How Do We Recognize Him?

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Luke 24: 13-35
April 15 2018

This is the only time in the New Testament where we meet Cleopas and his companion. One Biblical scholar imagines that the unnamed companion is Cleopas’ wife.  So let’s go with that angle and follow Mr. And Mrs. Cleopas as they travel today from Jerusalem to Emmaus, a journey of some seven miles.  They have been followers of Jesus and gladly embraced the new life he offered them.   Their hearts have been filled with joy and anticipation as they looked forward to hearing more of his word and to being witnesses again and again to his good works.  They have been renewed in body, mind and spirit by their companionship with Jesus and with other believers. And though they had to give up a lot to follow him, it was  nothing compared to what they had gained.   They thought it would go on forever.
But that was then. Now all their hopes and dreams were as dead as Jesus. The events of the past few days, ending with the crucifixion and burial of Jesus, had beaten every last shred of hope from them.

Like so many before, Jesus had seemed like a young man with promise, a mighty prophet in word and deed, and they had pinned their hopes on him.  They hoped to overthrow Rome’s heavy boot on their neck.  They hoped to break thourgh the constant bickering and party strife of the Judasim of theri day.  They had hoped that he might be someone who was brave and good and behind whose banner they could march.  They wanted Camelot.  But the chief priestand leaders of their people had handed him over to the Roman authorities, and he was crucified.
So Mr. And Mrs. Cleopas concluded that there was nothing left to do but get out of Jerusalem and go to another place, perhaps to pick up the pieces of their former lives and begin again; to turn their backs on all that had seemed so expectant and hopeful, and walk the seven miles on the road to Emmaus.
They   start out, the two of them, talking as the go,  going over and over the same ground—as if saying it one more time would change the outcome. Don’t we all do that? If we’ve lost something, don’t we keep revisiting the same spot, thinking that if we go there often enough, the lost item will miraculously appear? When something tragic happens to us, we go over the same things again and again.  It seems a little stupid on the surface, but each time we go back over the same ground, we spiral down a little deeper, and healing begins.
Well, as they are doing this a stranger joins them on the road.    It is the resurrected Jesus, but   but their hearts are so full of defeat and so devoid of faith that they do not recognize him. What’s more, when this stranger asks what they are talking about, they cannot believe that he doesn’t know all that has happened. Where has he been? And so they tell it all once more. They even tell him about the empty tomb, how some women had seen a vision of angels who said that Jesus was not dead but alive. But still, they said to the stranger, no one had seen him, so perhaps the women were just imagining something that didn’t happen.
When they had finish their side of the story, the stranger chids them. “Weren’t you listening when he told you how all of this must come to pass? Don’t you know how, from the beginning of time, the prophets had foretold exactly what has just happened, that the Messiah must suffer before he enters his glory?” As he recites Scripture to them, going all the way back to the time of Moses, they are so taken in by his words that when they reach Emmaus, they don’t want to let him go; they want to hear more, and so they invite him to stay with them. He agrees, and as they sit down to supper, the strangest thing happens. A guest in someone else’s home, the stranger  becomes the host. He picks up the bread, he blesses it, he breaks it, and he gives it to them. And in that simple but so meaningful act, something they had seen him do time and time again, their eyes are opened and they know with certainty, not only who he is, not only that this is indeed Jesus, but they also know that all he had said to them was true.
I’m not sure whether it was because the light from the lamp finally hit Jesus’ face “just so,” or because they had been there at the Last Supper and seen him do it before, or because they finally looked deeply into the face of this Stranger with whom they had been walking and talking and eating.  Whatever it was, they recognize that this is Jesus, the one who had been with them all along.  And having so realized it, he vanished.
How do WE recognize the risen Christ? It isn’t easy, is it?  We are never sure, are we?
But this story gives us some hints. Any time and any where we feel God’s closeness, any time something happens to us where God tries to get our attention, that it evidence of the presence of the Risen Christ.   Jesus comes to us in numerous guises and  numerous circumstances — Emmaus invites us to expect that intervention, to expect that God will indeed seek us and find us. Emmaus challenges us to see that it isn’t our unshakable faith or evidences of deep spirituality that connect us with the risen Christ, but our openness to his presence.
There was a young boy who decided to go and look for God.   He packed a lunch and got as far as the park before he got hungry.. He sat on a bench next to an old woman. They sat together for an hour. He offered her a Twinkie. She offered him a huge smile. When the boy got home he announced to his mother, I met God today, and she has the most wonderful smile! When the elderly lady got home, she said to her son, I met God today, and he is much younger than I’d imagine!
Maybe the reason Emmaus is such an elusive place to locate historically is because it can be almost anywhere, anytime, even here, where the Stranger joins us who is no stranger at all, the one whom we know but do not know. Emmaus is, at the least, that place wherever the scriptures are explained and the bread is broken and Christ is made real in the midst of life.
In the South Bronx of New York City there is a Lutheran Pastor by the name of Hedi Neumark, who has served for twenty years as  pastor of Transfiguration Lutheran Church.  The South Bronx is a bad section of New York City, and Transfiguration Lutheran Church is a church where the rat poison is stored next to the communion wafers under the altar.
In her book, Breathing Space,  Heidi Newmark tells the story of one of her parishioners Angie, whom she first met on a home visit as Angie lay on the sofa in her bathrobe. Angie had sent her son, Tiriq to the summer program at Transfiguration to get him out of the house and to give her some quiet time. She had indicated that she wanted Tiriq baptized, so Pastor Neumark went to visit.
Angie was depressed over her childhood when her father would come into her room at night and violate her. She was depressed over the wasted years getting high to numb her emotional pain. And she was depressed about her HIV status.
Heidi read to her the words of the letter to the Ephesians used in the Baptismal service. “God out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead… made us alive together with Christ and raised us up with him.
Little by little over the following months Angie began to rise up from her sofa and her depression and come to worship and Bible study. She even volunteered at the homeless shelter at the church and enrolled in a Lutheran adult study and leadership program known as Diakonia.
Everybody in the program had to give a presentation on Lutheran theology at some point during the study and give an explanation of why you were a Lutheran. One night, the students assigned to make their presentation did not come. And the teacher asked if anyone else would like to give his or her paper instead. Angie didn’t have a paper written, but she offered nonetheless to give her presentation on Lutheran theology and why she was a Lutheran.
Neumark writes: “Angie got a glass of water and set it in front of her. Then she slowly opened a Mary Kay jewelry case and took out a pink pouch which was filled with multicolored pills. She took out about ten pills and swallowed them, one by one, in silence. The class was riveted by this unusual theological presentation. When the last pill was swallowed, Angie stood up. ‘That’s my HIV medication,” she said. “I’m Lutheran because the church welcomed me as I am, an HIV positive, recovering addict, and a child of God filled with grace. Taking care of my health is part of my stewardship. Now by the grace of God I want to live. I want to live for my son. I want to live for the people still out there on the streets as I was. I want to live because Jesus Christ lives in me and through me. It’s not just my body anymore. I’m part of his body, a temple of the Holy Spirit’.”
Anyone here today able to identify the risen Lord as present and accounted for better than that?
Long ago, there was an appearance on Old Emmaus Road. And there are appearances still when the doors are opened and the scriptures are explained, the wine is poured and the bread is broken, and people love one another in his name.

How Do We Recognize Him?
Luke 24: 13-35
April 15 2018

This is the only time in the New Testament where we meet Cleopas and his companion. One Biblical scholar imagines that the unnamed companion is Cleopas’ wife.  So let’s go with that angle and follow Mr. And Mrs. Cleopas as they travel today from Jerusalem to Emmaus, a journey of some seven miles.  They have been followers of Jesus and gladly embraced the new life he offered them.   Their hearts have been filled with joy and anticipation as they looked forward to hearing more of his word and to being witnesses again and again to his good works.  They have been renewed in body, mind and spirit by their companionship with Jesus and with other believers. And though they had to give up a lot to follow him, it was  nothing compared to what they had gained.   They thought it would go on forever.
But that was then. Now all their hopes and dreams were as dead as Jesus. The events of the past few days, ending with the crucifixion and burial of Jesus, had beaten every last shred of hope from them.

Like so many before, Jesus had seemed like a young man with promise, a mighty prophet in word and deed, and they had pinned their hopes on him.  They hoped to overthrow Rome’s heavy boot on their neck.  They hoped to break thourgh the constant bickering and party strife of the Judasim of theri day.  They had hoped that he might be someone who was brave and good and behind whose banner they could march.  They wanted Camelot.  But the chief priestand leaders of their people had handed him over to the Roman authorities, and he was crucified.
So Mr. And Mrs. Cleopas concluded that there was nothing left to do but get out of Jerusalem and go to another place, perhaps to pick up the pieces of their former lives and begin again; to turn their backs on all that had seemed so expectant and hopeful, and walk the seven miles on the road to Emmaus.
They   start out, the two of them, talking as the go,  going over and over the same ground—as if saying it one more time would change the outcome. Don’t we all do that? If we’ve lost something, don’t we keep revisiting the same spot, thinking that if we go there often enough, the lost item will miraculously appear? When something tragic happens to us, we go over the same things again and again.  It seems a little stupid on the surface, but each time we go back over the same ground, we spiral down a little deeper, and healing begins.
Well, as they are doing this a stranger joins them on the road.    It is the resurrected Jesus, but   but their hearts are so full of defeat and so devoid of faith that they do not recognize him. What’s more, when this stranger asks what they are talking about, they cannot believe that he doesn’t know all that has happened. Where has he been? And so they tell it all once more. They even tell him about the empty tomb, how some women had seen a vision of angels who said that Jesus was not dead but alive. But still, they said to the stranger, no one had seen him, so perhaps the women were just imagining something that didn’t happen.
When they had finish their side of the story, the stranger chids them. “Weren’t you listening when he told you how all of this must come to pass? Don’t you know how, from the beginning of time, the prophets had foretold exactly what has just happened, that the Messiah must suffer before he enters his glory?” As he recites Scripture to them, going all the way back to the time of Moses, they are so taken in by his words that when they reach Emmaus, they don’t want to let him go; they want to hear more, and so they invite him to stay with them. He agrees, and as they sit down to supper, the strangest thing happens. A guest in someone else’s home, the stranger  becomes the host. He picks up the bread, he blesses it, he breaks it, and he gives it to them. And in that simple but so meaningful act, something they had seen him do time and time again, their eyes are opened and they know with certainty, not only who he is, not only that this is indeed Jesus, but they also know that all he had said to them was true.
I’m not sure whether it was because the light from the lamp finally hit Jesus’ face “just so,” or because they had been there at the Last Supper and seen him do it before, or because they finally looked deeply into the face of this Stranger with whom they had been walking and talking and eating.  Whatever it was, they recognize that this is Jesus, the one who had been with them all along.  And having so realized it, he vanished.
How do WE recognize the risen Christ? It isn’t easy, is it?  We are never sure, are we?
But this story gives us some hints. Any time and any where we feel God’s closeness, any time something happens to us where God tries to get our attention, that it evidence of the presence of the Risen Christ.   Jesus comes to us in numerous guises and  numerous circumstances — Emmaus invites us to expect that intervention, to expect that God will indeed seek us and find us. Emmaus challenges us to see that it isn’t our unshakable faith or evidences of deep spirituality that connect us with the risen Christ, but our openness to his presence.
There was a young boy who decided to go and look for God.   He packed a lunch and got as far as the park before he got hungry.. He sat on a bench next to an old woman. They sat together for an hour. He offered her a Twinkie. She offered him a huge smile. When the boy got home he announced to his mother, I met God today, and she has the most wonderful smile! When the elderly lady got home, she said to her son, I met God today, and he is much younger than I’d imagine!
Maybe the reason Emmaus is such an elusive place to locate historically is because it can be almost anywhere, anytime, even here, where the Stranger joins us who is no stranger at all, the one whom we know but do not know. Emmaus is, at the least, that place wherever the scriptures are explained and the bread is broken and Christ is made real in the midst of life.
In the South Bronx of New York City there is a Lutheran Pastor by the name of Hedi Neumark, who has served for twenty years as  pastor of Transfiguration Lutheran Church.  The South Bronx is a bad section of New York City, and Transfiguration Lutheran Church is a church where the rat poison is stored next to the communion wafers under the altar.
In her book, Breathing Space,  Heidi Newmark tells the story of one of her parishioners Angie, whom she first met on a home visit as Angie lay on the sofa in her bathrobe. Angie had sent her son, Tiriq to the summer program at Transfiguration to get him out of the house and to give her some quiet time. She had indicated that she wanted Tiriq baptized, so Pastor Neumark went to visit.
Angie was depressed over her childhood when her father would come into her room at night and violate her. She was depressed over the wasted years getting high to numb her emotional pain. And she was depressed about her HIV status.
Heidi read to her the words of the letter to the Ephesians used in the Baptismal service. “God out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead… made us alive together with Christ and raised us up with him.
Little by little over the following months Angie began to rise up from her sofa and her depression and come to worship and Bible study. She even volunteered at the homeless shelter at the church and enrolled in a Lutheran adult study and leadership program known as Diakonia.
Everybody in the program had to give a presentation on Lutheran theology at some point during the study and give an explanation of why you were a Lutheran. One night, the students assigned to make their presentation did not come. And the teacher asked if anyone else would like to give his or her paper instead. Angie didn’t have a paper written, but she offered nonetheless to give her presentation on Lutheran theology and why she was a Lutheran.
Neumark writes: “Angie got a glass of water and set it in front of her. Then she slowly opened a Mary Kay jewelry case and took out a pink pouch which was filled with multicolored pills. She took out about ten pills and swallowed them, one by one, in silence. The class was riveted by this unusual theological presentation. When the last pill was swallowed, Angie stood up. ‘That’s my HIV medication,” she said. “I’m Lutheran because the church welcomed me as I am, an HIV positive, recovering addict, and a child of God filled with grace. Taking care of my health is part of my stewardship. Now by the grace of God I want to live. I want to live for my son. I want to live for the people still out there on the streets as I was. I want to live because Jesus Christ lives in me and through me. It’s not just my body anymore. I’m part of his body, a temple of the Holy Spirit’.”
Anyone here today able to identify the risen Lord as present and accounted for better than that?
Long ago, there was an appearance on Old Emmaus Road. And there are appearances still when the doors are opened and the scriptures are explained, the wine is poured and the bread is broken, and people love one another in his name.

Categories: Weekly Sermon

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