Easter III, Cycle A

April 14, 2002

The Rev. Dr. David M. Wendel

Saint Luke’s Lutheran Church, Colorado Springs, Colorado

Lessons:  Acts 2:14a, 36-41;  1 Peter 1:17-23;  St. Luke 24:13-35

     The painting is commonly known as, “The Road to Emmaus”.  It’s one of my favorite paintings, and every time I see it, I want to loose myself in the scene.  Or maybe, I find myself in the scene.  Maybe that’s it.  In this artist’s depiction of our Gospel lesson, of Jesus and two disciples on the road to Emmaus, maybe I find myself. 

     That’s not so far-fetched, you know.  In the painting, the artist does a wonderful job of emphasizing what St. Luke emphasizes about this encounter.  The two disciples are unrecognizable, really.  We know from the account, that the two are disciples, that one is named, Cleopas.  But, Cleopas is never listed as one of the disciples.  He’s not named in any of the resurrection accounts in Jerusalem.  He’s not mentioned as being in the Upper Room, or at the foot of the cross, or at the tomb.  In our gospel account, these are just two pretty non-descript, ordinary disciples of Jesus—and that’s the way they’re depicted in the painting.  Similarly, the road they’re on could be any road, anywhere.  So much in the passion and resurrection accounts of Jesus is specifically and intentionally described, in detail.  The Upper Room.  The Mount of Olives.  The Palace of Pilate.  The Temple.  Golgotha—the place of the Skull.  These were real, recognizable places that needed to be named, and were named, to locate the events of Jesus’ path of sorrows in a real place, in a real time. 

     But in our gospel lesson today, these unknown disciples are on the road to Emmaus—a village of no real note, that’s had no significance at any other time in Jesus’ life or ministry.  It’s surely not that these two disciples were unimportant—it’s that they were obviously not big players in the scheme of things.  And the fact that they lived in Emmaus underscores that fact;  that they were outsiders, in a sense.  Not part of the twelve.  Not part of the inner circle.  But maybe that’s what’s significant about them, and their experience.  Maybe that’s why St. Luke includes their experience in his gospel.  Because they are, two unrecognizable, ordinary disciples.  Because they are, on a road to a town that is NOT, Jerusalem, or Bethlehem, or Nazareth.  Because they could be, any one of us, here today!  Because as we hear this account, as when we see the painting, we can imagine ourselves, being those two disciples!  Think about it.  We’re also, not Peter, or James or John.  We’re not Mary Magdalene, or Mary or Martha.  We are disciples, but, we don’t live in Jerusalem, or Rome, or Wittenberg, for that matter.  But, we matter.  And it matters, that as we journey through life, on our roads to Emmaus, or Colorado Springs, or Pueblo, we sometimes become disheartened and despairing.  Sometimes, it’s because life, or illness, or stress gets us down, but sometimes, as with those two disciples, its because in spite of all that we’ve heard and seen, still, we feel that Jesus has abandoned us.  They thought Jesus was gone, because He’d been crucified, dead and buried.  They had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel—to bring new hope and courage to life.  But now, it’d been three days since His death.  And in spite of the confusing reports—they weren’t sure what to make of it all.  Dead is dead.  And Luke tells us, “they looked sad.”

     Isn’t that us?  As we’re trudging through life, in the darkness and despair, we too take on a sad countenance.  We get confused, and feel forsaken.  Hey, we’re not Peter or Paul!  We’re just Cleopas, and that other disciple, trying to make our way in life.  That’s what Luke wants us to realize, I think, as we witness this encounter on the road to Emmaus.  He wants us to see ourselves—to find ourselves, in this picture.  And—he wants us to see, that Jesus finds us, in this picture.  Jesus finds us, in the midst of our journey, just as He found those two.  And He walks with us, as He walked with them.  And as they go, Jesus shares with them two things, that revive them, and renew them, and send them off, rejoicing.  First, Jesus lays open the scriptures to them.  And then, He reveals Himself to them, in the breaking of the bread—in the very actions of the Lord’s Supper.  And again, is there any question, that in reporting this happening to us, St. Luke is showing us something, important, and powerful?  That in the midst of our questioning and doubting;  in the midst of our sad journeys in life—it is true, that Jesus comes to us, and walks with us, and comforts us and challenges us with the scriptures—and even more, He reveals Himself to us, when we come to the table, and He takes the bread, and blesses it, and breaks it, and gives it to us.  If you’ve been reading the Worship Letters in the monthly newsletters, I hope you see that we are careful, every Sunday when we come to the Lord’s Table, to use these very same actions that Jesus used at table with the disciples in Emmaus. The presiding minister takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to the disciples—because it is in these actions—in these very actions, that our eyes are opened, and we recognize Jesus, at table with us—Himself, presiding at His Holy Supper.  And Luke is saying to us, proclaiming to us, that this is what always happens—that this is what happens, even today, when disciples journey together.  Jesus comes to us, and Jesus walks with us, and Jesus opens the Word to us, and Jesus reveals Himself to us, in the Lord’s Supper.  And in those experiences of Jesus, risen, we are resurrected.  We are raised up.  We are renewed and re-energized for the work ahead.  St. Luke tells us that after Jesus had made Himself known in the breaking of the bread, that same hour—remember—it was getting late—but still, that same hour, they couldn’t wait; but they got up, and returned to Jerusalem, they were so excited by their experience of the Risen Jesus!

     And that, St. Luke says, is the way it is with Jesus and His disciples.  Yes, His disciples get down in the dumps.  Yes, His disciples struggle with sadness and frustration and confusion.  Yes, His disciples sometimes find themselves on the wrong road, altogether in life.  But Jesus comes to us.  Jesus walks with us.  Jesus feeds us with His very presence, in the Lord’s Supper.  And His presence, fires us up again.  His presence, gets us going, again.  His presence so fills us, that in our joy, we can’t help but go to tell others;  we can’t help but come to the table each and every Sunday;  we can’t help, but witness to His presence in our lives, whether through our words, or through our actions, or simply through the way we live our lives.  Filled with Jesus’ risen presence, we just may become like Peter in our reading from Acts, boldly standing up in the midst of the very folks who called for Jesus’ crucifixion—in the city where He was put to death—proclaiming, with power, that this Jesus, who was crucified, has been raised, so repent, and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ.  When Peter stood and proclaimed Jesus, three thousand souls were saved that day.  And though we are, more,  Cleopas and the other disciple—when Jesus comes and walks and talks with us—when Jesus speaks to us, through the scriptures—when Jesus reveals Himself in the bread and wine of His Holy Supper—who know?  Who knows what we undistinguished, ordinary disciples might do—as we journey through life—with Jesus?  Amen.