What Things?
Luke 24:13-35
May 8, 2011
We may be driven in this age by our science, but we still prefer magic. Around the table in the inn at Emmaus, when Jesus took the bread, blessed, broke and gave it to Cleopas and his companion, the latter two knew who he was by the way he did the meal – and at the instant of their recognition, he was gone. That’s magic, I guess, but magic in what? Breaking the bread during a communion is not guaranteed to produce Christ in our midst, and the vanishing part does not quite fit the agenda.
We remember Emmaus because of this meal, but it’s on the road to Emmaus that perhaps the more important stuff happened, the road on which we are neither here nor there, caught for the time being in a timeless state. It seems routine, but is anything but.
Two of the erstwhile disciples of Jesus, one named Cleopas, the other forever unnamed, set out sometime on Easter Day to walk to Emmaus about 11 kilometers, about the distance from the Southgate to Northgate Malls in a modern translation. Like other characters in the Gospel they just appear, we encounter them en route, as they “were going.” Why they were going is not stated, but may not be hard to figure out. They simply had to get out of Jerusalem after all that had happened, a change of scenery and venue. Their lives had been emptied out by Good Friday. The teacher in whom they had hope had been executed in the most humiliating and cruel way and hope was over. Perhaps it was safer not being in Jerusalem, to escape, yet what else could they talk about along the way?
No buildup, Jesus himself drew near and went with them, and invited himself into their conversation which he could see was intense. They stopped walking and stood still, looking terribly sad. They weren’t just talking about the weather or the Riders. Cleopas finally answered with his own question, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who doesn’t know what has been going on here?” Jesus replied, “What things?”
It isn’t often that the choice of vocabulary sets a distinct tone here, but this is one. When Cleopas addressed Jesus as a “visitor” (RSV) he is using a word that means “stranger” (NRSV) or in today’s politically charged parlance “foreigner” or “alien.” These two disciples were apparently not afraid of this stranger, but they assigned him to the category of someone who really does not belong, is not one of us. They did not recognize him and that’s been our problem ever since – Jesus is too alien for us.
Nevertheless, they did not hesitate to tell him what had happened concerning Jesus of Nazareth, “but we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” Had hoped. How painful it must have been for Jesus to listen to this summary and evaluation of his life. There was something else: some women of our company amazed us. We know by what, but when Cleopas concluded, his voice must have been trailing off relating how others investigated the women’s story, “but him they did not see.” I have often wondered why these two decided to get out of Jerusalem now that there was hope again, but it seems that they had concluded along with the other disciples in the verse immediately preceding this episode that the women’s report was “an idle tale.”
The stranger was blunt, “You foolish men!” They were back to walking and Jesus filled in all the holes in the story of scripture. Time flew and there they were at Emmaus with renewed minds and spirits. They kept Jesus from continuing and invited him to stay the night and eat with them, and when they ate, it was the way he ate and they finally recognized him in the breaking of the bread. And he was gone.
They had to put the pieces together and it was so obvious now, their hearts having sensed it already as Jesus interpreted the scriptures on the road. Now it all made sense and the only thing to do now was to run back to Jerusalem and tell the others. When they arrived, the eleven ruined their surprise as they said immediately that the Lord has risen indeed and has appeared to Simon. They then related their story to confirm the things that had happened in the breaking of the bread.
“Accepting the challenge of Christ’s call to be his disciples we worship together, care for each other, welcome strangers, and strive to be his living presence in our community.” If you don’t remember, this is our Mission Statement, our congregational covenant, and it’s on the back of our bulletin every Sunday. Some of you have bristled at the word “strangers” – we don’t perceive ourselves treating other people as strangers in this church. But to echo Jesus, don’t be foolish, you and I do, but as Cleopas and friend did, they welcomed him along for the journey and the conversation, and they learned more from him than he did from them. That still remains the case. Well before they all sat down to eat at the fellowship hour, they were no longer strangers to one another.
A church without strangers is no longer really a church. Fortunately, sitting downtown as we do, we are full of strangers and odd fellows, and they are not just the people visiting for the first time. You don’t recognize a stranger at first, that’s the obvious definition, but eventually in the breaking of the bread, in a gesture, in a look of the eyes, in a word, we see, hear, feel, even taste and smell the Christ that we carry with us and who now walks along side of us on a road to nowhere in particular which becomes our home.
Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan