On the Road Again

          “Bom dia.  Como foi o seu dia?” for those of you who speak Portuguese.  I plan to learn a new language in retirement, so I’ve already started with Portuguese.  We have friends from Brazil, and their native language is Portuguese.  So, it seems a natural fit. You’ve heard the old saying, “It’s hard to teach old dogs new tricks.”  It’s true! 

          I learned another new word this week unrelated to Portuguese.  It is a Greek word that has made its way into English.  It is anagnorisis (an-ag-nor-isis).  It is used in the theater and literature.  It is when a character recognizes or discovers another character’s true identity.  The classic example of anagnorisis is in the Greek tragedy Oedipus Rex by Sophocles.  When Oedipus discovers his true identity, he learns that he unknowingly married his own mother and murdered his father.  Now, that is quite a discovery.  A more modern example is in one of the Star Wars movies.  Remember when Darth Vader revealed himself as Luke Skywalker’s true father?  That was anagnorisis.

          We have some examples in the Bible too.  We saw one last week, when Mary mistook Jesus for a gardener.  She actually had a conversation with him.  She didn’t recognize it was Jesus until he called her name—Mary. Then she recognized the man before her wasn’t really the gardener.  He was Jesus, and he was alive.

          We have another example of anagnorisis in the wonderful story from Luke 24, which I read earlier.  One of my old professors, Dr. Allan Culpepper, calls this one of “the most developed and most beautiful of the appearance stories.” (INB, Vol. IX, p. 475)  I agree.  It is a strange story, in a way, recorded only by Luke.  It was still Easter Sunday, Luke says.  Two disciples, one of whom was named Cleopas, left Jerusalem for the village of Emmaus.  It was a journey of about seven and a half miles.  At some point in their journey, Luke says that Jesus joined them.  It was Jesus, but Luke says that their eyes were kept from recognizing him.  Think about that.  The risen Christ was with them, and, like Mary, they didn’t recognize him.

          Cleopas and his friend were telling the stranger about all the dreadful things that had just happened in Jerusalem. Jesus innocently asked, “What things?  They were incredulous. They couldn’t believe that this stranger didn’t know what had just happened during the past week.  It would be like someone today asking, “What pandemic?” Notice the irony.  They showed surprise that Jesus did not know what had happened, when in reality Jesus was the only one who did know what had happened in Jerusalem.  Nevertheless, they began to tell this unknown traveler how during the past week this man named Jesus had made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  It was a great day.  Everyone was ecstatic.  They were ready to make him a king.  Everyone thought it was the day of their salvation, finally.  Throughout the week, though, things changed.  This Jesus was arrested.  Barabbas, a common criminal, was released instead of Jesus.  Then Jesus was rushed through a trial and found guilty.  His followers fled.  Finally, late in the week Jesus was crucified.  It was another disappointing end to hopeful story.  But then came Sunday, they told the stranger.  A group of women went to the tomb to prepare Jesus’ body for eternal rest, and they claimed the tomb was empty.  Were they lying?  Had someone stolen the body?  No one could explain it.  Rumors began to spread.  Most outlandishly, some believed the rumor that this Jesus, who was dead, was alive again. 

          But notice that Cleopas and his friend apparently did not believe that outlandish rumor.  Luke says that they were sad, a word that is translated as “dismal” in Matthew.  They just couldn’t believe that silly tale told by the women who had gone to the tomb.  So, they left Jerusalem for Emmaus.  They were on the road, away from Jerusalem, away from all the confusion and chaos and the rumors.

          You know what I think Emmaus was for Cleopas and his friend?  A place of escape.  Some suggest it was their home, and they were simply going home.  Maybe it was home, but it was also a place to escape all the chaos of the past week.  The crucifixion.  The disappointment of the disciples.  That silly tale from the women.  They were just trying to escape. 

          Emmaus.  We all have our Emmaus, don’t we?  The places we go and the things we do to escape. From hurt, from life, from disappointment, from grief.  The writer and theologian, Frederick Buechner, who died last year, reflecting on this text, wrote,

Emmaus is whatever we do or wherever we go to make ourselves forget that the world holds nothing sacred:  that even the wisest and bravest and loveliest decay and die; that even the noblest ideas that men have had—ideas about love and freedom and justice—have always in time been twisted out of shape by selfish men for selfish ends.  Emmaus is where we go, where these two went, to try to forget about Jesus and the great failure of his life.  (The Magnificent Defeat, p. 85)

          The miracle of this text occurred when they arrived in Emmaus. It was late evening on Easter Sunday.  They stopped for the evening, and Luke says that the two disciples prevailed upon this unknown traveler to stay and have dinner with them.  He could have been a robber or murderer, which was fairly common then. Remember the parable of the good Samaritan.  But they took a risk and shared their bread with an unknown traveler. 

          Now, pay close attention to what happens next.  The anagnorisis is about to occur.  The guest became host.  Luke says that Jesus took the bread, broke and blessed it, and gave it to them.   Took, broke, blessed, and gave.  Sound familiar?  Perhaps it did to them too.  Maybe they were with those who had just heard those words Thursday night in the upper room.  When they experienced this sacramental act—he took, broke, blessed, and gave—Luke says that their eyes were opened.  They recognized the stranger who sat before them, the one with whom they shared their bread.  He was Jesus their Lord; he was alive.  It wasn’t an outlandish rumor.  He was alive, and suddenly they were too, alive, in a way they never had been.  Their lives were changed forever.

          Now here’s the strange part.  Luke says that Jesus then vanished.  He was gone.  They recognized him and he just vanished.  Cleopas and the other disciple began to remember then how their hearts burned within them as Jesus talked with them on the road to Emmaus.  Luke says that this experience was so powerful that these two disciples were transformed from dismal disciples, running away from Jerusalem, to ecstatic evangelists eager to tell the world about the risen Lord.  Suddenly they were on the road again, traveling back to Jerusalem, fifteen miles round trip, to tell the apostles the good news.

          Are you looking for a place to escape, an Emmaus?  Down in Dadeville, I bet some people are looking for a place to escape.  They can no longer take the pain, the chaos, and the grief.  It started out as a sweet sixteen birthday party.  By the end of the evening, four people were dead and thirty-two wounded.  A family in Kansas City is probably looking for a place to escape.  Their sixteen year old son went to pick up his siblings.  He accidently went to the wrong house.  The homeowner shot him in the head and arm.  After undergoing brain surgery, fortunately he is expected to recover.

          Most of us have something we would like to escape.  It’s too painful.  It creates too much chaos and grief.  So, give me an Emmaus where I can escape it all. 

          And that is when and where it happens.  That is when Jesus is apt to enter our lives, in the chaos, the grief, the hurt.  Don’t look for a blaze of light.  Don’t listen for a dazzling sermon.  Don’t wait for a miracle.  Pay attention to the everyday moments.  At supper time.  As you walk along a road.  As you entertain a stranger.  One is with us with bread and drink to nourish us.  One is beside us in our vulnerability with words that cause our hearts to burn.  But then as soon as we recognize him, he vanishes, leaving us to do the work he started. And that is where we are this morning.  We have a moment of inspiration, a moment to connect with the Unseen, and that’s all it takes.  That is bread for our journey, nourishment to do our work.  It opens our eyes and makes us alive.  It empowers us to roll up our sleeves and go to work, evangelists with hammers, pots of food, socks, and diapers.  It puts us on the road again.

Closing Prayer 

          Risen Christ, come to us as you did to Cleopas and his companion.  Come to us, open our eyes, and make us alive. Amen.