Year A Easter III Luke 24:13-35

Now on that same day two of Jesus' disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened

The Emmaus Road. We who live in the Boston area have had a great deal, and probably more than enough, interaction with roads. Most of us have some memory of the still infamous Big Dig of a few decades ago, and it seems roads are always in need of repair. Nonetheless, except during pothole season, we have fairly good roads. In this area, even local roads are paved and lined, have bike lanes and bus lanes. However, unlike ancient roads, they do not invite foot traffic, and are definitely nothing like the road in today’s Gospel.

The Emmaus Road in today’s Gospel story does still exist. It lies in the West Bank territory in Israel and is today a dirt path marked by the remnants of ancient Roman paving stones. In Jesus’ day it would have been a good road, the Romans built the best roads imaginable for their time, and foot traffic might have competed with carts and camels travelling to and from various destinations.

Todays’ Gospel story opens with the scene of two disciples walking home from Jerusalem along this very road. The travelers in today’s Gospel were not any of the chosen twelve, but they were nonetheless followers of Jesus, and thus considered His disciples. Conversation on the road was a common way for travelers, sometimes complete strangers to each other, to pass the time as they journeyed together.

The two people in today’s story are grieving. They are grieving for a friend who has recently died a very public and shameful death, and they are engrossed in their conversation. As they move slowly on their way, they are joined by a third traveler. This isn’t usual, as travelers often met and formed small groups walking along the road, and the disciples weren’t alarmed by this Stranger. What does surprise them, is what He has to say.

And He said to them, ‘What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?’ They stood still, looking sad. 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?

They are genuinely stunned, as we would be, if we were to find ourselves talking to someone who was unaware of the present situation in the Ukraine. The public execution of Jesus has no doubt been big news all through the city, at least within the Jewish community.

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, and how our chief priests and leaders handed Him over to be condemned to death and crucified Him. But we had hoped that He was the one.”

How could this stranger not have heard about the death of a man important enough for many to have considered Him to be “the one”?

But the stranger has heard about their friend, and in the tradition of the rabbis of that time, He undertakes to educate them. “Beginning with Moses and all the prophets, He interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.”

Why does Jesus’ do this? One reason is the He is responding to the obvious distress of His new companions. To comfort them, strengthen them, Jesus tells them a story. In fact, He tells them a great many stories. Before He is done, Jesus had reviewed for them the scriptural foundation on which their hope for a Messiah had been built.

None of the stories were new to them. They’d heard them since they were old enough to hear-and they heard them clearly this time. They heard them, but they didn't fully hear them. They heard them, but they did not recognize the power behind the words they were hearing. Because they did not hear fully, because they were so distracted by their own feelings, by their grief, the stranger who was talking with them remained a stranger. Indeed, He remained a stranger to them until they sat down for the evening meal.

So - neither of the disciples recognize Jesus. It seems incredible, and yet, not so incredible when we stop to think about our own world today. We too are always seeking “the one”. Advertisers capitalize on this. It’s the one brand for you, the one product you can trust, the one agency or long-distance company that you can rely on. Our search for “the one” is egged on by the conviction that if we ever find it, it will be the solution to all our problems. Somehow, it never seems to turn up, probably because we are distracted by the search itself, and because we really don’t know what we’re looking for.

The disciples thought they had found “the one”, in their case, “the One to redeem Israel,” but their hopes have been dashed by Jesus untimely death. Now, walking sadly from Jerusalem to Emmaus, distracted by grief, they too no longer know what they are looking for, in fact, they have stopped looking all together.

Their quiet road of despair isn’t all that different from the busy highways of Boston, where people dash madly to and fro, heading for something that is briefly very important, but which will, in the end, turn out to not be “the one.” Whether we are moving slowly by foot, or dashing madly around by car, very often we are totally distracted by our own inner thoughts and turmoil, and don’t know what we’re looking for. Some of us, though we continue to dash, have actually stopped looking.

Often, we speak of life as a journey, a road we travel from birth to death, but seeking what? If you ask most people, they will tell you they are seeking that clear vision which leads to success, and thus ensures security and fulfillment. They will say that life is a challenge, a series of problems to be overcome, that we must “take life by the horns” and wrestle with it until we gain complete control over it. These are good, solid answers, which are strongly encouraged by our society, but for those of us who call ourselves Christians, the answer is different. Like the two disciples on their way to Emmaus, we are called to be seeking “the One”.

And so, we are daily faced with a dilemma. We know we are called to seek the perfection of holiness in ever closer union with our Lord. But – we also want to have control over our lives and assurances of safety, security, and satisfaction. Well, here’s the surprise. If we truly want to fulfill our calling as Jesus’ followers, the control we long for is not an issue or an option. By virtue of our baptism, we have already surrendered control to Someone else. If we are actually living our faith, all the choices we long to have, the decisions we want to make, belong to God.

To put it simply, the harder we try to control life, the less we see what is going on around us. Like the disciples, we are moving forward, either slowly or at a tremendous pace, locked in our own bubble, be it of grief, or ambition. We have forgotten that God is not at our disposal, but we are at God’s disposal.

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.”

There’s nothing like sitting down to a good meal, and here, at the very first celebration of Holy Communion after the resurrection, the dark and tedious journey of the disciples, a journey which has been filled with grief and despair - has ended. Up until this moment they have been totally preoccupied with the inner workings of their own minds and hearts, struggling to get clarity to regain control of their destinies. Jesus has walked with them for miles, but only now, as the bread is broken, do they recognize Him.

No longer are there questions or doubts or fear. In the ancient world, night was a dangerous time to travel, but the disciples are so overcome with joy - indications are that they ran to Jerusalem. They ran because they had news that was too good to wait. Never mind the danger. The Lord is risen, and the rest of the community needed to hear about it.

Think about it – from tension, anxiety, grief, sorrow, in an instant, two people who thought they had lost everything abandon their evening sustenance, the safety of their lodging, (they travel by night), their deep desire to find an explanation, a reason, for “what has happened”, and off they go, filled with joy. When God happens – everything abruptly changes.

In 2000 years, life is pretty much the same. We still see dimly through a veil, we struggle with things seen and unseen, known and unknown, done and left undone. Personal pain and struggle can become the focus of our lives. Often, like the two on their way to Emmaus, we are distracted by cares and concerns, worries, anxieties, and that ever present need to feel like we have control of the situation. We forget what we are called to do and Who is really in charge. We forget that we walk daily in companionable silence with our risen Lord. We are so distracted, we don’t recognize that Jesus is there beside us, where He always is, at all times.

Control does no satisfy, but surrendering the struggle for it, opening our heats to the Lord, that solves everything. When God happens – everything changes. The resurrection story this morning is for all of us, all the followers of Jesus. It tells us that the Risen Lord is with us, beside us - that He will take care of everything. Alleluia, the Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Let us pray:

God, our heavenly Father, whose glory fills the whole creation, and whose Presence we find wherever we go: Preserve us, who travel through this life, keeping us ever mindful that we are surrounded by Your loving care; help us always to remember that our lives are in Your hands, and that if we but look, we will find You everywhere we go, and then, bring us in safety to our journey’s end; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.