First Lutheran Church
April 26, 2020 + The Third Sunday in Easter
Luke 24:13-35 13Now on that same day (when Jesus had appeared to Mary Magdalene,) two (disciples) were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. 18Then 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?” 19He 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, 20and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21But 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. 22Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23and 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. 24Some 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.” 25Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” 27Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
28As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29But 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. 30When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32They 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?” 33That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” 35Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
“But We Had Hoped”
Rev. Greg Ronning
When we were first instructed to shelter in place as a response to the COVID-19 pandemic, I was very hopeful that we would meet again as a congregation on Easter Sunday. But as things unfolded, after about a week, I quickly realized that date was not going to be possible. So, I shifted my hope a few weeks down the road, to the middle of May, that seemed reasonable. But now that date seems pretty unlikely. So now, I find myself hoping that we just might be able to gather together for church in person on the last Sunday of May, May 31st, the Day of Pentecost!
And you know what, that be such a great date! Pentecost, the day we celebrate as the birthday of the church, the day when we became the body of Christ, God’s “re-membered” presence on earth. The day God becomes flesh again, in - with - and through us - as we gather together, faithful people engaged in faithful things, God working through our hands, our feet, our voices, and our hearts and minds. And who knows, that might be the date. Wouldn’t that be great, wouldn’t that be poetic, - wouldn’t that be prophetic! But, to be honest, my hope has become weary, spent, despondent, perhaps even “hope-less.”
In today’s appointed Gospel two of the disciples find themselves on the road to a place called Emmaus. Emmaus, the place they have chosen to “go back to” after witnessing the execution of Jesus at the hands of the religious and civil authorities. The greatest experience of their life had just come to an abrupt and unexpected end. The person they had been following for years, the person who opened their eyes to God’s kingdom, the person who spoke words in a way that words have never been spoken before, the person whose hands comforted and healed, the person whose heart was open and loving beyond measure, the person they believed to be the long-awaited Messiah; this person whom they loved, whom they loved dearly, this person who loved them beyond measure, Jesus; was suddenly silenced, gone, dead.
On the road to Emmaus, with dreams shattered, in a moment of deep disappointment, these two disciples utter what Theologian David Loose calls “four of the saddest words” found in the scriptures, “But we had hoped …”
“But we had hoped,” perhaps this is the “place” where we all can enter into this story, - through these four words. Maybe “this” is where today’s gospel story becomes part of our story, the place where scripture becomes that word of divine encounter. Perhaps it is here, on the road to Emmaus, where the disciples are found uttering words we all know, words of great sadness spoken in a time of deep disappointment. Perhaps this is where we make the connection. Perhaps we too, in the midst of these hard days that we are now experiencing, can be found with those disciples on the road to Emmaus, walking along in their shoes - our hope “fleeting away” with each step.
“Head Down, Head Long”
By Greg Ronning
What do you do, Where do you go,
When it all comes to an end?
What do you say, How do you feel,
Back on the road again?
Head down, head long, A sad broken song
What do you do, Where do you go,
When it all comes to an end?
Can you begin, Live again,
When love has been lost?
Can you imagine a brand new day
Once the lines have been crossed?
Head down, head long, So far gone
Can you begin, Live again,
When love has been lost?
Can you go home, Can you get back,
Once the bridge has been burned?
After the fire, Marked by the ash
Can truth be unlearned?
Head down, head long, No place to belong
Can you go home, Can you get back,
Once the bridge has been burned?
What do you do, Where do you go,
When love comes to an end?
What do you say, How do you feel,
Can you begin again? Can you begin again?
Can you begin again? Can you begin again?
Unfortunately, life is often filled with disappointments, events and circumstances that put us on the road to Emmaus; having to pack up your things when a job comes to an unexpected end, suffering an injustice, being marginalized for simply being who you are, moving on when a relationship runs out, that stumble when an addiction you thought was gone - returns, leaving the hospital alone - after the death of a loved one, experiencing a pandemic that is changing everything about life - all around you; “But we had hoped …”
In “The Magnificent Defeat,” Frederick Buechner describes “Emmaus” as “that place we run to when we have lost hope or don’t know what to do, the place of escape, of forgetting, of giving up, of deadening our sense and our minds and maybe even our hearts, too.”
“But we had hoped…,” Words spoken by those first disciples when it all seemed to be coming to an end; “But we had hoped,” words we too have spoken in the midst of this pandemic we are now experiencing; “But we had hoped,” words that connect us to this Easter story; “But we had hoped,” words that put us right beside those first disciples, “head down, head long,” on the road to Emmaus.
Thankfully the story does not end here, - in despair, stuck along the way, forever on the road to Emmaus; for even as those sad words are spoken, “But we had hoped,” they attract the interest of a stranger traveling on that same road. And suddenly things begin to change as this stranger engages the disciples in the midst of their grief and despair. He asks questions, he speaks truths, he offers hope; as he slowly and gently reveals the true pattern of faith; a pattern of death and resurrection, death that leads to new life, the spring that always follows the winter, the very heart of the promise of the gospel. The disciples would later recall that as this stranger spoke with them, their hearts began to burn with a strange new passion.
As the day ends, as they reach the village of Emmaus, the place where they had planned to hide away in their fears and confusion, their pain and their grief, in the very grip of death; As the day ends, perhaps unknowingly in a moment of hidden faith, they are compelled to invite this stranger to stay with them, "Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over."
And the invitation is accepted, and as bread is broken, as hospitality is practiced, the stranger is revealed as Christ. In a moment of grace their eyes are opened even as “Christ the Stranger” vanishes. Yet “now,” all things have been made new, those with eyes “see,” and those with ears “hear,” and hearts and minds believe in promises true. And in a bold faithful response the disciples suddenly find themselves back on the road, going in a different direction. That very hour they leave Emmaus and head back to Jerusalem.
This morning we gather, not physically - but surely in the Spirit, and perhaps more united in our fear and despair than we care to admit. None the less, as we gather, this stranger is once again in our midst; present in our grief, present in our despair, and even present in our hopelessness; eager to meet up with us on the journey of life, the journey of faith, gracefully present no matter where we might be on that journey.
So it is that we listen to the Easter story together this morning, trusting that in a word made alive, that story of death and resurrection might find its way into the very depths of our hearts. Trusting that it might makes us more aware, in this very moment, of that Living Word spoken by “Christ the Stranger.” Trusting that at the end of this particular journey, we will once again all be gathered together here in this place, breaking bread and sharing wine, sharing fully in the gift of community.
Until then, as we find ourselves on that road to Emmaus; May we be reminded that we are a people of death and resurrection; May we be blessed by encounters with strangers who speak the truth; May we be inspired by conversations that cause our hearts to burn with passion; And may all these things, all the good things of God, the grace of Christ, and the unity of the Holy Spirit, fill us with hope. Amen.