Monthly Archives: April 2023

Walking the Emmaus Road

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Sermon preached on Easter 3 2023 based on Luke 24:13-35

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

May I speak and may you hear… sounds like a one-sided conversation to me, and I guess that’s what a sermon is. But it shouldn’t be just so. A sermon or talk should help interpret the words of scripture that have been selected as the day’s topic and bring it to life, using historical facts, contextual references and theological reasoning, so that it can be applied to people’s lives for today.

For some people listening they will find themselves pondering over a word or phrase that they heard at the beginning, such as the fact that Emmaus is about seven miles from Jerusalem and they were having to walk there, on dusty roads, in the hot sun, in sandals, over rocky ground… meanwhile the talk has moved on and they end up having to try and catch up with the main thread.

Whilst others will take on board the key points, weaving them into a coherent thought stream of consciousness. Hopefully, by the end of the talk, the listener will understand a little clearer what the message is within the text and the talk’s climax will reveal something to provide them with something to take away and share with others.

So, let’s see if together we can’t work out what we should be having a conversation about this morning, what questions we have, our ideas and thoughts and the possible and impossible answers we could come to, to help us leave a little bit more aware of what it might mean for us and for others.

We are imagining ourselves back to that fateful Friday. We have witnessed or heard that Jesus has been crucified, his dead body taken down and his body placed inside a sealed tomb. The joy of his arrival in Jerusalem and promise of change now dashed aside. We have spent a mournful Sabbath, wondering how so many people can have been so naive to have staked everything on one man – a man whom God has cast aside just like all of his prophets had been cast aside before.

And here we all are, walking that same road, with our thoughts and questions, our experiences of life, our hopes and dreams, wondering if we can believe all the things that have been told to us. Feeling foolish from time to time to admit that we believe something that we can never prove with incontrovertible evidence.

Therefore, we share our thoughts and alongside us comes a stranger, who wants to know what we are talking about; and we are saddened that here is someone who hasn’t heard about this man, but who appears willing to listen to us. So, we tell of this incredible Jesus of Nazareth, who seemed to have the voice of God and power that brought physical and mental healing and was able to do such things that would appear miraculous for just a man. A man who could have saved us and forever redeemed Israel before God.

A stranger who might appear in our very midst at any time, who wants to know what it is we believe in, what knowledge do we have that makes such a difference to the way we live, how we treat people, who we love and what we hope for.

And this morning reports of an empty tomb, a missing body and angelic visions speaking of resurrection! But we’re not afraid to reveal the fact that something amazing, incomprehensible, and downright impossible seems to have happened. People whom we have got to know really well and grown to trust have been telling us that Jesus is actually alive.

So, what do we tell our stranger this morning? Tales or legends, mythological stories and fables or the truth?

Truth that has been revealed from the beginning of time, through generations of people who lived as God’s people, who knew him and those whom he sent to guide them. God, who stood by them as they turned away and then welcomed them back with open arms. Who taught them to live according to his word, and whose Word appeared in the form of his Son, the promised Messiah. Whose life would be offered up, to suffer on the cross and whose resurrection would reveal the Saviour of the world.

The evidence is there for us to share as well. For those two disciples it was revealed in the breaking of the bread at a meal they invited the stranger to share. For us it could be through our hospitality, our outreach, our pastoral concerns, our love of God and our love of each other, both friend and stranger.

Eager to do so, we hurry to tell our own experiences to others and find that some of them have already heard the Good News. But there are still many more who haven’t, so we share our experiences, why our belief in God in making a difference in our lives and how the same could be true for them.

Our one-sided conversations has become a two-way discussion, and if our words can ignite a flame that burns brightly in other’s hearts then we will know that Jesus has been alongside us all the time, even if we have never seen him… until we break bread together.

Amen

Where Were You?

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When they ask, ‘Where were you the day that Jesus died?’ What am I going to tell them?

That I was standing at the foot of the cross, comforting his mother? That I was berating the authorities and telling them what a mistake they were making? Or that I was locked in a room in full self-preservation mode?

What have these last three years taught me, if not to take chances, to shake a soft fist at those who misuse their transient powers and to trust that God has everything in hand. But now the man, who was showing us a new way of living, who was a true teacher of what it means to love God and to love one another; the man whom I was proud to declare as ‘the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’ My closest and most dearest friend, has gone, and perhaps with it all of our hopes and dreams.

Yes, there were signs and warnings, he’d tried to prepare us, but perhaps we were too slow or too dull to really understand what he was talking about. Why would he look at me, Simon, son of Jonah, simply a fisherman and see someone who would be a rock on which to build anything, let alone his church.

How could he trust me to do such a thing, when I couldn’t even trust in him, even though he showed me time after time that I should. That it was possible to step out of my comfort zone and achieve the impossible. How confident I had felt when he told me to do just that and step out of the boat onto those foam flecked waves, eyes set firmly on him, able to walk as he walked. Until my trust wavered and was replaced by this same fear. Even then he caught me, but who will be there now to catch me when I fail, as fail I surely will without him.

So many incredible things that I’ve witnessed, the things we couldn’t explain, miracle after miracle, yet he couldn’t have done any of them if he wasn’t truly God’s Son. Not only satisfying people’s bodies with such meagre portions, the five loaves and two fishes, but curing their ailments, restoring their dignity, giving them another chance in life.

And those whom he literally did give them another chance to live, raising the widow’s son and Jairus’ daughter, and his dear friend Lazarus. I remember Martha, so annoyed that we were delayed, yet still hoping for the impossible, and sweet Mary, whose tears moved him and all us to tears. His breathing life back into them all to show God’s glory, but where is His glory now?

So many people whose lives have been turned around simply because they believed in him. A man who broke the rules to show us what was really important and all I could do at the end was to deny I even knew him. Such shame I will carry deep in my heart all the days that I have left to me.

Indeed, this weight of sorrow bears me down, yet it is nothing compared to the agony he must have suffered. John, with the assurance of youth, was brave enough to be with him at the last and has told us of the cruel way that they treated him. His head already bleeding from the crudely fashioned crown of thorns, they made him carry is own cross, the sheer weight of it too much, that it caused him to stumble and a complete stranger from the coastal town of Cyrene was made to help him. How ironic that it was my namesake that did what I should have been brave enough to do.

And then the taunts and jeers; the deep sorrow of the women and the unconscionable behaviour of the guards, gambling for his clothes. Yet, all who witnessed it to the very end say that his thoughts were for others, asking that they be forgiven, with his talk of paradise and concern for others future well-being.

This human life, so precious to us, that we cling to it as if there is nothing else that matters, yet His has been taken away. Did he feel that he had been abandoned? Forsaken, by his friends, by God himself? Even the one who betrayed us all, Judas, is dead. His heart and mind so full of despair and darkness that he couldn’t bear what he had done.

And when the end came, the sheer dark void of the moment, the world plunged into night as the light of the world was extinguished by those whose power is fickle and fleeting. Surely, theirs is not to be the triumph.

As he died, so the earth trembled and shook so hard that it tore not only the temple curtain in two, but each of our hearts. We will wait until it settles again and use the tools he has given us to try and tell the world what he lived to show us. That we must turn once more to God, to trust in his goodness and mercy and live lives that reflect his love for us, for each other and for Him.  

His body is now sealed in the cold of the tomb and no doubt the women will honour it once the Sabbath is over. But our greatest gift will be to keep his memory alive. For there can be no more talk of abandonment. Our work is just beginning.

When they ask, ‘Where were you the day that Jesus died?’ What am I going to tell them?

Amen