Luke 24:13-35
April 26, 2020
Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
There’s nothing quite like a road trip. Spontaneous or planned. Short or long. There’s just a little thrill when we set out on an adventure. Maybe we’re flying solo or have our nearest and dearest with us. We might have our maps ready, stops planned. Or sometimes we set out and we’re not even sure where we’re headed. We just hit the open road and soar.
Cleopas and his unnamed friend are on a road trip from Jerusalem to Emmaus. We aren’t told if they’ve packed protein bars or potato chips for the journey. We know they were on foot. Together.
And then a stranger shows up and begins to walk with them. But this is….a strange stranger. We, dear reader, are told that it’s Jesus. Not just any Jesus, of course, but the Risen Christ because this story takes place on that first Easter.
But the travelers don’t know it’s Jesus. Still, they welcome the stranger and they begin to make small talk. All of Jerusalem has been watching Holy Week unfold on their screens. #HosannaJesus is trending.
But this stranger knows nothing of it.
And so, the disciples pass the time on their road trip not by listening to podcasts or singing with the windows down, but by telling the story.
The story of their friend Jesus. What he meant to them. How he pointed the way to Love. How he died a brutal death at the hands of the authorities.
This isn’t the only road trip in the Gospel of Luke.
Not even close. Biblical scholar Eric Barreto reminds us that the gospel begins with Mary and Joseph roadtripping to Bethlehem. The story of the Good Samaritan takes place on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. The entire second half of Luke’s gospel is structured around Jesus “setting his face toward Jerusalem” and steadily traveling towards the pain and confusion awaiting him there. [1]
I guess we shouldn’t be surprised there are so many road trips surrounding the stories about Jesus. Road trips are unique spaces. Spaces between what was and what isn’t yet. Spaces of anticipation as we look forward to what might be. Spaces of boredom or exhaustion as we wonder, “are we there yet?”
You know, we’re all on a road trip together right now. Not the kind we probably like to be on. After all, many of us are looking at cancelled travel plans and itching for the feel of the open road.
But we ARE on a unplanned journey together. We’ve left behind the familiarity of the “before time.” Our routines have all been upended. We were sent packing with barely any notice.
But we’re on the road to...where, exactly? That part is unclear. The disciples know where they’re headed. Emmaus is only a seven mile walk. They’ve made this journey before. They know where the watering holes are. They know where they’ll lay their heads at the end of the day.
Us? We are having a hard time envisioning our destination. What is the world going to look like “when this is all over”?
Of course, it won’t ever be over.
The pandemic of course, will end. But it’s just one part of an unfolding that’s eternal.
Creation continues. Humanity continues. God continues. We can trust that there IS something on the other side of all this chaos. That is at the very heart of our faith.
Spanish poet Antonio Machado is the person we have to thank for that delicious morsel of wisdom, “we make the road by walking.” It comes from his poem Campos de Castilla (translated into English):
Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road — Only wakes upon the sea.
The destination may be unclear. Our footsteps may make the path. But we are not alone at sea. The things that were true and real in “the before time” are still true and real.
This is what the disciples learned on their road trip.
When they reached Emmaus they invited the stranger to stay with them for the night. And when they sat down together to share a meal, the stranger stepped into the role of host. When they saw him take the bread, bless it, break it, share it around the table….that’s when their eyes were opened.
That’s when they knew it was Christ with them all along.
The road trip we’re on right now is not one we chose. We didn’t book our Airbnb, buy all our favorite snacks, and set out with a carefully curated playlist. We were thrust into this unwillingly. And it is completely normal and understandable to feel anger and grief about that. It’s normal to feel anxious because the destination isn’t in sight.
We feel all of that….and, yet, still, we travel.
And the open road does present opportunities to us….chances to pause and reflect.
We find ourselves looking at the “before times” and wondering: what of that is worth keeping? Which parts should be left in the past?
As we sit in this liminal space between what was and what is yet to be, we are reminded that we are co-creators with God.
Guided by Christ, we are empowered to make the road as we walk it together. We are called to be people of vision, people who listen for the whispers (and shouts) of the Holy Spirit as we discern what our new world will look like.
We, as people of faith, are invited to listen for God’s version of a better world….a world more deeply rooted in compassion and justice and peace for all people and all creation. And we are called to proclaim the good news of that vision to all we meet. To Love Loudly by saying, “Here is God’s dream. Here is the Beloved Community. Come, let’s build it together.”
The future is not yet here. And it is murky. But we can see clearly what God wants it to be:
A place where all people are valued. A place where the most vulnerable among us are cared for. It’s a place where the last are first. A place where those who would exclude finally come to understand we are all One.
It’s a place where children have enough to eat, no one has to live in fear of violence, and where systems are set up to heal and protect rather than harm.
God dreams of a world where humanity and creation live in harmony together. A place where we can talk to one another with respect and understand each other even when it’s very, very hard.
A world where every single person rises in the morning with the goal of loving God and loving their neighbor as themselves. A world where we go to bed at night knowing we’ve done our best to Love Loudly…..and where we can forgive ourselves when we fall short, counting on God’s love to sustain us when we need that grace.
This vision isn’t new….it's ancient. This vision of God’s Beloved Community is with us always….simmering below the surface, waiting for us to hush and take notice. It is there in every part of the unfolding of human history.
It is in the liminal spaces...when we are between before and not yet...that we are most likely to pause and notice that God is always holding that vision of the Beloved Community out to us.
And when we pause….when we take a moment and squint at the undefined destination the horizon...when we sit back and see the stranger across the table; take, bless, break, share.
That is when we know….really know. That Christ is with us.
That force of Love that cannot be contained. Christ is with us on this road just as Christ was with us before and Christ will be with us always.
Christ is in the unfolding, the before times, the between times, the unseen future.
Christ is in all of it.
Always.
Amen.
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