Luke 24:13-35
13 Now on that same day two of
them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem,
14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15
While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with
them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them,
"What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" They
stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered
him, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things
that have taken place there in these days?" 19 He asked them, "What
things?" They replied, "The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a
prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our
chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and
crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes,
and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. 22
Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early
this morning, 23 and when they did not find his body there, they came back and
told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was
alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as
the women had said; but they did not see him." 25 Then he said to them,
"Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the
prophets have declared! 26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer
these things and then enter into his glory?" 27 Then beginning with Moses
and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all
the scriptures. 28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he
walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 But they urged him strongly, saying,
"Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly
over." So he went in to stay with them. 30 When he was at the table with
them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their
eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32
They said to each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he
was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?"
33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the
eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying, "The
Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" 35 Then they told
what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the
breaking of the bread.
Growing up, I always saw my teachers
as my own personal sort of celebrities. There was always something a little
cool about running into a teacher on a Saturday at the gas station, or seeing
them during the summer at the grocery store. What’s more, I thought it was
really something if one of my friends actually knew a teacher outside of
school, that they actually knew a teacher’s first name and regularly interacted
with a teacher outside of class. Whether they went to church together or a
teacher and one of my friend’s parents went to college together—really whatever
it was—I always thought it was sort of special when one of my friends knew one
of our teachers outside of the school. I really only had that sort of
experience twice in my educational career: once in the eighth grade when my
Algebra I teacher, Mrs. Jones, had actually graduated from high school with my
dad and she played the piano at the
church I would eventually call my home church; the other time was when I went
to the high school in Enterprise and took auto mechanics there.
Bill Waddell taught auto mechanics
at the high school, and Bill Waddell was one of my dad’s best friends. I had
known Bill practically all my life, and since I had aspirations of being a
mechanic after high school, it seemed like the logical thing to do to take
classes with Bill—I mean, Mr. Waddell. The auto mechanics department at the old
high school in Enterprise (the one that was there before it was destroyed by a
tornado in 2007) was a well-worn, musty concrete and cinderblock shop, with
five bays, two hydraulic lifts, one front-end alignment pit, a tool cage, an
office, a storage room, and a tiny sliver of a classroom. Honestly, the
classroom was probably the smallest space in the whole building: I could’ve
stood in the middle of the room and stretched my arms out to touch two walls.
It was a cramped room with old school desks (you know the ones with plywood
tops, a metal frame, with a space for your books under the seat). Those desks
lined the walls, and just above all of our heads was a single bookshelf with
old Chilton manuals and auto mechanics textbooks on them. More than once a
student had banged the top of their head on that shelf trying to get out of one
of those desks.
It used to frustrate me how small
that classroom was, mostly because I was under the impression we’d be taught
how to work on cars in that classroom. I was always disappointed when we’d be
given an assignment out of the textbook just to be graded so easily on it. At
first, every kid in that class had an “A,” but then we left the classroom and
went into the shop. You see, things are a bit different in the shop. You can
know all the facts about what makes an engine fire. You can know all the parts
of a drum brake by name and be able to label them correctly on a picture. You
can understand the way an engine’s cooling system works. Yes, you can read
books, study pictures and diagrams, and you can ace tests in a classroom, but
when it comes to actually fixing something, when it comes to actually taking
dead hunks of old metal and making them roar to life or operate safely and
correctly…well that something else entirely. That’s why the shop was so much
bigger than the room we called a classroom: because when it comes to actually
knowing something, when it comes to actually comprehending what’s before you,
you are going to have to experience something first. In other words, when it
comes down to it, the only real way to know something is to experience it over
and over, or to put it another way, we have to be in relationship with it.
If that is the case, then why do we
seem to think that when it comes to the most important thing in our lives (the
most important thing in the history of humankind) all we really need is some
cognitive recognition of facts, figures, dates, and data? Why are we under the
impression that a life of faith is merely made up of list of “dos” and “don’ts”
or a creedal list of regulations, rituals, and rites? In order to get where I’m
going with all of this, we need to start in a different place, a place about
seven miles outside of the village called Emmaus; we need to start in
first-century Jerusalem, a short time after the crucifixion and burial of Jesus
of Nazareth.
In this
post-resurrection/post-Easter account, Luke tells us the story of two of Jesus’
disciples—Cleopas and some other guy—as they’re heading to the village of
Emmaus. They’re discussing what’s recently taken place there in Jerusalem, and
as you probably well know a lot had been going on: Jesus and his movement
seemed to be zeroing in on Pilate and those in charge of Jerusalem; it looked
as if the coming revolution some of the Jews had been hoping for was about to
break out; but just when it seemed like something great was going to happen,
Jesus was betrayed, arrested, found guilty in a rigged trial, sentenced to
death, and nailed to a cross where he subsequently died. His body was placed in
a tomb. His followers scattered, but on the third day after his death, some of
the women who followed Jesus said they saw an angel or two telling them that he
was alive, but no one was really sure if they could trust these women and their
testimony, so some others went back to check it out. There they found a vacant
tomb but no sign of a resurrected Jesus. There was plenty to talk about on a
seven-mile walk!
On this walk, we’re told, Jesus
joins these two disciples, “but,” we’re told in verse 16 16 “their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” They didn’t
know it was Jesus who had joined them on their walk, and they were some of his
disciples, folks who had traveled with and learned from Jesus before his crucifixion!
They had some knowledge, firsthand or secondhand, about Jesus and all that he
had been through, yet they still couldn’t see it was Jesus himself who joined
them on the road. Furthermore, Jesus asks them in verse 17,"What are you
discussing with each other while you walk along?" To which “They
stood still, looking sad,” and proceeded to give Jesus a summary of all
that took place in verses 18-24. Not
only are these two likely a part of the multitude of disciples that followed
Jesus during his earthly ministry, but they seem to have a pretty good grasp on
all the facts that led up to that moment, all the facts about Jesus and the
hopes of the people concerning Jesus.
Well, as we see in verses 25-27, Jesus sees the
shortcomings in their “facts” and “beginning with Moses and all the prophets,
he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.”
In other words, Jesus began to teach and interpret the traditions of Scripture
to these two men as they walked to Emmaus. Jesus explained the details of those
things found in the Law and the teachings of the prophets, like Isaiah, that
pointed to a messiah that would undergo suffering, a Christ that would be
misunderstood and eventually put to death. Now, it may be tempting for some of
us to see this as the powerful moment in this story, to see this as a clear
example of the power of Scripture and the way it can open the eyes and hearts
of men and women. But before we get too carried away we need to observe
something in this story. After Jesus teaches these two men about himself in all
the scriptures, there is no immediate change, no immediate recognition of the
One who has joined them on the way to Emmaus. Yes, later on we will hear them
say, "Were
not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while
he was opening the scriptures to us?" But right here, at this
moment when Jesus is opening the scriptures to them, there is only a burning in
their hearts, not a complete recognition of their teacher.
This may be an appropriate place to
point out that the simple reading or teaching of Scripture is not always enough
for people to recognize Jesus. This is especially true in an increasingly
pluralistic culture where books like the Bible are not seen to possess as much
authority as they once did. A street preacher blaring a string of proof texts
through a megaphone and a billboard on the highway plastered with a Bible verse
are not going to reach many (if any) with the Good News. A tract left in a
bathroom stall with plucked passages of Scripture scrolled inside explaining
the eternal fate of every soul and the decision one has to make will lead very
few to an understanding of an eternal God. Think about it this way: would a
string of passages from the Quran convince you to become of Muslim, or a few
carefully chosen verses from the Bhagavad Gita lead to your conversion to
Hinduism? I would think not! While Holy Scripture is powerful and
life-changing, we need to remember that Jesus didn’t leave behind a Bible when
he ascended into heaven—he left behind a Church! And Jesus left that Church
with a commission and a commandment to love God and everyone else.
You see, while these two on the road
to Emmaus didn’t immediately recognize Jesus when he joined them on their
journey, they would come to recognize him. And while their hearts burned but
they eyes were closed, they would come to see that the One who set their hearts
on fire with the words of Scripture was indeed the One who had so recently died
and been raised for them. How did they come to recognize Jesus? What was it
that finally opened their eyes? Well it wasn’t the knowledge of facts, names,
or dates, and it wasn’t the recitation of Bible verses. It was the simple act
of hospitality, the act of sharing a meal with a stranger.
We’re told in verses 28-31: “As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked
ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, ‘Stay with
us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ So he went in
to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed
and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they
recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.” In the simple
request for a fellow traveler to “stay with us,” these two had their eyes
opened. In the humble act of sharing a meal with a stranger, these two saw the
One about whom they had spent a great deal of time talking. By actually
practicing the kind of thing Jesus had taught about all along they were able to
recognize him in their presence. Now there’s a lesson in that my friends!
You see, we can
get awful caught up in having all the facts, in knowing all the answers. We can
get preoccupied with knowing the right verse for the right occasion. We can
lose ourselves in trying to talk ourselves and others into believing. But the
truth is we can’t fully see Jesus until we actually do the things Jesus taught
us to do, until we live our lives by acts of love, kindness, and hospitality. So
as you journey forth from this place, heading to your own Emmaus, step out of
the classroom and into the shop. Focus your faith and attention, not on
learning or memorizing the teachings of Jesus, but on DOING the things Jesus taught us to do. Then, my friends, you will
recognize Jesus in your very presence, and you will realize he was there all
along.
Amen.
