First Reading: Ephesians 3: 20-21 (KJV)
Now unto God that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto God be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.
The Gospel: Luke 24:13-35 (The Message)
That same day two of them were walking to the village Emmaus, about seven miles out of Jerusalem. They were deep in conversation, going over all these things that had happened. In the middle of their talk and questions, Jesus came up and walked along with them. But they were not able to recognize who he was. He asked, "What's this you're discussing so intently as you walk along?" They just stood there, long-faced, like they had lost their best friend. Then one of them, his name was Cleopas, said, "Are you the only one in Jerusalem who hasn't heard what's happened during the last few days?" He said, "What has happened?"
They said, "The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene. He was a man of God, a prophet, dynamic in work and word, blessed by both God and all the people. Then our high priests and leaders betrayed him, got him sentenced to death, and crucified him. And we had our hopes up that he was the One, the One about to deliver Israel. And it is now the third day since it happened. But now some of our women have completely confused us. Early this morning they were at the tomb and couldn't find his body. They came back with the story that they had seen a vision of angels who said he was alive. Some of our friends went off to the tomb to check and found it empty just as the women said, but they didn't see Jesus." Then he said to them, "So thick-headed! So slow-hearted! Why can't you simply believe all that the prophets said? Don't you see that these things had to happen, that the Messiah had to suffer and only then enter into his glory?" Then he started at the beginning, with the Books of Moses, and went on through all the Prophets, pointing out everything in the Scriptures that referred to him.
They came to the edge of the village where they were headed. He acted as if he were going on but they pressed him: "Stay and have supper with us. It's nearly evening; the day is done." So he went in with them. And here is what happened: He sat down at the table with them. Taking the bread, he blessed and broke and gave it to them. At that moment, open-eyed, wide-eyed, they recognized him. And then he disappeared.
Back and forth they talked. "Didn't we feel on fire as he conversed with us on the road, as he opened up the Scriptures for us?" They didn't waste a minute. They were up and on their way back to Jerusalem. They found the Eleven and their friends gathered together, talking away: "It's really happened! The Master has been raised up—Simon saw him!"
Then the two went over everything that happened on the road and how they recognized him.
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God, creator and sustainer of us all, walk beside us on these roads of life. Open our eyes to know that you are there and our ears to hear your words of challenge and peace. In the name of the one who walks before us, we pray. Amen
“Now unto God that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, unto God be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.” Welcome to a summer of exceeding abundance at Open Circle MCC. God has spoken to me in mighty ways in the last week as I have meditated on our scripture passages. We are right at the edge of summer—the hot weather tells us so and the rains, hopefully, will soon come. But the spiritual rain is present with us already and with it come blessings far beyond what we can even imagine. And so we enter a summer of exceeding abundance.
Both of our scripture passages today are about the same phenomenon. In the letter to Ephesians, Paul gives thanks and praise to the God who is able to do far beyond our wildest expectations by the power that works in and through us—catch hold of that for a moment as we look at the story of our weary travelers headed to Emmaus.
There are several interesting facts about this story. One, we have no idea of why they are going to Emmaus and, two, Emmaus has never been identified as a real town. We only know that it is 7 miles outside of Jerusalem—a long way to walk indeed. We only know the name of one of these travelers and many scholars suggest that the other traveler may well have been a woman—un-named because her presence would not have been valued enough to include her name. But, nevertheless, the two are walking on Sunday evening. And they are sad and dejected, hopeless and tired. They are leaving Jerusalem after the longest weekend of their lives with no real answers. And suddenly, there are three.
But we, the audience, are the only ones who know this is Jesus. Cleopas and his friend or wife, have no clue. We don’t know if they even had that vague “I must know you from somewhere feeling”, but we do know that they didn’t recognize him. Jesus asks them why they are so sad. They look at him in amazement, probably in amazement that there was anyone left in their little world who did not know that the death of Jesus of Nazareth, once thought to be a great preacher, teacher, and savior, had dashed all their hopes, snuffed out all the fires of excitement and passion that he had started in the last three years. They tell him about the stories of the women, which rather than giving them hope seem to have confused and frustrated them even further. Jesus, still an unknown stranger to them, responds, “Silly fools, don’t you understand that all these things had to happen in order for the story to be complete—for this Jesus to enter into his glory?” Then, and remember 7 miles is a long way on foot, he “started at the beginning, with the Books of Moses, and went on through all the Prophets, pointing out everything in the Scriptures that referred to him”. These two friends certainly got more than they bargained for from this stranger—still, however, they do not know who is walking along beside them. They cannot see, their eyes, and, more importantly, their hearts, do not yet recognize him.
Finally, when it is late, they reach their home and invite him in to eat. He accepts, almost reluctantly, and then a strange thing happens. As they sit to eat, he becomes the host—breaking and blessing the bread—and giving it to them. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, it comes to them who he is, and just like that—he is gone. Perhaps the déjà-vu of all the other meals they had eaten with him—that time when the 5,000 ate from just a few loaves and fishes, and just a few days ago, when they gathered for the Passover meal—perhaps it was those memories that illuminate their dark minds, shedding enough light for them to get it. And they asked themselves—“surely something convinced us it was him all along. We couldn’t have been that dense. Surely we knew!” But, in reality, they didn’t.
And we, the church, are in a similar position to these two weary folks walking to Emmaus. We weren’t there on Easter morning—not really, and we have not seen the risen Lord with our own eyes—that is, until the bread is broken, the cup is shared and suddenly we know! We know that we are in the presence of this same Jesus, sent by God, our Creator and Sustainer, who waits for us to acknowledge that we know in whose presence we walk. And with this gift comes the knowledge that knocks us to our knees—that this same God, who works in and through us, is able to give us, creations of God, exceedingly abundantly more than we could ask or think—not just more—exceedingly abundantly more than we can ask or think.
And here we are, ready to walk along with Jesus, who wants to show us this exceeding abundance—who waits for our eyes to be open in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup—waits for us to recognize the many gifts that we have been given and will be given in the days to come. This is a church of exceeding abundance—and I think sometimes we forget—we get used to all that God is doing in our lives, personal and communal, and we forget. Or we get lost in the day to day upsets or trials that threaten to rock our sometimes tentative hold on the wonder of the day. But in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup, we remember who we are and whose we are. And this is the gift we are given today—no matter our joy or sorrow, our excitement or complacence, Jesus waits for us to open our spiritual eyes and see.
Now let me be the first to admit that it is harder for some of us to see than others. Some of us have erected thicker walls, have accumulated greater doubts. And I, for one, am glad, that there are those folks among us, who believe in our stead, who bridge the gap for us—while the rest of us catch up to the knowledge that this exceeding abundance waits for us. Perhaps, that is their gift to us—their ability to believe, not just for themselves, but for all of us. Every great Christian movement has had its share of those incredibly gifted folks—those folks who give buoyancy to the rest of us as we are coming to the surface to the knowledge of the abundance waiting for us. And, given the opportunity, I know most of you could name some of those very folks who walk among us. And we are grateful.
But Jesus waits to lead us all to that abundance, which far exceeds our ability to even comprehend what it might look like or calculate where it might take us. And so, we set forth, not just to chart a course for the future of our lives and the life of this church; we set forth to enter into that exceeding abundance that awaits us all. Jesus walked beside those weary travelers—all day he walked, and not once did they recognize the special gift they had been given—that Jesus could have chosen anyone, anywhere to spend his afternoon with, and he chose them. Let us not hold on to our blindness, failing to see that God could have blessed any group of people, in any location the way we have been blessed
as God’s people. This is the gift that we have, right in front of us—that we have what it takes to recognize and celebrate the working of God in our midst.
While I have tried not to, I have lost count of the number of you who have told me that this church has become for you what you never expected a church to be—this family, this dear group of people who gather each and every week—encouraging each other, challenging each other, loving each other. We must not allow ourselves to become, like those weary walkers to Emmaus, tired and unsure of our future. This great gift is already ours—Jesus has risen—and calls us to a place of exceeding abundance. We walk into that place ready to receive all that God has planned, knowing that never in our wildest dreams could we predict what God has in store. “Unto God be glory in the church—and in THIS church—by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end.” Amen and Amen.
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