blesses, breaks, and distributes the bread, Cleo and Bob suddenly recognize him for who he is. And Jesus just up and disappears! I think I’d probably faint if I saw that. Jesus has other places to go and other people to see. (You can check out 1 Corinthians 15:5-7 for a partial list of those places and people). At this point, I imagine the duo smack their foreheads. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” In other words, “How did we not know that was Jesus?!”
Like I said earlier, I don’t know why Jesus chose to keep himself unrecognizable for a time. I can tell you that this scene reminds us that Christianity is a revealed religion. We can’t get at the truth of it solely through rational thought because we aren’t actually at the center. We’re not the driving forc. God is at the center, and so we need God to turn on the light of our hearts and minds. To inform and transform us. This doesn’t mean that we check our brains at the door. We have to choose to learn. To reflect, to ask questions, to be open to the instruction of God. But the understanding, the edit that makes sense of it all, comes from God, not us.
This scene also reminds us that learning and transformation happen both individually and within community. This whole story starts with Cleo and Bob discussing, even arguing. about what they have seen in Jesus’ life. Each of us is responsible for our own response to God, but we aren’t isolated. At least we aren’t meant to be. We aren’t all wired to want to go-go-go every day of the week. We’re not all the life of the party. We don’t all need a long list of friends; some of us are happy with just a handful. But we all must learn to find value in the perspective and insights of others, even when (and it is a when) we disagree. We must remember that God can and does use others to speak to us and to teach us. We have to be willing to admit when we don’t know something or when we’re not strong in a certain area, and to turn to others. We need each other.
Cleo and Bob know this. They rush back to Jerusalem. Their friends are talking all about the resurrection. They get to add in their special encounter with Jesus. And here we find the point of this story: God will always respond positively to anyone who honestly seeks God, to anyone who is truly willing to learn and be changed. God wants us to understand. The living Jesus, through his Spirit, comes up and walks beside us. God will instruct us in the way we should go, both individually and as a community of faith.
To find truth, we have to seek truth, just as Cleo and Bob did. And the truth will disrupt our stories. It will change the way that we approach and interact with the world. Jesus will confront and challenge us. Jesus will invite us to let go of our white-knuckled grip on the past and on our own agendas and to see ourselves as participants in the story of redemption that God is writing.
Cleopas and the unnamed friend are just like us. Jesus meets them on an ordinary road, in a space where they do not expect to see him. He leads them away from the previous chapters, from the seeming comfort of the past, and into a new chapter. An adventurous chapter. The opening of a story that will rock their world, and indeed the world as a whole.
Jesus shows them that they are resurrection people.
And they can never be the same again.
GRACE AND PEACE ALONG THE WAY,
MARIE
Image Courtesy of Caleb George