(Luke 24.13-35) (Easter 4)
12 May 2019 – © Neil Millar
Christ is risen, he is risen indeed! For the past four Sundays this declaration has marked the opening of our worship, it’s the great Christian affirmation and when things are going well it’s a joy to proclaim it. But what about when things aren’t so great; when our world feels dark, difficult and unpromising, when relationships are strained or we’re managing poor health or depression and nothing seems to be changing; what about when someone we love is suffering or has died…? In difficult times, to struggling ears, the Easter affirmation can sound pretty dissonant. When the minister calls, ‘Christ is risen’, some of us might be tempted to reply, ‘Well, so what? It doesn’t feel much like that in my life.’
What does it mean for him to ‘easter in us’ (to use that evocative phrase of Gerard Manley Hopkins)? How do we get onto the ‘inside’ of resurrection? I’ve been holding these questions as I’ve pondered today’s reading and I think there are clues in the story, I say that, because in these two disciples on that road to Emmaus, I see two people who begin Easter feeling so-so (so what?) — who are burdened and blinded by their experience of grief and disappointment — but who end up feeling release and joy. Let’s take a closer look at what unfolded.
The scene opens with the two ordinary followers of Jesus making their way to a village called Emmaus. I say ordinary, because it wasn’t any of the big-name apostles. We know that one of them was called Cleopas but we don’t even know the other one’s name. The fact that in Luke’s account the first resurrection appearance is not to anyone famous (even in gospel
terms) not Peter, not John, not Mary Magdalen, but to a couple of struggling ‘nobodies’ helps me to identify with this story. For goodness sakes, it could’ve been one of us! Anyway, back to the story. Christ has risen, but their hearts are heavy; it’s Easter day, but as far as they’re concerned it doesn’t feel like it — they’re on still on the ‘outside’ and nothing seems to have changed.
As we pick it up, they’re walking along talking about all that had taken place these past days. In the midst of their discussion, they’re joined by a stranger. Of course, we know who it is, but their eyes are kept from recognising. So now, he’s actually physically present, they can see him, touch him, but still no difference — still on the ‘outside’. So, what’s in the way? Were they somehow blinded by the Spirit, or is there a more natural explanation? We’re not told directly, but reading between the lines it’s pretty clear they weren’t expecting him. As far as they’re concerned, he’s dead. On top of that, they’re very much caught up in their own emotions and concerns. In situations like this, it is hard to see beyond ourselves.
This situation of unrecognition persists as Jesus asks about the things they’re discussing. For the reader, the scene becomes increasingly comical as they accuse him of being the only person in Jerusalem not to know what’s happened. ‘What things?’ he asks, clearly stringing them on (19). ‘The things about Jesus of Nazareth’, they reply. ‘He was a prophet mighty in deed and word… and 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.’ Now, I have to say, I think this is a telling comment – a key clue to the cause of their struggle. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. In other words, we were expecting a very different outcome, we expected him to be a conqueror — to rid us of Roman occupation and put
us back on top as a great nation; we expected him to ‘win’, for us to win, but they killed him… Yes, we had high hopes but that’s all been dashed, we didn’t reckon with his rejection (or what that would mean for us) and we’re disappointed and confused.
The irony is that he’s right there with them, alive with liberating power, and they can’t see it. Their misplaced expectations are blinding; keeping them on the outside of resurrection. And, maybe that’s can happen for us.
Well, at this point, there’s a change in Jesus, as if he’s frustrated. ‘Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared’, he says (25). In other words, I’m frustrated because your theology, your expectations of me and what’s happened are wrong; they’re killing your faith and blinding you to what’s possible. ‘Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter his glory?’ ‘Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets he interpreted to them the things about himself in all these scriptures.’
Now as I see it, he’s doing two things to help them get on the inside of his resurrection. First, correcting their misguided understanding of how God’s liberating plan is unfolding – not through conquering some existing external power and setting his followers up instead, but by suffering and breaking the power of death. And second, he’s placing their experience against the larger horizon of God’s story. While they cling to misguided expectations they’re trapped in disappointment and struggle; they’re blind to his presence, locked out of resurrection. But as they catch a glimpse of how their experience connects to the bigger picture, something dawns, something on the inside shifts. We know, because of what they say later at the meal: ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking with us
on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us’ (32)? The Word was spoken and their hearts burned. He’s ‘eastering’ in them…
And, that shift continues – they become less focused on their disappointment, and more attentive to the stranger walking with them, and of their need/desire to stay connected. When they arrive at Emmaus, he makes as if to walk on, (was he testing their readiness?), but they urge him strongly to stay. He accepts, and then in another significant twist their guest becomes their host. He takes the bread, blesses, breaks and gives it to them, and in that moment: ‘their eyes are opened, and they recognise him’ (31). Things were ‘dawning’ as they talked on the road, as their story was located in its bigger context. But this is the moment of recognition. Why? Why when they receive the bread? Why not earlier?
Surely there’s something here about remembering, reconnecting with their life together and earlier meals — the feeding of the five thousand (9.16) and the last supper. ‘This is my body which is given for you’, he’d said (22.19), ‘do this in remembrance of me’. And this remembering is a bodily matter, a whole body, whole-of-self encounter. There’s something here about being nourished… letting ourselves receive. Easter isn’t just about what we understand, it’s about involvement. Luke is affirming the importance of presence, embodied connection, of receiving — symbolised and realised in the sharing of God’s hospitality — holy communion. And there’s one more dynamic (action of participation) that makes a difference in this story — bearing witness.
The word was spoken and their hearts burned; the bread was broken and their eyes were opened; and thirdly, they bore witness and Jesus appeared. Do we see that? This story, the story of Christ ‘eastering’ in them doesn’t end with recognition, it ends with the opening of their mouths, their
lives!! As soon as they recognised him, Jesus vanished from their sight. ‘And that same hour’, it says (33), ‘they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions…And they told them what happened on the road and how he had been made known in the breaking of the bread. Then, while they were talking about this (giving their testimony, their witness), Jesus himself stood among them and said, “Peace be with you”.
Peace at last! Now they’re on the inside — from ‘so what’ on Easter morning to ‘guess what’ on Easter night, from anxiety and alienation to animation, exultation, intimate connection with the living Christ!! And what made the difference? Well, it was a journey, a journey in which they allowed the word of God to refine their understanding, the hospitality of God to nourish their participation, and their experience of God to inspire their living.
The word was spoken and their hearts burned; the bread was broken and their eyes were opened; they gave their witness and Jesus appeared — word, sacrament and mission, three practices for resurrection. No doubt, their lives, like ours, continued to have challenges. Issues don’t magically go away after Easter, but they can be engaged in a different spirit, framed in a different context, lived with a different energy when we’re on this journey.
We don’t know in advance where our journey will take us, but this story, these disciples, invite and encourage us to entrust ourselves to the way, and discover with them that Christ is risen, risen indeed!
https://stninians.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/NM.Lk24.13-35.pdf