Easter 3

Luke 24:13-49

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.

In one of his stories about Lake Woebegone, Garrison Keeler once spoke of the days off from school that students and teachers get as “Easter break.” The context was the weather in Minnesota, and he said that they continued to call the days off in the spring “Easter break” because the word Easter refers to the Christian tradition of believing in things hoped for but not yet seen. It’s hardly spring in Minnesota in early April, according to Mr. Keeler. Having never been there, I’ll have to take his word for it.

Hebrews 11:1 defines faith for us. The old King James version of the Bible uses these words: “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” It is what our faith tradition is built upon—the sincere hope for, or assurance (as other translations of the Bible call it) of things hoped for but not yet seen. Our faith story is filled with this kind of thing—the promise of our brother Moses to the Israelites that they would get to the promised land, finally knowing that he would never live there; the courage of our brother Samuel to answer when the Lord called though he could not see God when God called; the face of Christ turned toward Jerusalem when all he could see there was anger and destruction, not yet the empty tomb; the prophecy of our brother Martin who, 40 years ago, saw a vision of today, when people of all races would have what would be something resembling more equality in live and rights than had ever been known in this country before; our own encounters with the living Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the Almighty God that we can neither explain nor photograph—our faith is an assurance of life hoped for but not yet seen.

I believe that the best understanding we as human beings can ever have of what resurrection feels and looks like is that thing we do after we have lost a loved one. You know what I mean—we get together in groups of 2 or 3 or 15 and share memories and stories of time and experiences we have shared. This so often happens around a table at a meal. We tell our favorite stories—the ones that make us laugh out loud or cry a tear of remembrance and joy for the one who has died. But in those precious moments of remembrance, when we are laughing and wiping away tears of remembrance, for me it is as if the one who has gone away has returned, but in a different and now unchangeable way.

Dave and I have his grandmother’s dining room suit in our home. It contains a china cabinet, a buffet, and a table with 6 chairs. It is the same table where I sat in November 6 years ago and hurriedly wrote down my thoughts to put them together into a sermon and service of death and resurrection for Daddy Howard—that’s Dave’s grandfather—when he died very suddenly of an aortic aneurism before we could even get over to Birmingham after we got the call that he had been taken to the hospital. But whenever we remember a funny story about him or admire one of his many admirable characteristics, I feel his presence in a way that is different than when he had a physical body and would sit around that table and tell me for the 5th or 6th time how he met Geraldine, Dave’s grandmother. It’s an eternal presence now that doesn’t leave when Christmas is over. He’s just there. And when I sit down there to share a meal with other folks now that he’s gone, he’s still there.

Not long ago I was sitting there with my mother, father, husband, sister, and her fiancé and realized that at the same table I had prepared to say good bye to one family member and hello to another. Around that piece of wood with legs, and in those chairs with old chair bottoms that need to be replaced, many important family moments have been shared. It is as if our home cannot contain all the lives represented at that table.

But the kingdom of God can. The reign of God in Christ and by the Holy Spirit brings us into communion with one another in the breaking of bread. When we eat together, when we feed together, when we receive nourishment from one another, when we come here empty and leave full, or when we come here full and leave empty of the things that crowd God out, when we embrace new little ones like Adelaide and her family and say to them that there are places set for them at the table of the family of God—in those holy moments, he is made known to us. And not in a way that recalls the past but in a way that sets our own faces and lives toward the future.

What does his presence make known to us? What about the future do you have hope for with no real visible sign that it has yet or will come to pass? What problems do you hold on to, just knowing that if you work on them hard enough you’ll be able to fix them yourself? What table fellowship draws you into the fellowship of God? If you do not have a table where the presence of Christ and all those who have gone before us is made known to you, then hear today the invitation to the Lord’s table, where all who desire to be known are invited to gather, where the body of blood of Christ are eternally offered to us without price or manipulation, where the holy scriptures are revealed to us, where we come together from places of difference and sometimes struggle, where the entire family of God at one time can join together in communion with the presence of Christ, in the mysterious way that only Christ can do.

In the breaking of bread. In the sharing. In the prayers. In the revelation of scripture. In the tears of joy and remembrance we show to one another. In the hand offered to one who needs help. In the arm held around the child who’s not sure what to do. In the Holy Spirit who moves us from our comfortable seat in this room to be humbled and celebrate the extraordinary love and presence of Christ that is now unchanging.

What Cleopas and his friend told the others was that Jesus was with them, that they didn’t know it at first, but that he was there at the table, in the breaking of bread. It’s what we do here all the time, friends—break bread in the name and presence of Christ. I invite you to let him be made known to you today in bread and cup. Let him be with you, reveal things to you, make your heart burn for desire of his presence, and lead you with the guidance of the Holy Spirit to go and tell others whom you have known.

Taste and see the goodness of the Lord. Amen.