Sermon 4/6/08
After Easter: Understanding - Luke 24:13-35
(view lectionary notes for this text)
My mother likes to share the story of a time when I was very young, young enough that I hardly remember this happening myself, when she found on my night stand a letter to God that I had written in red crayon. It went like this, “Dear God, I have lots of questions. I know you have the answers. Can you please write them here?” Then I had left a big blank space, and left the red crayon for God to answer with. My mother sat down and talked with me about the different ways God talks to us, and that God might tell me things in my heart instead of on paper. But today, she always says she regrets telling me this – I had faith God would answer in crayon. Maybe if she had faith too, she wonders, maybe God would have written all the answers for me. As I said, I hardly remember this happening, so I don’t really know what questions I was looking to have God answer for me. But it’s not surprising. I’ve told you before that I like having all the answers – I’ve always liked knowing – knowing things, knowing the answers, knowing how it works.
In seminary, it’s not uncommon for students to have a crisis of faith when confronted with scholarly information about the scriptures that conflicts with what they’ve been taught their whole lives. But for me, my seminary faith crisis wasn’t in learning things about God and my faith I couldn’t accept – it was coming to understand that I couldn’t have all the answers about God that I wanted to. I couldn’t just figure out everything out about God, and that was hard for me to deal with. That was my faith crisis. Ultimately, I had to accept that part of who and what God is is Mystery, and that had to be ok with me in order to move forward in my spiritual journey. But it’s something I’m still working on.
Our text today from Luke, then, is tantalizing to me. This passage is usually called “The Walk to Emmaus.” Our scene opens while it is still Easter Sunday, only this account comes from and appears only in Luke. Chronologically, it seems to take place after Jesus speaks with Mary at the tomb, and leads into Jesus coming to the disciples in the room where they’ve locked themselves in fear after the crucifixion. Two disciples, not of the twelve, but two others, Cleopas, and an unnamed follower of Jesus, are walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus, apparently where they are staying. Naturally, they are talking about the events of the crucifixion and death of Jesus, and about this quickly spreading news that the women have been reporting – that Jesus is alive. As they discuss and chat, Jesus joins them in their walk. For some reason, they don’t recognize him. He asks what they are talking about, and they recount everything to him. “How foolisih you are!” Jesus exclaims. Don’t you understand this is just what the prophets said would happen, had to happen? Then, Luke says, Jesus interprets the scriptures for them, about the Messiah, starting from Moses and the prophets. Of course though, Luke does not bother to include this interpretation for our benefit.
Still though, Cleopas and friend do not recognize Jesus. But they invite him to stay the night with them, and Jesus accepts. At dinner, Jesus takes the bread, and blesses and breaks it. And suddenly, the veil is lifted, and they recognize Jesus. Jesus departs, and Cleopas and his friend say to one another, “Weren’t our hearts burning within us when he was opening the scriptures to us?” They realize they had caught a glimpse of something and yet still failed to recognize Jesus. So they returned to Jerusalem, and the disciples, where resurrection seems to be finally sinking in. And they share their story, of how Jesus was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
What I find so fascinating about this story is that Luke tells us that Jesus explains all the scriptures to Cleopas and friend, beginning with the prophets, but Luke doesn’t bother to record any part of that conversation for us! How frustrating! All of that information and knowledge and understanding we could have had! All of those facts pinned down, interpretations of scripture corrected for us by Jesus himself. But Luke finds this apparently not important enough to mention. Luke does emphasize knowledge though in this passage. What he points out is that theses disciples at first don’t seem to know Jesus, but that then their eyes are opened and they know, because Jesus comes and breaks bread with them. I might prefer that Luke gives us every word that Jesus says in explanation here. But Luke just wants to make sure we recognize Jesus when he’s standing right in front of us. That’s the understanding he wants us to have.
What would keep us from recognizing God when God is right in front of us? Luke tries to point us in the right direction. Too often, people of faith define ‘good discipleship’ by right belief. The fancy word for that is orthodoxy. Right belief. In a few weeks, as some of you know, I’ll be attending the General Conference of the UMC in Texas. It’s a gathering that happens every four years where delegates from around the world come to decide what will be in our Book of Disciples, our rule book. I’m looking forward to attending, but I’m also anxious. This gathering of so many United Methodists often results in tension and outright fighting with each other over what we say we believe and who is right about what we believe. What’s the meaning of membership? What should we spend our money on? What do we mean by the word ‘evangelism’? Where do we stand on the controversial topics of abortion, or rights for gay and lesbians, or the death penalty, or stem cell research? Should be involved in politics, or not, and if we are, what side should we take? We come seeking knowledge and understanding, but we’re looking for very specific answers. Jesus may explain the scriptures to Cleopas and his friend in this passage, but Luke isn’t really interested.
Instead, what Luke points out is the real way the men come to recognize and know Jesus: through action, through relationship, through a shared experience. Not a right belief, but a right practice. That’s called orthopraxis. Discipleship defined not by believing certain right things, but by living with one another in a certain way. As I head to General Conference this time, I’ll be seeking out how our church can live together, despite such a wide range of beliefs, and how we can serve others. If we fail at loving one another, and fail at our relationships, it doesn’t much matter to me what we decide we believe.
What keeps us from recognizing God, when God is right in front of us? Luke says that Christ is made known to us in the breaking of the bread. Not through a doctrine, but through an experience, a shared meal, a common loaf, an action of giving and receiving, a time of relationship around the table.
This Lent, we had weekly communion supper services where we talked about what communion means, what we believe about communion, how and why we celebrate it the way we do. This time, these services, these meals together have been some of my favorite times here with you so far. Why? It isn’t because we figured out the perfect explanations of communion. It isn’t because we now know everything there is to know about what people believe is happening when we take communion. Instead, for me, it’s because we were communion – we were a little community, breaking bread together, strengthening our relationships with one another, sharing an experience of God, of the Holy, together. God, made known to us, in the breaking of the bread.
We are such inquisitive, independent, and self-reliant people. We live in a culture that is so private and values individualism so much. I do cherish independence. I do cherish being self-sufficient. But no matter how much we try, we can’t know and understand God by ourselves. We can’t just study enough about God to recognize God’s presence. We can’t just read the scriptures enough and get it, know it. No matter how much we wish it were otherwise, our faith, our discipleship, is not just between us and God. In Jesus, God has made our faith overwhelmingly relational – faith between us and God and one another. We can know God only through relationships, only through one another, never on our own. Do you want to know God? Understand God? The place to start is by strengthening your relationship – with others in this community of faith, and with those outside these walls. We know God when we show love to one another. We start to see God’s face when we start serving God’s creations.
Today, after worship, I’ll be teaching a class for children about communion. I’ve had a hard time coming up with my lesson plan. I can tell the children a lot about communion – things that are important, special, and interesting. But the best way we learn about communion is not by explanation, but by experience, by doing, by breaking bread together, remembering Jesus together, coming to the open table together. That’s why we put no limits on who can take communion, or how old you have to be, or what tradition you are from. Because we believe you can know God by doing, by breaking the bread with us.
In a way, our United Methodist theology of Holy Communion might be better summed up in this verse from Luke. “He was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.” God is made known to us in the breaking of bread. That’s why we come to the table – not alone, not an individual act of worship, not something we do by ourselves. But always together. A collection of members of the body of Christ. Together, so that at the table, God can be made known to us. That’s the true understanding that God offers, and that I’m trying to learn to seek after. Come to the table, together. Come, understand, and know God in the breaking of this bread. Amen.