Luke 24:13-18, 28-31
Later that day, two of Jesus’ followers were walking to the village of Emmaus, about seven miles out of Jerusalem. They were deep in conversation, going over all these things that had happened, when in the middle of their conversation Jesus came up and walked along with them. But they were not able to recognize who he was.
He asked, “What’s this you’re discussing so intently as you walk along?”
They just stood there, long-faced, like they had lost their best friend. Then one of them, his name was Cleopas, said, “Are you the only one in Jerusalem who hasn’t heard what’s happened during the last few days?”
* * * * * * * * *
They came at last to the edge of the village where they’d been headed. The “stranger” acted as if he were going on but they pressed him saying, “Stay and have supper with us. It’s nearly evening; the day is done.” So he went in with them. And here is what happened: He sat down at the table with them. Taking the bread, he blessed and broke and gave it to them. At that moment, open-eyed, wide-eyed, they recognized him. And then he disappeared.
In our Easter Morning reading a few weeks ago, we read the old story of Mary Magdalene going to the tomb to prepare Jesus’ body for proper burial, and finding his body gone. After Peter and John had come and gone having found no answers, Mary stayed behind weeping with the despair of it all, when she saw one she took to be the groundskeeper and asked if he had moved the body. It wasn’t until he spoke her name that she recognized the one she was speaking to as Jesus, himself.
If you read the newsletter I sent out a couple of weeks ago, you may have read the quick synopsis of the story from a little later in John’s gospel that tells of the lost and confused disciples setting out one evening to fish and catching nothing. Returning from their fish-less night in the boat, they came upon a stranger who invited them to come ashore and share his breakfast. We know who the ”stranger” was, because we’ve read the whole story, multiple times. But somehow, those who knew Jesus best did not recognize him until they were almost on shore themselves.
And here in today’s story we meet two men who appear to have known Jesus well, and yet, once again, they do not recognize just who it is who walks along the road with them.
These are the people who knew Jesus, so how is it that those who knew him best – lived with him, traveled with him, ate with him, learned from him for three years – did not recognize him after his resurrection?
Perhaps it was because they weren’t seeing what they expected to see. Seeing only what we expect to see is a fairly common, though usually unconscious human failing.
The disciples, including Mary, had watched Jesus die. The last Jesus they had seen was not a living Jesus, but a dead one – finished. If they truly expected Jesus now at all, they might have been expecting Jesus as they had known him. But he was not the Jesus they had known because in the days between his death and their rediscovery of him, Easter had happened.
I was already working on this sermon when I came across a blog-posting written by an acquaintance, Rev. Dr. Jay Johnson, an Episcopal priest and theologian. His newest post was about dealing with grief, and it was set within the context of the Road to Emmaus story. And it included one sentence that may have changed the way I read this story forever. “Easter does not put things back the way they were.”
“Easter does not put things back the way they were.” I realized that in my own days of grieving in my life, I always want things put back the way they had been, but that’s never going to happen. Time does not move backwards – only forward.
When Jesus spoke about the time drawing near when he would no longer walk with them on a daily basis, they couldn’t hear it – couldn’t – or wouldn’t -- comprehend such a scenario – so they were totally unprepared when it actually happened.
His followers' only plan was to go on forever as things were – but that wasn’t God’s plan. Instead, Easter happened. And the thing we rarely have actually understood is that Easter wasn’t just about Jesus being alive again. It was always about our eyes and spirits being opened to finally see Jesus as he truly was, and is, as he was always meant to be. When they saw Jesus again it wasn’t the Jesus they expected and for a time they couldn’t recognize this Jesus who now existed for them.
How often do we not recognize the Jesus who is right in front of us? The one who doesn’t look like we expect him to look? Do we sometimes let our gaze skim right past the post-Easter Jesus right in front of us because we are too busy looking for the pre-Easter Jesus we are sure we know?
Easter didn’t put things back the way they had been – Easter never does – there’s always a new vision for Jesus to show us.
The message remains the same ... timeless ...You are loved by God. For three years that message was given to us by a fully human Jesus – one whose message we could only understand on our terms. But we are a post-Easter people. How do we recognize the Risen Christ? How do we hear God’s message with the awareness Easter brought to us?
Do we hear it? Do we see? Are we really any better at recognizing Jesus when he walks with us right here today than were his confused disciples?
How many times has Jesus walked with us -- talked with us -- in all the post-Easter days of our lives? How many times have we failed to recognize his presence?
Help us, Lord, to see you as you are and not as we have painted your picture in our minds. Amen.
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