Luke 24.13-35 — Andy James

A Strange and Wonderful Meal

April 3, 2016 By Andy James

a sermon on Luke 24:13-35
preached on April 3, 2016, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone
There are a multitude of ways to spend time with people you enjoy. You might go to dinner and a movie—in a theater or in someone’s home. If you happen to live in New York City and have the budget for it, you might go see a Broadway show, a ballet, an opera, or some other cultural event. You might get together at someone’s house for a meal, some conversation, and maybe a game of some sort. And depending on your interests, you might go to a sporting event of some sort or wander around a museum together.

My two favorite options, though, are a little different. For me, there’s nothing quite like taking a walk or sharing a meal. The conversation that comes even in quiet as you wander the streets or parks of our city connects us with one another. Conversation flows, ideas are exchanged, and something special happens as we spend time together. Then, in those times when we sit at table together, we find a strange presence in our midst, as walls of division are broken down and the connection among those present deepens all the more.

Rembrandt?, The Walk to Emmaus

Maybe my appreciation of shared walks and meals with friends is rooted in our resurrection story from Luke this morning. The story of Easter morning that we heard last Sunday offers us a clear proclamation of the resurrection, but we never actually see Jesus alive again. The only evidence of the resurrection is an empty tomb, and that could be caused by so many things other than resurrection. So with the proof of this strange event limited to a missing body, Jesus’ disciples start to move on with their lives, scattering from Jerusalem in disbelief as they start to figure out what they will do without their beloved teacher and friend.

Two of them then set out on the road to the village Emmaus, a seven-mile journey from Jerusalem, easily reachable on foot in a somewhat leisurely afternoon journey. The conversation naturally turned to everything that they had experienced together over the last week—the triumphant arrival of Jesus into Jerusalem as the people cried out “Hosanna,” the challenging teachings that Jesus had offered in the temple, the Passover meal that they had shared, the arrest and trial of their friend, the chants of the crowd to “crucify him,” the sentence of death urged on by religious leaders and proclaimed by the Roman governor, the strange events at Golgotha as Jesus was crucified, the placement of his body in a simple, new tomb, and now the reports that his body had gone missing so quickly.

As they walked and talked, another man joined them on the road, joining in their surely animated conversation, asking them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” His question stopped them in their tracks as it all soaked in. Their journey with Jesus had begun somewhat unexpectedly as they stepped away from their families and homes and livelihoods because there was something compelling about his message. They had taken him seriously when he invited them—maybe even insisted to them—to set everything aside and follow him. Their worlds had been turned upside down by this journey, this message, this man. And now, after an eventful week, they found their world turned upside down once again because he was no longer with them. So this strange man’s question came as a real surprise. He forced them to take stock of their emotions and lives for the first time in light of everything that had happened—and they quite literally stopped in their tracks.

As they began to answer this stranger’s question and walk along together again, the disciples told this stranger about their friend Jesus, about their hopes for him, about the death that he had experienced, and about the empty tomb that the women had found that very morning. Even though the stranger said he had not heard anything about what had happened to Jesus, he soon began to explain everything that they had told him about, interpreting everything that had happened in light of the scriptures that they all knew so very well. The conversation flowed, and the disciples came to a deeper understanding of everything that they had experienced.

He Qi, The Road to Emmaus

When the afternoon came to an end and the disciples reached their destination in Emmaus, the stranger “walked ahead as if he were going on.” But they were insistent:

Stay with us,
because it is almost evening
and the day is now nearly over.

Convinced by the logic of their argument and the lengthening shadows all around them, the stranger joined the disciples for the night. When they sat down at the table to share the evening meal, though, everything shifted once again. The guest became the host, blessing and breaking the bread, inviting them to share in a feast beyond their knowing. Suddenly the disciples recognized that the stranger who had been with them all afternoon was none other than the risen and living Jesus himself!

Just as quickly as they had recognized him, he vanished from their sight. They began to wonder and question and ask,“Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” They immediately set out for Jerusalem again, ignoring their own advice to the stranger that it was too late to be traveling—their joy was too great, and they had to share this news with the other disciples! When they arrived there, they learned that Peter had also seen Jesus alive again, and “they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.”

This incredible, life-changing, world-shattering walk and meal marked a dramatic shift for the disciples as they went from skeptics to witnesses of the resurrection in the time it took for an afternoon walk and an evening meal. We can join in this walk, this meal, and this transformation for ourselves as we make our way through these Easter days.

Fritz von Uhde, Road to Emmaus

First, we are invited to join the disciples in sharing the stories of our walks with Jesus in the journeys of our lives. We can bear witness to the ways that we have been changed by our encounters with the story of Jesus’ life and ministry as we walk with others along the way. We can talk with one another about how the experiences of Christ in our world have changed us and opened us to new and different ways of seeing and living in the world. And we can explore how the stories of Jesus’ life and ministry connect us with one another and with Christ as we walk this way together.

Then, we can gather at table for this meal as we look for the presence of Christ in our midst. We can open the doors to this feast wide so that all may know the kind of welcome that God offers here. We can come here expecting that Christ will meet us and be made known to us in the breaking of the bread, just as he was to the disciples on that first Easter evening. And we can trust that the feast we share here opens us to a great feast yet to come, to the feast on God’s holy mountain, “a feast of rich food, a feast of well- aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well- aged wines strained clear.”

These journeys and these meals are then the openings for us of the deeper, broader, wider transformation of the world. Just like the disciples, our worlds are turned upside down by the journeys and the meals that show us the resurrection. We cannot meet the risen Christ along the road or at the table and be the same. We cannot claim the resurrection as our own and live as if Jesus’ death matters more than his new life. We cannot claim a meal of new life here at this table and live as if nothing has changed. And we cannot go forth into the world to hear and see and witness the resurrection for ourselves if all that we are looking for is life beyond death for ourselves.

So as we make our way to this strange and wonderful meal today, as we journey forth into the world to walk with one another and quite likely with Jesus himself, may we know the presence of the risen Christ among us so that we can be a part of his work of transformation in our world and as all things are being made new.

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

A Meal to Bring Us Together

September 6, 2015 By Andy James

a sermon on 1 Corinthians 11:17-34 and Luke 24:13-35
preached on September 6, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

There’s nothing quite like a meal to bring us together. When a new colleague comes to the neighborhood, when I want to get to know someone better, when an old friend comes to town and we need to catch up, when someone just needs a listening ear, I prefer not just to sit down for a chat—I do everything I can to find time to share a meal together. No matter the menu, regardless of the location, whether the service is bad or good, something special happens across that table. I can’t really explain why, but I do know that there’s nothing quite like a meal to bring us together.

Today as we look at the Lord’s Supper in our summer series exploring the parts of the worship service, our two texts give us some insights into how this meal that we share here brings us together. Both texts connect us to the origins of this feast. Paul gives us words that tell the story of a meal hosted by Jesus on the night of his arrest that we use every time we gather here, and Luke describes how a simple, unplanned evening meal on the day of resurrection became a place to meet Jesus. In their different settings and different stories, our two texts today show us a meal that brings us together.

First, in Paul’s record of what we know as the words of institution of the Lord’s Supper, we get a glimpse of some of the problems that the early church faced as they tried to share this meal. The church in Corinth clearly had a lot of issues, and we’ll be talking more about those in Bible study starting this week, but Paul was particularly frustrated at how the inclusion of a meal in the worship practice of the church was driving people apart. The early church considered the Lord’s Supper as a time for all the people to come together to share a substantial meal—with portions a good bit larger than even the largest chunks of bread and grape juice that has become the norm today—but in Corinth, the great variety of people in the church had made this meal a very disconnected affair. Some people brought plenty to eat for themselves but wouldn’t share with others, emerging from the feast bloated and drunk. Others were not able to bring anything and so were left to go hungry. This meal to bring people together across all their divisions was becoming highly effective at driving them apart!

In response to all this, Paul reminded them of the words of institution that were surely familiar to them, making it clear that this feast was not so much about the food itself but about the gathering of God’s people to share it. He went on to caution the Corinthians that they needed to be prepared to share this meal. “Examine yourselves,” he told them, “…for all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves.” As they sat down to eat, he wanted them to think about the whole body of Christ to which they were connected, to remember that they did not eat on their own but rather were brought together in the midst of this meal.

The church has thought much of this examination over the last two millennia. For many decades, Presbyterian churches required those who wished to receive communion to present a token at the table that had been given to them if they had been judged worthy to commune during a visit from elders of the church in the days before communion was served. And even today, some churches include a time of what they call “fencing the table” based directly on Paul’s words here during the introduction to the communion liturgy. But what seems to have mattered to Paul here was not one’s general sinfulness or status of forgiveness but rather one’s readiness to come together with others in this meal, for this table is not a place of personal devotion but a place to share a meal to bring us together.

Our second reading from the gospel according to Luke reminds us of this all the more. After a journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus, filled with an unexpected conversation with a stranger along the way about all that they had experienced in the death of Jesus and the reports of his resurrection, these two disciples settled down at table with their guest to share a meal. As their guest blessed and broke the bread that they are to share, their eyes were opened to discover that they had been walking and talking with Jesus all along the way! Their experience of joy was momentary as Jesus disappeared from their midst, but they quickly returned to Jerusalem to share their experience with the other disciples in hopes that they might encounter Jesus again very soon. Even though they saw him again, they knew that there was something special about this and every meal that could bring them together with Jesus.

In the many centuries since these original descriptions of this meal, the church has integrated the Lord’s Supper more clearly into our life of worship and thought long and hard about what it means. Along the way, we all too often have gotten lost in the details. We have given this meal so many different names—communion, the Lord’s Supper, agape feast, Eucharist, Mass—that we get lost in what we call it before we even think about why we do it. Even worse, wars have been fought, families divided, and lives lost over exactly what happens when we break this bread and share this cup. We have too often demanded that those who come to this table understand what is going on here, forgetting that ultimately this is a place of wonder we place our faith and trust and hope in God as we receive a sign and seal of God’s grace that we can see, touch, feel, smell, and taste for ourselves as we are mysteriously brought together with God and with innumerable saints to share this incredible meal. When we get too focused on the meaning, we miss the bigger point here, that this is a meal to bring us together.

Our intense focus on the meaning of what happens here has made it all the easier to resist the call to let this meal bring us together. The news of recent weeks has been filled with far too many stories of people pushed apart and away from this and other tables. Violence divides communities in our city and nation, and we prefer methods of punishment that insist on exchanging an eye for an eye rather than seeking a path of restoration, reconciliation, and transformation. Evidence continues to emerge that points to systematic mistreatment of the poor and minorities by the criminal justice system in our city, state, and nation, not to mention all too many places where they are very directly deprived of their rights. So many who are seeking to be president of our nation are using rhetoric that excludes immigrants, the poor, LGBT persons, and others, pushing people away from the common table of our land. And beyond our shores, European political leaders have responded to the growing refugee crisis there by turning away people who do not look or believe like them in ways that eerily echo words and actions before and during World War II that contributed to the mass murder of millions of Jews and others in Germany and beyond.

Amid all these loud cries around us telling us that we are better when we are apart, it is difficult to hear the call to sit down and share a meal like this one to bring us together. But this table reminds us that there is another way. At this table, we can glimpse the unity that we will have in the kingdom of God so that we can be strengthened to live a little more like that in the days ahead.

The incredible film Places in the Heart offers a little glimpse of a meal that can bring us together. The movie chronicles one family’s journey through the challenges of murder, racism, economic distress, and even natural disaster. In the end, only sheer endurance and an incredible portion of grace bring the people of Waxahachie, Texas, and especially widow Edna Spalding and her family through to see a new day. Time and again in the movie, we are taken to the table, first the many tables set for Sunday lunch that are interrupted by word of the town drunk on the loose with a gun who ends up shooting the sheriff, the Spalding’s table that shifts from hosting the family meal to offering a place for the dead sheriff’s body to be prepared for burial, even the simple tables under the trees where the sheriff’s widow constantly makes sure that the black migrant workers she employs are fed.

All these scenes at table culminate in a moving gathering at the Lord’s Table, where characters gather across all the lines that had divided them to share a simple meal of bread and grape juice. As the trays are passed along the pews, women and men, old and young, blind and sighted, black and white, living and dead, even murderer and victim—all share the bread of heaven, the cup of salvation, the peace of God that comes in this strange feast. I know of no better image that embodies the wonder of this great feast that brings together those who have been set against one another, that unites us across every imaginable division, that lifts us up to sit in the presence of Christ himself to share this incredible feast of heaven and earth.

So as we gather at this table today, may God’s presence surround us as we share this meal, so that every time we sit at this or any table, we might know the incredible gift of this meal that brings us together with one another and God until we sit at table together in the kingdom of God forever and ever. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Companions Along the Way

May 4, 2014 By Andy James

a sermon on Luke 24:13-35
preached on May 4, 2014, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

It started out as a simple Sunday afternoon journey, a way to ease back into a routine after a devastating week, a step toward finding a new normal after the death of a cherished friend and beloved teacher. But when those two disciples set out from Jerusalem to Emmaus on that first Easter afternoon, they had no idea that they would encounter such a companion along the way. By then they had heard the rumblings of resurrection from a couple women who had visited the tomb, but they clearly didn’t trust that news—it was pretty unbelievable in the first place, and on top of that, it came from unreliable sources—women!

Their conversation along the road surely started out with some sadness and pity, though I suspect that it quickly turned to discussion of what was next for them now that Jesus, the man who had brought them together, was dead. In the meantime, though, it had to be good for them to have each other as companions along the way, to be with even one other person who had known Jesus and his teaching, who had been a part of the joyous procession just a week before, who had watched as he was led away to be crucified, who had witnessed his execution at the hands of the religious and political authorities of the day. So they talked and walked together, sharing their grief and sorrow and confusion and hurt, airing their feelings with each other, lifting up all the things that had happened in those days.

Then a strange man overheard their conversation and joined in. “What are you talking about?” he inquired. They were stunned. He had clearly overheard part of their conversation, but he didn’t know what had been going on? How could he not have heard about what happened to Jesus? How could anyone in Jerusalem not have been aware of this injustice? They “stood still” and stopped in their tracks, overcome with even more grief. But soon they found the words to explain to this stranger everything that had happened to Jesus—the proclamation of the kingdom of God that he offered, his strange arrest and conviction, his crucifixion and death, and now the empty tomb.

Having heard all this that was making them sad, the stranger offered a surprising word. Rather than just moving along beyond the grieving friends on the road or comforting them with simple platitudes, he explained everything that had happened. Even though he had not heard about the events of the past week, he took their few details and put them into the bigger story of God’s work. So as they walked on toward Emmaus from Jerusalem, these three found themselves as new companions along the way as this stranger opened the scriptures to the two disciples, explained how all that had happened was in fulfillment of the prophets, and described how the Messiah had to suffer in order to be glorified.

After an enlightening afternoon of conversation among new friends, the time came to stop again. The two disciples had reached Emmaus, their destination, and the stranger who had joined them was prepared to go on, but they encouraged him to stop a little longer: “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” It was a different day and age, with little or no light to guide and protect those who traveled at night, so it was certainly time to bring the day’s journeys to an end, and the stranger agreed to stick around with his new companions on the way.

As they sat down together for dinner, the stranger offered the blessing over the bread, then he broke it and gave it to them to eat. Suddenly they realized that this stranger they had met on the road was no stranger at all: he was Jesus. The man who had eased their minds about everything that had happened was none other than the crucified and risen Lord. The new companion along the way who broke bread with them that night had done the same thing just three nights before. Before they could really say anything more, the stranger disappeared from their sight, but they knew exactly what had happened: Jesus was alive! The rumors of resurrection were realities, and they had spent the afternoon with him without even knowing it.

Even though it was evening and time to settle in for the night, they got up and ran back to Jerusalem. They found the disciples gathered together, already celebrating because Peter had seen the risen Lord, and all of them together rejoiced because Jesus had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Following after these disciples, we too now expect to find Jesus made known to us in the breaking of the bread. This is why we gather at this table each and every Sunday during the season of Easter, for we trust that just as the risen Christ met his disciples at the table on that first Easter evening, we too will meet him in this holy meal here. But I think this story also reminds us that we will meet Jesus at other times, too—in those who walk a little way with us on the journey, in those who open the scriptures to us, in those who make our hearts burn with love along the way, in those who show us the mercy and grace and peace of our risen Lord in their words and actions each and every day, in such varied companions along whatever way is before us in these days.

I had several of these encounters in my life over the past week. On Thursday, as I drove back from a meeting in Philadelphia, my heart sank as I learned from Beth and Bill of the water damage in the office that has occupied my life pretty well over the last several days. I spent almost the entire trip back on the phone, dealing with insurance companies and the water damage remediation firm to address the mess. In the midst of it all, though, there were strange companions on the way: first Beth and Bill who worked to address the immediate problem and then stayed at the church with me through the evening as the remediation crew worked, then two close friends who listened to my complaints and uncertainties as I made my way along the New Jersey Turnpike back to Queens, also the gentle and secure presence of our insurance broker, the representative from the water damage firm who called me before I could call him, and even one of the cleanup crew who offered us a blessing after spending two hours cleaning up the mess. In these and others, I had companions for the journey, reminders of God’s presence who made it clear that the frustrations and complications of those moments were not the end of the story, glimpses of the risen Christ in everyone who walked even a little way with us.

There are innumerable such companions who join with us along the way. Those who have walked these past few days with me are only a few of the many saints who have shown me glimpses of the risen Christ over the years, and I trust that you too have had similar encounters along the journeys of your lives. As we make our way to share this feast this morning, I invite you to think of those who have journeyed with you along the way, women and men who have shown you a little glimpse of the risen Christ in our world, and then to lift them up by name or by action as we gather our prayers together at the table so that we might give thanks for the presence of the risen Christ in our midst all the more.

So as this Easter season continues, may we too be strengthened by the companions along the way so that we might walk in faith, hope, and love all our days and see and show the presence of the risen and living Christ everywhere we go until he comes again. Lord, come quickly! Amen.

No Ordinary Journey

April 7, 2013 By Andy James

a sermon on Luke 24:13-35 for the Second Sunday of Easter
preached on April 7, 2013, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

It started out as just an ordinary journey, two of the disciples walking about seven miles from Jerusalem to the nearby village of Emmaus on a Sunday afternoon. But it was not an ideal time to make the trip. Passover celebrations were in full swing in the city, and people were coming and going everywhere. Others were catching up on trips that they had postponed for a day due to the Sabbath. And the disciples were still somewhat shocked and saddened by the strange events that had swirled around them just a couple days before as their friend and teacher Jesus had been tried and executed by the religious and civil authorities of Jerusalem.

That morning before they left, though, some of the women who had accompanied them along the way reported that the tomb where they had laid him on Friday was empty. Most everyone felt that this was pretty silly, really—an idle tale—it was time to get on with life and put Jesus behind them. So the two disciples began that day’s journey as a pretty normal walk along a familiar road, with their spirits somewhat subdued by the grief and pain that were still in the air even as they started to think about how they would go on with life without Jesus.

Along the road, a stranger eased his way into their conversation. He asked them what they were talking about and why they were so sad as they walked along the way. Apparently he had not heard of the events of Thursday and Friday, so they brought him up to speed as they walked and talked. But this stranger didn’t share their sadness at the death of their friend and teacher. Instead, he suggested that this person, this Messiah, had come for this very reason, to experience these very things, to suffer and die and then enter into his glory. He wasn’t worried that the tomb had been found to be empty—instead he suggested that this was all exactly as God had intended and very much in line with all that Moses and the prophets had said over the centuries. The conversation with this stranger made the seven miles on the road pass quickly for the two disciples, and what had seemed to be an ordinary walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus started to become something to remember.

Like the disciples, I’m quite a fan of a good walk. A brisk walk remains my preferred way to get exercise, even though I certainly do it far less than I should! On nice days like we’ve finally started having recently, there’s nothing quite like a good walk to clear my mind and get a little blood flowing. And there’s no better way to restore my spirit after some busy days than to share a walk around New York City with a good friend. Most of my walks are pretty unremarkable, really—I don’t expect to have a grand epiphany of life that helps me to understand God and the world better or run into someone who will change my life. Normally they are just ordinary journeys, a way to get from point A to point B and give me some time to clear my head and assess the day before I dive back in to the busyness of the world.

By the time those two disciples and the stranger who walked with them got to Emmaus, it seemed to have been a pretty ordinary journey, save for the especially good conversation with the stranger that had helped take their mind off their grief and sorrow. As the disciples started to head into the village for the night, the stranger who had walked with them prepared to continue on to his destination, but it was late, so the disciples invited him to stay the night and join them for a little more conversation. When they sat down for dinner, the stranger “took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.”

In this moment, something happened. As he broke the bread, as this guest took on the role of host, this stranger was no longer unknown. The two disciples realized that they had known this man all along. They had not been talking with a stranger all day—they had been talking with Jesus. Not only that, the reports of the empty tomb were true—Jesus was alive! But then just as quickly as they had realized that it was Jesus with them, “he vanished from their sight.” It had indeed been no ordinary journey after all—they had spent the afternoon with Jesus without even knowing it!

That walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus was pretty incredible—it’s nearly impossible to beat that kind of a story! Even when I look back on the best conversations I’ve had while walking, none of them even begin to measure up to what the disciples experienced! But this extraordinary journey can still illuminate even the most mundane walks in our lives. Like the disciples, we can share our hopes and dreams and struggles and fears with those who walk with us along the road. Like the disciples, we might just meet someone unexpected who can help us understand where we have been and where we are going. And like the disciples, we might just encounter God in strangers we meet along the way.

Even when things are pretty normal and uneventful along our journeys, we can trust that God is working to prepare our hearts and minds for whatever encounter is ahead for us, that God is walking with us along the varied roads of our lives and opening our eyes to the fullness of the divine presence just when we need to recognize this new thing in our midst. Because of this incredible encounter on the road to Emmaus and at table with Jesus, we can trust that even our most ordinary journeys can be filled with the wonder and grace and mystery of our God who is made known to us in the breaking of bread.

This extraordinary journey was not over for the disciples. They had to get back to Jerusalem as quickly as they could. They had seen the Lord, and they had to let everyone else know about it, even if it was late, the road dark, and their bodies tired. By the time they got back, reports were streaming in from near and far of encounters with Jesus—not only had the women seen an empty tomb, not only had they talked with Jesus all afternoon along the road, Peter had seen him too! Their return to Jerusalem was no ordinary journey—even though it was the same road they had walked just a few hours before, their sorrow had turned to joy. They were ready to celebrate the resurrection and figure out what was next for them as they kept following Jesus along this new road together.

And so as we too go our way on the roads of life, as we walk the Emmaus roads of our world with friends and strangers and even on our own, as we gather and go forth from this table of joy where we trust that we will meet our risen Lord, God calls us to trust that all these are no ordinary journeys. All our lives are holy encounters with God, where anyone we meet might show us the face of God, where any meal we share might help us to see our dining companions in a new light, where every step we take helps us to see God’s new creation a little more clearly and shows us how we can join in, where we are called to proclaim the wonder of resurrection to our world that is so afraid of death.

And so as we gather at this table today, may God open our eyes to see the risen Christ present among us so that we might rise to serve and show his risen life to others and prepare to meet him on the extraordinary journey ahead. Thanks be to God. Amen.