Telling Our Resurrection Stories

The Rev. Amy Morehous

Easter III, Year C

Church of the Ascension

May 4, 2014

Acts 2:14a, 36-41

Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17

1 Peter 1:17-23

Luke 24:13-35

Two dusty travelers leave behind a tense, unstable situation on a quest for something. Along the way their lives are interrupted, they have unexpected adventures, and when they come to the end of their journey, they find they are changed forever by what has happened along the way.

Now from that description, I could be speaking of a new movie trailer, coming your way soon. I could be describing a classic book, or any number of classic movies about travelers on a journey. Was I describing the plot of the first Star Wars movie? It is Star Wars Sunday, after, celebrated unofficially by nerds everywhere. Why is it Star Wars Sunday? Well, May the fourth be with you. (As good Episcopalians, you're supposed to reply, "And also with you.")

We love a story about a journey. We always have. You can reach as far back to Odysseus' long journey back home, or as recently as the installments of The Hobbit, the recent films based on Tolkien's classic book. We are hungry for an epic journey through which we can live vicariously. We don't want to take a harrowing journey ourselves - we want to read about them, or watch them. We want to imagine them from the safety of our own couches. We hope maybe they tell us something about the longer arc of our own, lifelong journeys. About the decisions we make in it. About the difficulties along the way.

Today's Gospel is takes us on a journey.

As I began reading, thinking and praying over the Gospel today, over these two travelers on this particular journey, as I put myself on that road with these followers of Jesus, what I found myself wondering was "Why?"

Why are Cleopas and his companion taking the 7-mile trek to Emmaus that morning? They have spent the week with Jesus and his disciples. They recount their deep disappointment and grief in Jesus' death, and are very clear that Jesus was not the Messiah they had hoped for. They even know that the women have returned from the tomb to say that it was empty. It's almost ludicrous, the women's story, and they either don't attach a lot of importance to it, or they just don't believe it. But rather than stick around to see what comes of it all...they leave.  Why?

Were they afraid? With the disappearance of Jesus' body, there might  be questions from the authorities. Were they afraid they'd be accused of complicity? Did they fear for their own lives? Worried they too would be caught up in a continuing purge of Jesus' associates, and rounded up to face trials of their own?

Or were they simply dejected, and on the way home, trying to put the whole grief-filled episode behind them? Their loss of hope is obvious in their words. "We had hoped that he was the one to redeem us." We had hoped, but no more. Were they hoping to put as much distance as possible between themselves, and the events that have crushed their hopes?

Or are they simply on an errand? Sent to Emmaus to meet someone, or to bring something from the big city? If they are traveling with a particular purpose, then they never accomplish it. Whatever they think they're going to do, whatever they think they've set out to do - that doesn't happen. They are interrupted by God's larger purpose.

Any or all of these are possible. In the Gospel, it just doesn't say. We have no idea why Cleopas and his companion are on the road.

Many of us have great affection for the two travelers on the way to Emmaus because we, too, have the same hopes, the same fears. We hope Christ will see us, will come alongside us, will redeem us as he has promised. But we are not sure. We fear that he won't live up to his promises - that he won't be present in the hour when we feel most disappointed by life. When we are most grief-stricken, most afraid. Most alone. In our heart of hearts, we, too, have trouble understanding this resurrection moment. We are afraid we will not be seen, that we do not matter, that there is no one present there for us, after all.

Frederick Buechner wrote, "I believe that the reason why the resurrection is more than just an extraordinary event that took place some two thousand years ago and then was over and done with is that, even as I speak these words and you listen to them, (Jesus Christ) also sees each of us.... In this dark world where you and I see so little because of our unrecognizing eyes, he, whose eye is on the sparrow, sees each one of us.... And I believe that because (Jesus) sees us, not even in the darkness of death are we lost to him or lost to each other. I believe that whether we recognize him or not, or believe in him or not, or even know his name, again and again he comes and walks a little way with us along whatever road we're following."**

I have been on the road toward a purpose I thought I understood, only to have my journey interrupted. I would bet the same is true for you, too. More than once in my life, I have been on the road, walking quickly to put something behind me. Furious grief. Bitter disappointment. Sweet hopes that did not come to fruition. Each time, Christ has come alongside, even when I didn't know he was there. I believe in the resurrection, even when I do not understand it. I believe in the resurrection because I have seen it, in my own heart, and my own life. In the lives of those I love. In the life of God's people.

Why are you on the road today, at this moment? What was it that brought you here today? Are you, too, running away? Are you distancing yourself from something painful in your past? Are you seeking a new place, or are you returning home? Are you moving toward a sure purpose, only to find yourself wondering if that's the right destination, after all? What's the story of your journey?

I'm not sure the "why" will end up being so important after all, other than it is what sets us along the path. In the end, I think what will be important is not why we left, or where we thought we were going, but that we will be found along the way. As a resurrection people, we affirm that no matter how many roads we travel, Jesus Christ sees us, walks alongside us at unexpected moments, waits patiently to become known to us. We may not see the why, we may not understand it, we will only know that it has happened, and that it has set us along a different path than the one we were walking before.

Jesus Christ will meet you on your way, in the presence of another, In the breaking of the bread, in the words of Scripture, in the experience of your own heart. Not just once, but over and over and over.

If you have sensed the risen Christ working in your life, to whom have you told your resurrection story? We aren’t meant to keep it all to ourselves, this risen Christ. He is meant to be shared. These two traveling companions, when they realize who has been walking with them, when they finally understand how their lives have radically changed, they rush back to Jerusalem to tell those who haven't seen him yet.

When those times come, when the resurrected Christ breaks into our journey, may we each see him, and know him as he is, just as he sees and knows each of us. May we have the strength and courage to testify to his presence in our lives to those who most need to hear it.

No matter the road, no matter the journey, Jesus Christ sees you, walks with you, today, tomorrow, when you least expect it. You, too, are a traveller on that journey, and you are a part of that resurrection story. To whom will you tell your story, today?

** first published in The Longing for Home (1996) and again in Secrets in the Dark:A Life in Sermons (2007)