Sunday, April 30, 2017

The Third Sunday of Easter [Year A] - April 30, 2017 (Luke 24:13-35)

I am unable to read or hear this story where Jesus appears as a stranger to his disciples as they make their way to Emmaus without thinking of that TV show “Undercover Boss.” In case you haven’t seen it, “Undercover Boss” is a reality show on CBS prime time wherein a CEO or some other high-level corporate exec leaves the office for a few days and secretly takes some low-level job within his or her company to see how things are really being run and, more importantly, what their employees really think of them. What’s critical to the show’s concept is that the executives who go undercover not be recognized by those employees that they encounter. A make-up and costume crew comes in to totally transform the boss and then hidden cameras follow him or her around as they do everyday things like make tacos or run amusement park rides.

I’m not a big watcher of television, but I’ve seen the program a few times, and it’ll draw you in. It’s won a few Emmy’s, and it’s in its seventh season. It’ll also make a grown man cry. Each episode culminates with the revealing of the boss’ identity, and it almost always catches the employees off-guard. They’re surprised they were able to work alongside the person who runs their company, the person who is responsible for the direction and ethos of the whole company without ever knowing it. What makes the show especially touching is that the executive is often moved to tears when he or she sees how successfully the people at the bottom actually carry the company through their dedication and work ethic.

I haven’t watched too many episodes of “Undercover Boss,” but I’ve never seen one where the boss is disappointed in how his rank and file are doing. But if the risen Jesus is an undercover boss this morning, coming unrecognized into the presence of his followers as they make their way to the village of Emmaus, we might catch a scene of disappointment. The disciples don’t seem to know what their purpose is anymore. Maybe they’re too grief-stricken to concentrate. They don’t believe the news they’ve heard. Maybe they’re suspicious of the preposterous message that the women have brought them from the tomb. Furthermore, even with all the help from the prophets and scripture, the disciples can’t understand how the crucifixion and death of Jesus fits into any kind of saving plan of God’s. Why is that? Maybe they’re still too convinced of the merits typical worldly power which is enamored with violence and domination and threats and fear. Suffering and dying doesn’t seem like the way a decent divine CEO would run things. They were looking for their Messiah to start a fight. All in all, if the business of the disciples is to have faith— if the business of Jesus’s followers is to proclaim that Jesus is risen Lord of all—then they’re not up to snuff.

The main puzzler, of course, is that they don’t immediately recognize Jesus, their boss. It’s not clear why this is, but we can assume that might have something to do with their mental state. They are obviously upset; things didn’t go the way they’d expected. At one point when the undercover Jesus asks them what they’ve been talking about, it says they actually stop walking for a minute, looking sad.

Road to Emmaus (Robert Zund)
The question is: are our eyes bound to be any more open to the presence of Christ in our midst? It’s easy to look at these guys thousands of years later and call things into question, scratching our heads and wondering how they couldn’t have noticed their very leader but are we any more observant? If it’s not sorrow or grief that preoccupies us these days it could be ambition, work, busy-ness. It’s so easy to get overcommitted these days. Sometimes I even fear that church adds to that busy-ness factor, if we’re not careful. There was a report and interviewon NPR this week about how busy-ness has become the new status symbol in the United States. It used to be people bought things in order to show off their wealth and status, but now we’re showing off how packed our schedules are, how many different things we’re doing. The report said that celebrities, for example, post on social media, and whereas they used to show off things they had, now they’re tending to boast about their lack of time.

I heard about an interesting conversation a few weeks ago in our office between a high school student and a mother who was in there taking care of a baby. The student looked at the mother and said without any prompting, “I have some advice as your child gets older. Don’t let him do too many things in high school. We’re all involved in too many things these days and we’re all exhausted.” Exhausted by our busy-ness, consumed with calendars—it’s easy to see how it would distract us from possibly noticing special things like Christ in our midst.

Road to Emmaus (John Dunne)
The extremely gracious thing about Jesus on this walk to Emmaus, however, is that he doesn’t give up on them. Jesus is not going to give up on us, even when we miss him or are too preoccupied to receive him right away. He walks right along with us. Just as he does throughout his life, he will present himself over and over again, offering his grace and mercy over and over again, so that God’s foolish, stiff-necked people will have the opportunity to receive him. As he continues on their way,  he begins with Moses and the prophets and illuminates for them how Jesus’ suffering and death had already been revealed in the Scriptures. There’s no telling how many times he had done that before, but now he does it again, patiently but still secretly giving himself in the Word.

Later we find out that as Jesus was talking with them about the Scriptures, their hearts were burning within them. When I hear that phrase I often think of embers in a campfire that have grown black and cold over the course of the night. They look lifeless and useless in the morning, but really there is still a spark of life deep within them and all they need is a bit of air to coax the warmth out of them. How often have we had that happen in worship or in prayer? We feel that we’re just a shell of ourselves, our faith has died out, but then we hear the line of a hymn or a verse from Scripture and something within us begins to burn again?

What’s interesting is that conversation alone does not reveal the undercover Savior alone. It isn’t until they share a meal and Jesus breaks the bread that their eyes are opened. Depending upon how you break it down, we have about five or six different stories involving the resurrected Jesus in the four gospels. Three of those accounts—at least half, that is—involve food. The last time the disciples had been together with Jesus as a group had also involved a meal. There is something about the basic human act of eating and sharing table fellowship with one another that tells us something about God’s nature. There is something about breaking bread as a community that makes it a way through which God chooses to reveal and share himself.

Around this table in Emmaus, once the day is ending, is where the reveal happens and the undercover Savior lets his disciples in on the secret. He does not evaluate their performance or give them a rating. He does not make any judgment on the worth and success of this resurrection enterprise as if it all rides on their shoulders. He simply offers himself to them again. That’s is where this community is going to be nurtured and re-energized for its life together and its mission in the world. As he eats in their midst and takes the bread, their eyes are opened to who he really is.

A few months ago we gathered at my grandmother’s house in North Carolina for what would be our last Sunday meal with her. At the age of 98 she was moving into an assisted living facility where she would not be able to host her family for their weekly after-church southern dinner like she had for maybe sixty or seventy years. She used to live for Sunday afternoons when her family could gather and she could feed them. As I went through the buffet line that last time, getting a dab from each dish and placing it on my plate, it suddenly dawned on me that not once had I brought something to contribute to this meal. For 43 years I’d been a guest at that table and not one time had I even thought to add something I’d made or purchased. To know my Maw Maw is to know that Sunday dinner that she loved to provide. It is to know the chocolate cake and macaroni and cheese that only she can make—because we’ve asked her for the recipe a dozen times and no one can replicate it—will be there no matter what, and that you are welcome to help yourself.

The Supper at Emmaus (Carravaggio, 1602)
Such is the meal of bread and wine for our merciful Savior Jesus Christ. Eating here is to know him, to understand what his mission is all about. Here he offers himself each Sunday, each time this community gathers around this table. Our altar care volunteers grab some bread from the grocery store on the way to church, set the table with the chalice and wine, and Jesus shows up to let us know just what he’s made of. His body is once again broken so that we each may be made whole in forgiveness. His blood is poured out so that we can be restored. To share this meal is to know who Jesus is for us and for the whole world, as the community gathered around this table grows and grows.

Martin Luther had a very unique way of explaining just how Jesus is present for us in the meal of Holy Communion. It is not because the pastor has some special ability to transform the bread and the wine. Neither is Holy Communion just a symbol of Jesus’ body and blood, as if the only way Jesus is present is through the power of our own thoughts and memories. No, Luther said that the true body and blood of Jesus is “in, with, and under” the bread and wine. There you have it: Jesus, the risen Lord, who has conquered death for us, is our “In, With, and Under”-cover Savior.

With the ordinary acts of pouring wine and breaking bread, Jesus is the “In, With, and Under”-cover host who today comes to offer you his life once again. And he says, “Come. Don’t worry about bringing anything with you. No need to contribute to this banquet. Only the offering of your own brokenness and need is all I will take.”

And his hope is that deep within you is that smoldering ember. And as you eat and drink and hear his word your hearts will once more burn within you—that once more you realize your Lord is with you—and as you get up to go back on your way and work alongside of him you will share with the world what you really think of him.

Thanks be to God!

The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr.

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