Along the Way

It was time to go…somewhere. They couldn’t stay in Jerusalem. No reason to stay anyway. Was it really just a week ago that they had followed Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem? Everything had seemed to be falling into place. It seemed like God’s kingdom was coming right then and there, and they were part of it. And then he was arrested, and he didn’t fight, and he didn’t let them fight. He was taken before Pilate, who had jurisdiction over Jerusalem, who sent him to Herod because he had jurisdiction over Galilee and Jesus was Galilean, and he didn’t prove himself to either. He didn’t even defend himself.

This was the conversation the disciples were having as they walked along the road to Emmaus. Why? Why had Jesus not spoken? Not overthrown? Not ascended the throne? All day Friday, he hung on that cross, and they had tried to intermingle with the crowd at a distance. It was so hard to watch, but they still had hope that he would perform a miracle and release himself, triumphant. They had hoped all day for some sign that they should do something, but none came. By sundown, all was dark and it seemed like the world stood still as they waited out the Sabbath in hiding. It had seemed like the longest day ever. Nothing to distract. Nothing to be done. All of them together, but without Jesus, without the reason they were together.

I just imagine that they couldn’t get out of this conversation cycle. You’ve had those conversations that are like a scratched record. You go through the cycle over and over and over again. There were no good answers. There was no way to redirect their focus to something else. Not even the women finding the tomb empty that morning and claiming to have seen a vision of angels who claimed he was alive could overwhelm their despair. All hope was gone. No reason to stay, and every reason to leave.

The two had set out Sunday afternoon for Emmaus. It was about a 7 mile walk from Jerusalem. We know this because Luke tells us it is 60 stadia away…a stadia was a racecourse, that was roughly the length of a football field. So, they are headed about 60 football fields away from Jerusalem. But we don’t know in what direction. Archaeologists have yet to uncover a village that they believe to be Emmaus. It wasn’t located on any maps that we have. The logical explanation is probably that Emmaus was a tiny village, a “blink and you’ll miss it” kind of place.

While we have not had a physical experience of Jesus post-resurrection, and these two on the road to Emmaus and the other disciples certainly did, or we would not be gathered here today because it was their experience that transformed them from a scared band of followers breaking up and heading home into apostles willing to die to tell what they had seen and knew. Even though we have not had that same experience, us not having a geographical location for Emmaus is a powerful metaphor for us on our faith journeys. They were leaving Jerusalem, the place of the Temple, of the Holy of Holies, the home of the Ark of the Covenant, they were leaving God. The metaphor is so powerful because the road to Emmaus is a road we have all been on. It is the road the road of despair. It is the road of diagnosis and treatment. When the doctor has given you the news, and it is not good. It is the road of losing everything. It is the road of refugees, the road of shattered dreams, the road of tragedy. It is the road away, the road away from devastation…and on that road we try to figure out what just happened and why. It is a road we take because we can’t stay where we are, but we can’t look up to see where we are going, either.

So what happens on that road?

Along the road they did not travel alone. When we experience devastation, we need a companion on the road. We need someone who will let us talk it out, who will enter into conversation with us, who will listen to us and even walk with us in our shock and pain.

And along the road they met someone who shifted their conversation, who bumped the needle on that scratched record, and refocused them on the grand sweep of God’s faithfulness. They had just celebrated Passover, the night that over dinner they recalled all of God’s mighty acts and deliverance. From Moses to Elijah and all the prophets, in fact Jesus had said that he was part of that story. When we get stuck in a devastation cyclone, cycling over and over again through what has happened and how we cannot believe it, we need to be refocused on the grand sweep of God’s faithfulness.

These two disciples knew the Scriptures. They knew the stories of Moses and the prophets. They could have told these stories. It was different, though, on the road to Emmaus. As they heard the stories in the midst of their despair, these stories warmed their hearts. They went from being stories they knew about God and other people, to words that spoke to them of their relationship with God, words that assured them that God had loved and provided for and led God’s people out of bondage, out of slavery to new life, that Jesus was the promised Messiah and God’s steadfast love was unwavering. As they walked along the road listening to Jesus, what they knew in their minds transformed, transferred, became something they KNEW in their hearts.

This is the work of Easter. We are in the season of Eastertide. I have always bristled at the Sunday after Easter being known as “Associate Sunday” – partly because I think it is disrespectful to associates to name them as less than, and because I am not sure there is any more important season in the church year than Eastertide. We spend all of Lent getting ready for Easter, giving things up and taking things on to remember Christ’s sacrifice for us. We have Holy Week services to walk together through the events of those last days. Then we have Easter, and then we tend to turn our attention to spring cleaning and gardening and proms and graduations and the end of the school year. Then just as we turn to summer, we celebrate Pentecost and celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit and the birthday of the church. But we do not tend to put must focus on the 50 days of Eastertide.

This is the time to recognize Jesus, alive, with us along the way. Our moments will be fleeting. This stranger took bread and as he blessed and broke it, they recognized him, and he was gone. They couldn’t prove it. There was no scientific evidence. It was beyond what they could explain. But they KNEW it was him, and instead of making their beds and sleeping in Emmaus, instead of staying in despair, they ran at that very hour back to Jerusalem. When we get a glimpse of grace, when we remember the grand sweep of God’s faithfulness not just as a series of stories passed down to us but as messages of God’s desires and love for us, when we gather together and break bread and remember that Jesus is our host, we go from settling in to despair to running back to God.

This Eastertide, we will be studying the book of James. We will begin on May 8th. I invite you to read through the book, it’s just 5 chapters long. If you want some commentary suggestions, send me an email or text me or stop me and I’ll send you some links to begin to understand this Word of God not just with your mind, but really KNOW what God is saying to us in your heart. This week, pay attention, look for moments that give you hope, that you feel alive, and give thanks to God for walking along the way with you. I will start you off with two examples from my day yesterday, and I encourage you to think about your day yesterday as well. When did you see the Lord? Yesterday at Mary Hudson’s funeral I read from Isaiah 40, “Those who hope in the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles,” and then as we drove through the country to the cemetery we crossed over a stream and there in the distance a bird was soaring over the water. Last night as I ran into Commissary to order take out, I heard someone call my name – it was a family I have known almost 30 years, I had seen their grandson when he was first born, but he was in a carrier and with COVID I didn’t get to touch or interact with him. He is now 10 months old and reached for me from his grandmother’s arms. And I held him and he laughed and we all laughed, as his mom and dad and grandmother and granddad were surprised that he would go to a stranger, much-less reach for one. Hope. New Life. Grace. Jesus in our midst, there and just as you recognize him, gone. And that Emmaus road journey of despair changes course as we run back to God. Where did you see Jesus along the way yesterday? Where will you recognize him today?