Where Jesus promises to meet us

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.

Last Sunday we looked at the familiar story of doubting Thomas, who was unwilling to take his faith secondhand but insisted on a direct encounter with the risen Christ before he would believe.  He didn’t just want to rely on the testimony of others; he wanted his own experience.   And Jesus obliged; but what about those who have not seen - how will they believe?  Do we just need to make ourselves believe the words of the Bible?  Or might we too have an encounter with the living God?   

The story of Jesus’ encounter with two disciples on the road to Emmaus addresses these very important questions.  It takes place on Easter, apparently only hours after the women returned to report the empty tomb.  You might think these guys would stick around Jerusalem a little bit longer to see how this shakes out, but they’re leaving town.  As they walk along, Jesus joins them on the road, but their eyes were kept from recognizing them.  He asks them what they’re talking about, and they’re incredulous that he’s apparently unfamiliar with what’s just happened.  They tell him all about Jesus, who they’d hoped was the messiah but who had been crucified.  Then Jesus began to chide them for not understanding that this all played out exactly as the Scriptures had foretold, that the messiah must suffer before being exalted. “Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.”  

Soon they arrived at their destination, and Jesus made as if he were going to continue, but the two disciples invited him to stay the night since it was getting late.  It might seem strange to us that you’d invite in a stranger you’d met on the road, but at that time and place there was a cultural expectation that you would extend hospitality to the stranger (at leas if the stranger was also a Jew).  Even though Jesus is the guest, he takes the bread, blesses it and breaks it - and at this point the disciples eyes were opened and they recognized Jesus.  And immediately he vanished - but they had seen enough.  

Christians have, from the very beginning, seen in the breaking of the bread an allusion to the eucharist, to communion, to Christ’s table.  In case we’re wondering just how and when their eyes were opened and stye came to see Jesus, the episode concludes, “Then they told what had happened on the road and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.”  

If you’re like me you’ve heard many times over the years that the answer to any question about how to increase your faith or know God more is to read the Bible. So it might be surprising to read here that the disciples eyes remained closed, Jesus’ identity remained hidden from view, even as he himself explained the Scriptures to them!  Presumably Jesus leads a pretty compelling Bible study.  And clearly these two disciples are at the very least curious about these things, since they themselves were discussing it before Jesus showed up.  Even so their eyes remained closed.  

Lest anyone get the wrong idea, this is not to suggest that knowing Scripture isn’t important - clearly Jesus thought it was - but simply that knowing about God and actually knowing God are not the same thing.  You can know what you’re supposed to believe but not truly believe it.  There are people out there who have come to faith by reading a Bible, or who have moved from belief to unbelief because someone explained something or prevailed in argument.   But we’re driven far less by our heads than we think.  It’s our experiences that really move us.  

The story of the Emmaus road offers a kind of allegory for Christian worship.  In our community we have intentionally adopted an ancient form of worship where Scripture reading and preaching precede communion - and where communion happens every time we gather.  Ours is a service of word and table.  As much as I’d like to tell myself that listening to me week after week is going to change your life, that you’ll respond to me like the crowds did to Peter’s preaching in Acts, I actually expect that thing most likely thing to open your eyes, over the long term, is coming to the table.  

If you talk about how Christ meets us when we come to the table it’s hard to avoid the subject of just how Christ is or is not present there.  Most of us know to some extent or another about the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, that when the mass properly celebrated, the elements actually become the very body and blood of Christ.  That’s a strong claim that something happens at the table; It’s a real encounter.  Protestants think, for various reasons, that this doctrine goes too far - maybe way too far.  When I was growing up Baptist the impression was that we did communion simply because Jesus told us to, but it was emphasized that nothing actually happens.  If it had any effect it was only one that the occasion inspired you to enact upon yourself.  At the table it was us, not God, who did anything.  As is so often the case, a correction became an over-correction.  

But this story encourages to see that while Christ can show up anywhere, the place he reliably shows up is in the breaking of the bread.  While we should’t deny that Christ can be present everywhere, to emphasize that easily becomes a denial that he is to be found anywhere in particular.  But we can and should insist that the table is the place where Christ promises to meet us, and we should go there in anticipation that he’s waiting to receive us.  And we can insist this without having to specify the mode of Christ’s presence to us.  We might even dare to call what we do a sacrament. 

Every Sunday, as part of our communion liturgy, the celebrant (usually me) prays, “Pour out your Holy Spirit on us gathered here, and on these gifts of bread and wine. Make them be for us the body and blood of Christ, that we may be for the world the body of Christ, redeemed by his blood.”  It’s an elegantly ambiguous formulation.  We don’t exactly know what Christ meant when told the disciples, “this is my body… this my blood’ - but whatever he meant, we pray the very same is true here and now, that it is the very body and blood, for us.  

The table is the place where we do not just hear about God but where we are invited to meet God.  It is where we are not just a passive audience to Christ’s story, but active participants in the very life of Christ, where we are incorporated into the body of Christ.  We often make coming to the table contingent (in theory, if not in practice) on whether or not a person understands what it all means, but what would a sufficient comprehension of this mystery be?  

We come to the table less to express our faith and more to increase our faith, not to say that we know God but in the desire to know God more.  We come in the hope that we will experience the risen Christ and that our eyes will be opened.  And then, in the light of that encounter, all the Scriptures we’ve heard and maybe even thought we understood will come alive, that we’ll look back and realize what we could not at the time, that our hearts were burning within us.