“Walking for Faith”
A sermon by Sid Burgess for Edgewood PC, Birmingham, AL
Third Sunday of Easter, April 6, 2008
Text: Luke 24:13-35
In the neighborhood of the Edgewood church people do a lot of walking. Children walk to school. The elderly walk their dogs. Mothers and dads walk, pushing babies in their strollers. Some people walk alone, listening to their ipods. But more often than not they walk together. Couples, friends, neighbors--in groups of two or three, even more. It helps to have someone with whom to walk. Walking is good for your health, of course, and good for strengthening relationships, enriching friendship.
In the story Luke tells today, walking is also good for your faith. The story opens with two of Jesus' disciples walking--walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus, two days after the crucifixion. One of the two is anonymous, but the other is named Cleopas, not to be confused with Cepas, a/k/a, Peter. Someone has described them as “two nobodies on the road to nowhere.” We know better. Among Christ’s followers, everyone is a somebody, and all of us have an eternal destination. So, let’s join these two out on the Emmaus Road. After all, walking is so very good for us, and they have already covered a good bit of ground, so we haven’t far to go. We can do this. Even here, even now, we can join Cleopas and his buddy on the road to Emmaus.
As we join the walk we pick up on the conversation. They are talking about what has happened in Jerusalem these last few days--the arrest, torture, and execution of Jesus, the one whom they had hope would redeem all of Israel. As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that these fellows are quite disillusioned.
We know how they must feel. After all, we have had our own high expectations of Jesus. We’ve been waiting for him all these years--more than two millennia now. We can understand, how these two disciples are perplexed and confused. We can understand the disbelief that has overpowered them. We can see how the tragic death of Jesus has been devastating to them, because we know how painful his absence, for so very long, has been for us. So, we can easily join the conversation. We can relate to the raw grief Cleopus and his buddy are experiencing; they can relate to our long-felt emptiness.
As we walk and we talk along the Emmaus Road we suddenly realize yet another person has joined our group. This particular, mysterious stranger seems to have overheard at least a portion of our conversation, and he wants to know more. He asks, “What are you discussing while you walk along?” In the Revised Southern Standard version of the Bible, that’s “What’j’all been talkin’ bout?”
Cleopas responds for us: “Where ya been, stranger? Are you totally clueless, the only person in all of Jerusalem who doesn’t know?” The stranger takes no offense. Instead, he asks for details. And Cleopus proceeds to fill him in. He begins to describe the key events in Jesus' life, not realizing that he is telling the stranger about Himself. Cleopas includes the part about the women who discovered the empty tomb and then saw a vision of angels who told them Jesus was alive.
Now, Jesus takes the initiative and, in effect, begins to tell His own story. "Did not the Messiah have to undergo all this so as to enter into His glory?" He reviews the Old Testament scriptures, like the sad songs of the suffering servant in Isaiah, “He was despised and rejected--a man of sorrows, acquainted with bitterest grief”(Isa. 53.3); as well as, the prophetic poems in the Book of Psalms: “16 They have pierced my hands and feet. 18 They divide my clothes among themselves and throw dice for my garments” (Ps.22).
It's all there in scripture, but our minds and hearts have been blinded. Preoccupied with our own hurts and losses, we have not asked, we have not wanted to know.
At this point in the journey, we are getting close to Emmaus. When the Stranger acts as if he is going farther, we urge him to stop and stay for supper. We open our hearts to Him in love. And when we come to the table, Jesus responds in love. Our Guest becomes our Host!
Here, at the Lord’s table, we recognize that the Stranger is, in fact, our dear friend, our brother, our Lord. Here, as the Word is read and proclaimed . . . . Here, as bread is broken and wine is poured . . . . Here, as we come to the Table, two-by-two, to share the simple elements, our eyes are opened, and we recognize him. We recognize him present in the church officers who stand at the table, mere mortals to a person, but home each and every one to the Risen Christ. We recognize him in friend and familiar face, ahead of us, behind us, beside us . . . . We recognize him in the stranger across the aisle, in the church down the street, across town and around the world--Jesus Christ, the Risen Christ, present each time and in every place the Lord’s Supper, Communion, the Eucharist is celebrated.
No doubt, there are skeptics--we, ourselves may be among them from time to time. After all, this is not the way we ourselves might have written the script. We would not have the first appearance of the Risen Christ way out in the isolated countryside to a couple of unknown disciples, but in downtown Jerusalem. We’d have him demonstrating God’s power over death first to cruel Pilate himself, then, in the Great Temple, bringing those collaborating religious leaders to their knees. We like to see our super heroes make grand entrances; our star athletes, playing before packed houses; our presidential candidates, coming with a huge entourage.
As for us, surely to meet the Risen Christ, we should have to climb the highest mountain, cross the widest ocean, join the largest throng. How can it be that the Savior of the World would appear here, in this small, quiet place? How can it be that walking these few feet, among these few people, can put us in the company of the Holy One of God?
To answer that question we look in the direction to which Jesus points-- we look to Holy Scripture. And once again we hear his voice: “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” Matt 18.2. Plus,
19Go therefore and make disciples . . ., baptizing them . . ., 20and teaching them . . . . And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28)
“I am there.” I am with you.” Note the powerful present tense.
But what about the bread and the wine? For centuries, the debate was all about the elements, and the qualifications of the person presiding at the table. But our man John Calvin wants us to see that it is the whole, sacred rite--from beginning to end--from community gathered, to word read and proclaimed, to prayers offered, to elements brought and blessed, to the faithful of this time and place--that is, to you--coming to the table, breaking bread together, sharing wine, and thus proclaiming the saving death of the Lord. In the whole “Eucharistic action,” Christ is spiritually present by the power of the Holy Spirit.1
It's not a great distance this walk you take here in the sanctuary each Lord’s Day. Just a short walk--not for health, but for faith. From pew or chancel to the Lord’s table. Just a short walk, but you never walk alone. You come with friends. You may not know the name of the person walking next to you, but you know that he or she is a brother or sister in Christ. Or, you may know the person in front or behind you all too well but even he, even she, even you, even me--all of us together--are home to the Risen Christ.
“The Lord’s Supper discloses what human life by God’s grace is intended to be--a life together in mutual sharing and love.”2
To Jesus Christ, who loves us
and freed us from our sins by his blood
and made us to be a kingdom,
priests of his God and Father,
to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Rev. 1: 5,6
1 Migliore, Daniel L., FAITH SEEKS UNDERSTANDING, p. 222.
2 Ibid.