Sunday, August 27th: "Along the Way: Hopeful Strangers"

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First United Presbyterian Church

“Along the Way: Hopeful Strangers”

Rev. Amy Morgan

August 27, 2023

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. 

I’m often surprised by the things that we will share with a complete stranger. Even brief conversations in the line at the grocery store or with a waiter at a restaurant have yielded revelations about addictions, abuse, trauma, and embarrassment. Some of these things I would imagine are difficult to share with close friends and family, and yet, sharing them with a stranger somehow feels safe. 

Perhaps that is why the disciples on the road to Emmaus are prevented from recognizing Jesus. Their world had just been turned upside down. The Messiah they had been following had been arrested, imprisoned, tortured, and executed. And if that wasn’t traumatic enough, now there are reports that Jesus isn’t really dead but has been resurrected.

Even though they have heard these reports, Cleopas and his companion choose to high-tail it out of Jerusalem. They don’t stick around to find out if the reports are true or to see what will happen next. They bolt. 

And as they are scurrying down the road toward Emmaus, they discuss and debate everything that has happened and is happening. The word translated as “talking” is the same word from which we derive the term homily. They are preaching to each other about what they have experienced. This is not idle chat, it is deep, theological conversation. 

And along comes this stranger who walks the road with them. Now, on a busy road between two populous towns, it would not be unusual to encounter a stranger. And the disciples certainly could have chosen to ignore him. Perhaps they did. Because it is the stranger who inserts himself into their conversation. 

Can you imagine talking with someone about deep, painful, confusing experiences, deep disappointment and grief, and having some random person wander up and ask, “Hey y’all, whatcha talking about?”

And this is essentially what happens. Now, the disciples could have said, “none of your business,” and continued on their way. But Jesus’s question stops them in their tracks. They stand still. They stop their anxious, hurried trek, and turn their full attention to this stranger who seems to be the only person in Jerusalem who doesn’t know what everyone in the city is talking about today. 

But Luke also includes this detail that they looked sad. This isn’t the kind of sad like they were grieving or in mourning. It’s a gloomy or sullen expression. It’s the look of disappointment. And this is exactly what they share with the stranger – their disappointment. 

They had these great expectations of Jesus - he “was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people,” and they “had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” They had hoped he would use his might, his power from God, to restore Israel to freedom and glory. They had hoped. But they were disappointed. 

Now, the disciples’ expectations were not unrealistic, or at least not unwarranted. Reading what the Hebrew scriptures say about the Messiah, anyone might come to the conclusion that Jesus, if he was the promised messiah, would overthrow Israel’s oppressors and usher in peace and prosperity for God’s people. A Jewish Rabbi once told an interfaith group I was part of that the Jews didn’t believe Jesus was the messiah because he didn’t do the things scripture promises the messiah will do. I thought that was reasonable enough. These disciples, and all the Jewish people, had expectations. And for the disciples, Jesus was a disappointment. 

According to a Harvard Business Review article, “To constructively deal with disappointment, we need to first understand what has happened.” This is what Jesus does for the disciples. After they pour their hearts out to this stranger, revealing their disappointment, confusion, and distress, he walks with them along the road, both literally and figuratively, to help them understand what happened. The disciples later describe this experience as having the scriptures broken wide open for them. They had inherited one understanding of what they should expect from the messiah. But Jesus opened up other possibilities for them that perfectly aligned with their experience of Jesus. 

The disciples’ disappointment had arrested their journey. But Jesus’s translation of the past into their lived experience allows them to keep moving. 

And the disciples find this experience so life-giving, once they reach their destination, they compel Jesus to stay with them instead of continuing down the road. We talk about prayer and faith and time with Jesus like it’s this difficult chore we have to have the discipline to complete with any regularity. But here the disciples are practically begging for more time with a stranger who has transformed their disappointment into hope. There’s nothing difficult or disciplined about it. There is urgency and excitement. Their hearts are on fire, not because of their devotion to Jesus but because Jesus came and journeyed with them. 

And then, in this small and ordinary act of breaking bread, their eyes are opened, and they recognize Jesus. And then he vanishes. The disciples don’t sleep on this experience or ponder it in their hearts or go back to their theological debates. They immediately get up from the table, travel seven miles through the night, to share this experience with the other disciples. That’s what happens when we recognize the presence of Jesus, when we recognize that the transformation we’ve experienced is not our own doing but is the direct consequence of divine intervention. We can’t wait to tell people about it. 

We all carry expectations of God. We have scriptures that testify to miraculous healings and resurrections, release of captives and casting out demons. There really are no expectations that are too great for the creator and ruler of the universe. You’ll never hear me preaching that we should lower our expectations of God. 

We expect a lot from God. And we should. But sometimes those expectations are met with heartbreak. When we hope the tumor is benign. When we hope our relationship troubles get worked out. When we hope our child recovers. When we hope the baby makes it to term. When we hope for a peaceful death. When we hope to experience God’s presence when we pray. We have great expectations, and we experience great disappointments. 

One of my greatest disappointments was as I was finishing my seminary studies and seeking my first call. I was being interviewed by a church that felt like just the perfect fit. It was everything I knew I was supposed to be doing with my shiny new seminary education. And I didn’t get that job. Or the next one. Or the next one. I found myself borrowing money so that me and Jason and baby Dean could move in with my parents while I started my call search all over again. It was a huge let-down. I had no idea what God was up to, but it didn’t feel like what I expected at all. 

And the rest of the story isn’t that I found the even more perfect call later on and we all lived happily ever after. The rest of the story is that I discovered, after a lot of walking and talking, a lot of listening and learning, a lot of really ordinary moments, that Jesus was on the road with me, all the time. Wherever I decided to go, the question wasn’t “is this where God wants me to go?” The question was, “how can I recognize Jesus with me on this journey?” What I discovered is that hope doesn’t come from our expectations being met. Hope comes from the realization that things we thought were dead have returned to life. Hope comes from knowing that Jesus is our undying hope who is with us on all our life’s journeys.

Sometimes he comes in the guise of a curious stranger who stops us in our tracks and lets us tell them our story. Sometimes, he translates the past into our lived experience in new ways. And sometimes, in simple and ordinary moments, we can recognize the living presence of things we thought were dead and gone. 

The disciples learn that the story they are living is bigger than they are, bigger than their disappointment, as great as it is. They learn that the ending is not what they expected, and that it is even better than they could have expected. Their hope is restored not because they discover Jesus is everything they expected him to be. Their hope is restored because they suddenly recognize that someone they thought was dead has come back to life. 

When our expectations are dashed, there is this vulnerable space that opens up in us, where we are receptive to new translations of the past and new visions for the future. We can recognize that along the way, we have gained deeper authenticity and more enduring strength, passionate energy and resolved commitment, tender compassion and courageous acceptance. These may not be the outcomes we hoped for, the healing, recovery, peace, or presence we feel like we were promised. But they are gifts that abide with us long after the crisis has passed. They are gifts that will sustain us like bread broken and shared. They are the gifts of a loving God in the midst of a broken world. 

And when these gifts come to us, when we recognize how God is at work in our lives, where Jesus has been on the road with us, we can share that living, undying hope with others. We can share “what happened on the road and in the breaking of the bread.” We can reverse our retreat from disappointment and pain and re-engage with the life that has been given to us. 

Hope is alive. In our journeys of pain and disappointment. In our journeys of running away and wandering aimlessly. In conversations and translations. In broken bread and burning hearts. Hope is alive, and will never die, because Jesus has risen and is on the road with us. 

Thanks be to God. Amen.