Luke 24. 13-35 – 04262020
On this third Sunday of Easter, we find ourselves traveling a road … that is “insanely FAMILIAR.”
ALMOST every one of us, regardless of our “circumstance,” knows THIS ROAD.
We have WALKED it. If we have NOT, we ONE DAY WILL.
OTHERS have as well. MANY others. Lots of others.
We have actually LOST-OUR-WAY on it.
We’ve walked AIMLESSLY. We have TRUDGED along the pathway…blindly…
Not looking WHERE WE ARE. Or WHERE we are going. Just walking.
Not NOTICING ANYTHING along the way.
WE walk.
And it is ENOUGH, for now.
We head to what is “KNOWN and COMFORTABLE and SECURE.”
We’ve left it BEHIND and NOW we return to it, again. Not because we wanted to.
“The road is the Road to Emmaus,” we know it because we have BEEN THERE before…or know others WHO HAVE.
“But we had HOPED.”
But we had hoped THE TUMOR wasn’t MALIGNANT.
We had HOPED against all hope.
We had hoped OUR MARRIAGE would get easier.
We had hoped we would STAY TOGETHER.
We had hoped HE/SHE would QUIT USING.
We had hoped OUR SON would come home.
We had hoped our beloved household pet was going to make it.
We had hoped that OUR DAUGHTER would TALK to us, again.
We hoped we could see our GRANDCHILDREN.
We had hoped this DEPRESSION would end.
We had hoped to KEEP OUR JOBS.
We had hoped to carry OUR BABY to term.
We had hoped for LESS PAIN TODAY.
We had hoped that a NEW DAY might HELP!
We had hoped the PANDEMIC would spare our FAMILY, our FRIENDS, our NEIGHBORS, EVERYONE we know.
We had hoped for PEACE ON EARTH.
We had HOPED to experience GOD’s PRESENCE.
We had hoped for A SIGN.
We had hoped OUR FAITH would survive.
The words we speak on “THE ROAD TO EMMAUS” are words of PAIN, SORROW, DISMAY, LONGING, and of CONFUSION.
And behind it all STILL LIES that “small-little-voice of HOPE.”
These are the words that we say when we THINK or FEEL that we have come to the end of our hopes — when our expectations have been SMASHED, our LONG-HELD DREAMS are dead, and there’s nothing left to do but to WALK AWAY, to leave, defeated and forlorn.
But we had HOPED.
And with any luck, WE STILL DO.
We had wanted to KEEP hope ALIVE.
But sometimes IT IS HARD.
Sometimes it is FULL-TIME-WORK.
Sometimes it seems an IMPOSSIBILITY.
So, in our Gospel text for this morning, Cleopas and his “unnamed friend” say these “same words to a stranger” who APPEARS alongside them as they WALK to Emmaus on EASTER EVENING:
“But we had hoped, we HAD HOPED that he was THE ONE to REDEEM Israel.”
Once Jesus and his companions are seated around the table, Jesus TAKES BREAD. He takes, BLESSES, BREAKS, and GIVES it.
During these “difficult times of quarantine and isolation,” hope is STILL SURVIVING. Hope is still a presence. Hope is still available. God is still with us…we are not alone.
God shows up during a quiet stroll in the park or around your neighborhood or taking the dog for a NECESSARY walk.
God is present in our children and in our loved ones.
God reveals God’s self when we take, bless, REMEMBER, and give, to OTHERS.
God is present in the text or phone call you placed to a lonely neighbor that you can’t visit during the quarantine.
God is present through the greeting card, the smile through a window. GOD MAKES HIS PRESENCE KNOWN.
If the Emmaus story tells us anything, it tells us that the risen Jesus is NOT CONFINED-EVER. He still walks with us down our Emmaus Roads and ALL ROADS…
Wherever and whenever we make room, Jesus comes.
“But we had hoped.” So very many things are different right now than we had hoped they’d be. They usually are. And yet.
The stranger who happens to be walking alongside is the Savior, the Redeemer, the LIVING ONE, and HE still meets us on the lonely road to Emmaus.
The GUEST who becomes our HOST still nourishes us with Presence, Word, Bread, and wine.
SO, keep WALKING. Keep BELIEVING. Hang on to HOPE. Keep HOPE ALIVE!
Even the smallest of hope like faith “a little is a lot if it is all that you have.” HANG ON TO IT!
So look for him. Listen for him. Invite him. Call upon him.
And when he lingers at your door, say what he longs to hear, STAY WITH ME LORD. Stay with me.
Amen.