Easter III                                                     The Rev'd David C Cobb

Acts 2:14a, 36-47;                                       Solemn High Mass

Luke 24:13-35                                              April 6, 2008

If it were necessary that the Christ suffer and then enter into his glory… perhaps there is another necessity.  Not as fundamental, but certainly relentless.  We have to find our place with Cleopas and the unnamed companion on this pilgrimage—leaving behind Jerusalem and our hopes and theologies- walking with only darkened hopes towards Emmaus. 

Lent and the rites of Holy Week all have a focus—they lead towards baptism and the renewal of baptismal identity.  This is who we are as Christians—we carry this faith, and we are brought into these prayers and to the breaking of bread—and then we have a way of life to get on with.  The Acts reading—bridges Easter Day when Christ's resurrection re-shaped the creation—and Pentecost- when the Church learned to live in this new world.  Those familiar words describing the life of the baptized are worth remembering—“They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the prayers and the breaking of the bread;  this bright report of the Church's first days goes on to situate this new community within the goodwill of all the people, even as we would lead the baptismal covenant on to promise of witness and service—to proclaim the good news, to serve, and to respect the dignity of all. 

And yet, the life of the baptized hardly ever flows in such unbroken praise.  The point you have to expect- at least that most of us walk through is more like the beginning of today's Gospel then like the account from Acts. 

Easter begins in a sense of absence and emptiness.  The disciples report that the women found the tomb empty—and they are honest enough to recognize it as an uncertain sign.  They know that the apostles went to look—and found the uncertain sign of emptiness, but Him, they did not see.  And so, Cleopas and his companion, leaave Jerusalem , and all of that behind them and they're returning to a world without Jesus. 

You and I can expect to take our own walk to Emmaus in about the same frame of mind.  But this is not reason for despair.  You see- faith and prayer;  conviction and grace-filled experience—these things are not the thing itself.  What saves us—what we finally have to trust—is not our belief or the Church's faith—but Jesus Christ;  and our imagination might reach as far as he wants us to go—but then again, they did not expect what happened, we might not be any better prepared then they.  .  Our belief might may be solid and broad —still, we will face questions we can't answer or challenges beyond our resources.  Most of us do find moments—sometimes far more than moments- when we do not have words and the silence aches within us—and we walk the Emmaus road; with those sad words— we had hoped.   Do not flatter yourself that your faith will not be tested, that the world will not throw at you questions that you can not answer, that God has nothing more to give or ask of you.  We all find ourselves at a point where all that we have known of God is not enough; where what we had hoped for seems to be only a dead end; and where the one thing we can say about Jesus, is simply this:  Him they did not see.  New Christians, Christians growing in faith and practice—pretty much any of us need to expect doubt and mis-directed hope.  What do you do, when the Tomb is just empty and what you had hoped, seems not to be what God is doing? 

The thing that saved Cleopas; is this:  He let the stranger into the conversation and he laid out his disappointments and fears, his shattered convictions and the failure that weighed on him.  “How are you”;  “Fine”.  That's what I'm likely to have said..  Just falling silent when the stranger falls into step with us—that will not allow conversation and question, insights and challenges to what I know.  You can expect that your faith will be challenged and tested—and that sometimes the Tomb will seem empty and nothing more.   Its not the conversation you have with everyone, and idle chatter about our faith crisis isn't the point.  But if you watch, the stranger who can listen and ask the right question  will catch up with you.  And you can expect, that somewhere, from a book or a conversation in a discussion group;  from talking with a spiritual director or even from a stranger;   someone can help you listen to scripture and the tradition afresh—and someone can help you see what you could not possibly have seen before.  We really do need each other—the communion of saints does include the ways in which your faith and insight answers my doubt and challenges my distrust. 

It is a great story Luke tells—the image of Jesus as the stranger is one we need to hold close at hand—the more we think we know and the closer we think we follow—we need all the more openness to realize that we might not recognize him, that the sheer weight of what we had hoped might be what keeps our eyes from recognizing him.  God does give us strangers sometimes—and if we can only listen—we might learn to hope for what will not disappoint and to read more clearly—the times and the scriptures. 

Jesus the stranger carried them back through the scriptures.   When what you believe and what you know of God isn't enough—and when the sheer force of events makes you question what you believed—chances are that you will find insight and perspective from the words you've heard a thousand times before.  If we are going to recognize in ourselves- hatred or malice, silent co-operation with evil or something more insidious, its likely to be from someone who sees in the witness of scripture something we will not see.   Scripture, in the hands of the stranger God sends, will change us.  Easter sends us back to the scripture – now, if that kind of thing happened, then what was all of that about?  And so, the stranger led them in to some serious bible study- that did more than confirm their expectations or reassure their assumptions- but it opened their imaginations and stirred their hearts.  Stay with us, they ask. 

The next moments are – for me at least—some of the most compelling moments in the accounts of the Risen Lord—because they are the moments I've known.  Its what we are about to do here.  The offertory- the great thanksgiving, the breaking and the communion. He took bread, blessed and broke it. 

That same day- the first day of the week;  and again the next first day of the week—soon daily and always on the first day—Cleopas and his companion, the eleven; the three thousand who joined them on Pentecost after Peter preached—and week by week, first day by first day until this day—and those of us here—more than on that First First Day, if fewer than on Pentecost- but still it continues:  the apostles teaching and fellowship, the prayers and the breaking of the bread. 

        Glad and generous hearts – Acts records. 

Burning hearts in Emmaus, and now this simple and yet expansive action is repeated and gathers up our hearts and minds; our souls and bodies—and makes this moment Easter—this moment Pentecost, this moment the Kingdom for which Christ taught us to pray.  Even more precious- it might be in this moment that your questions and doubts, your fears and uncertainties are illuminated and transformed. 

He had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.   

Whatever our questions and no matter what doubts leave us walking with Cleopas and no matter how our hopes seem to have led in the wrong direction;  we come back to this action.  A portion of this creation is given and set aside to be blessed and to carry within itself—the passion, the death, resurrection and ascension.  We hold up the signs of that body—broken and risen; present and yet not a thing we can grasp.  Without losing the need to understand; and without giving up the doubts that will refine our faith; without forgetting our own failings and without losing sight of our mortality—we grasp grace in our hands, we find ourselves drawn into Christ and we experience the full glory of God's creation and restoration of our lives. 

This is the last of the Easter appearances we will hear for the season—the Church Year turns to other ways of reflecting on the resurrection; even as Easter Day and Holy Week and all that went before slides farther from our crowded attention.  So this last Gospel reminds us not to be surprised when we face the empty tomb with questions and when our hopes need to be re-shaped.   Jesus, the stranger—the one we do not recognize and have not yet known—will take us back through the words we thought we'd known and will repeat the actions we can not live without.  Foolish and slow of heart?  Well that's not so bad; here is wisdom and here is sustenance for the journey;  here is truth and grace that can make glad our hearts even as they burn to speak and live this great joy.