The Journey to Emmaus -- Easter III--Year A--April 6, 2008

The Reverend David R. Williams

Eternal God, your Son Jesus Christ is the way, the truth and the life of all creation; grant us grace to walk in his way, to rejoice in his truth, and to share his risen life. Amen.

“Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place these days?” Cleopas sadly asks their new walking companion. 

Jesus, of course, is the stranger.  Cleopas and the other disciple do not recognize Jesus.  Is this not mysterious?  The disciples have been with Jesus for years.  They have witnessed miraculous healings and heard wise dialogues between Jesus and state and religious authorities. The disciples have listened to outstanding preaching by Jesus.  

As two disciples walk from the city to this little known village called Emmaus, they are joined by a stranger.  The stranger interrupts the two disciples’ vibrant conversation with a dumb question, “What are you talking about?”

Today, the third Sunday of Easter, we share one more story of an appearance by Jesus after his death on the cross.  On the first Sunday of Easter, we heard of Mary Magdalene and the other Mary.  “Greetings!” the resurrected Jesus says to the Marys.

Last week, the dialogue between Jesus and Thomas was highlighted.  Until Thomas actually touched the wounds of Jesus, Thomas was unable to believe this preposterous story of resurrection. 

In my first years as a priest of the Episcopal Church, I wrestled with the concept of Resurrection.  For me, the image of Jesus in life was clear:  God-incarnate became part of the lives of God’s creation.  Jesus, the healer, the preacher, the maverick, the wanderer, the revolutionary all made great sense.  And the image of the Holy Spirit, the living spirit of God bringing consolation, hope, and promise into a broken world was powerful and clear to me, still in my twenties, starting parish ministry as a vicar in Williamstown, West Virginia.

But the dead Jesus? The dead, executed Jesus? The dead, mortal Jesus in brilliant resurrection? The newly-risen Jesus perplexed this young priest, especially during annual Easter celebrations.  How does one explain Resurrection?  How does one preach on Resurrection?

“The Resurrection must be God’s consummation of God’s saving activity for the world,” one textbook says, “and mankind, in which he irrevocably communicates himself to the world to the Son whom the Resurrection has definitely identified, and thus with eschatological conclusiveness accepts the world to its own salvation, to that all that remains is to disclose and give effect to what has already happened in the Resurrection.”

“Excuse me, what are you talking about?” 

The two disciples, Cleopas and another unnamed one are filled with emotional conversation because of what they know.  They know their beloved friend, mentor, Rabbi, has been executed.  He has died and he has been buried. 

“What planet are you living on?” might be a contemporary way of stating the disciples’ frustration with the stranger.   

The two disciples are upset, they are grieving; they are resentful, and utterly frightened.   We can imagine them brimming over with emotion, talking over one another as they try to explain to this stranger just what has been happening.

Obviously, they do not know anything yet about “resurrection.”

The group walks toward Emmaus, away from the heart of the city where their last treasured moments with Jesus occurred. There, at the dinner table, Jesus shared bread and he shared wine – just before he was arrested. 

The group is escaping, like you and I might escape – to a movie, to a Starbucks or to read a second-rate novel.  Escaping to Emmaus might be as coming to church if for us when we feel just desolate, empty, sad that the world seems to hold nothing sacred, that the wisest and bravest sicken and die for no apparent reason.  To paraphrase the writer Frederick Buechner, Emmaus might be that place of refuge for us when we feel shaken to the core, when “the noblest ideas of love, freedom and justice have been twisted out of shape by selfish people for selfish ends.” 

We need to “go to Emmaus” to get ourselves together.  Cleopas and the other disciple and now the uninformed stranger are sharing this journey now, it seems.

So, explain to me, what does a Resurrected Jesus look like? How can a Resurrected Jesus be revealed to us people of faith?

How do we experience the miracle of the Resurrection Presence?  How do we find the proof of Resurrection? One of the earliest saints of the Church, St. Augustine, says that he had lost much time in the beginning of his Christian experience by trying to find God outwardly rather than by seeking inwardly.  The miracle of Emmaus happens when we turn the heart toward the Risen One with the openness of a child.

A story is told about a student being examined for a degree in Physics at the University of Copenhagen.  “Describe how to determine the height of a skyscraper using a barometer,” the professor asks the student.

“You tie a long piece of string to the neck of the barometer, then lower the barometer from the roof of the skyscraper to the ground. The length of the string plus the length of the barometer will equal the height of the building,” the student responds. 

The original answer so incenses the examiner that the student is summarily failed.  Upon appeal, on the grounds that the answer is indisputable correct, the professor appoints an independent examiner to deliberate based on the judgment that the student, although correct, showed no noticeable knowledge of physics. 

The new examiner allows the student five minutes to provide a verbal answer showing at least minimal familiarity with physics. 

After scratching his head and pondering for two or three minutes, the student says, “You could take the barometer up to the roof of the skyscraper, drop it over the edge, and measure the time it takes to reach the ground.  The height of the building can then be worked out from a standard mathematical formula, but bad luck on the barometer.  If you merely wanted to be boringly orthodox about it, you could use the barometer to measure the air pressure on the roof of the skyscraper and on the ground, and convert the difference in milibars into feet to give the height of the building.  But since we are constantly being exhorted to exercise independence of mind and originality of thought, undoubtedly the best way would be to knock on the janitor’s door and say to him, “Would you like a nice new barometer, I will give you this one – if you tell me the height of this skyscraper.”  There is a rumor that this creative student went on to win a Nobel Prize.

One Easter Sunday, in Eucharistic prayer at my little Church in West Virginia, I raised the bread and, as I broke it in two, I saw something I had not seen before.  There in the congregation was Skinny Nelson, who had just a few months earlier lost a nephew in an automobile accident.  There was Doc Wilson who, with two amputated legs from his service in the Korean War, had made his way up the stairs (a precarious climb even with his crutches) into the church sanctuary to celebrate Easter Sunday.  I noticed Virginia and George Goble, oldest members of the congregation, holding hands, and there was Betty Patterson, angry as she could be about all the changes in the Book of Common Prayer, but still in her pew, worshipping with the congregation.   The eyes of my friends were focused, not on me, but upward, on the bread being broken. 

I witnessed, for the first time, really, the Resurrection – the Easter Resurrection. 

No number of books, no hours of study and research will help any of us as we travel on our very personal roads to Emmaus.  Keeping our eyes and ears open to the ordinary –to the janitor in the hallway, the person on the sidewalk, the stranger in the inn, the piece of bread still to be blessed, the chalice of wine not yet passed, will invite us to be witnesses to and participants in the Resurrection.  

In turn, our hearts may burn within us.

Amen.