a reflection on the readings for Easter 6A: Acts 17:23-31; 1 Peter 3:13-22; John 14:15-21; by The Rev. Terri C. Pilarski
As a little girl I used to walk myself to church twice a week, once for Sunday school and then again on Tuesday for Christian formation. The rest of my immediately family had no desire to go to church and I apparently was content to walk there myself. I was born into the church; my ancestors for generations back had been active members. It was the only church I knew. This denomination had very clear ideas of who could belong and who could not. It was also a denomination that centered its entire being on the idea that its members were the only people who were going to be admitted into the kingdom of heaven. They taught that it was the one and only true church of God.
One morning in Sunday school the teacher was giving us a lesson on this rule. Apparently, according to this teacher and this church, God made this rule; God decided that this Church was the one and true expression of faithfulness and the only way to salvation. But, even as a young girl I had an active prayer life and knew God’s presence in my life. So. When the teacher expounded on this lesson I couldn’t resist the urge to raise my hand and ask a question to the contrary. “What,” I asked, “Happens to the little babies in Africa who have never heard of this church?” Now, I’m fairly certain that I chose Africa because it was the continent furthest away from my small town and filled with people who probably had no idea our church even existed. I had no idea, really of what had transpired in Africa over the last 300 years. But clearly I thought God was big enough, expansive enough, to not limit people from heaven if they’d never even heard of the possibility of salvation through this church. The teacher however responded, “That’s why we need missionaries, to go over and convert these people and save them.”
I don’t know why it is that random conversations stick with me. I don’t know why I remember this particular conversation so well, although I think the Holy Spirit has something to do with it. I remember the classroom, and the kids, and the teacher. No, not their names, per se, but that we were sitting in a circle facing the teacher, that most of the kids were giggly and throwing spit wads, but that I was listening and thinking, and disagreeing with the teaching of my church. It simply did not fit my experience of God. And I’ve been thinking about it ever since, some 40 years later.
Eventually I left that church and went on an exploration of faith. I wasn’t looking for God; rather I was looking for a means to worship God in community. I was looking for a church that could hold my expansive experience of God and help shape and form me in my life of faith.
In our reading from Acts Paul is standing in front of a crowd at the Areopagus, where he has been brought to defend his teachings. He faces a crowd of Romans steeped in another belief system, a people who are angry and skeptical of his teachings. First he honors the beliefs of the people before him saying, “I see how extremely religious you are in every way.” He even speaks of their altar to an unknown god. He then clarifies the particular points that believers of his Christian faith adhere too which differ from their beliefs. He says: there is God who is known by the people; This God created all that is, including humanity; In this God we live and move and have our being; and This God cannot be found in gold or silver or stone, there is no image that can fully express who this God is, for this God is beyond the imagination of mortals.
1 Peter picks up on this theme, although not explicitly. I am not sure what the author of 1 Peter intended in the writing of this Epistle. It is tragic that this Epistle has been used by the church to encourage abuse and violence. Over the centuries Christians have used portions of 1 Peter to argue for slavery and for the abuse of slaves at the hands of their owners. It has also been used to argue for domestic abuse telling wives to silently tolerate abusive husbands. Like I said, I’m not sure what the author intended but I do know that modern commentators on the Bible are finding new insight into this reading that reframes the suffering. From this perspective it does not support abuse nor does it endorse one human being inflicting violence on another. It says instead that when we defend our faith with integrity we will face skepticism and hostility. According to 1 Peter defending our faith means to live with gentleness, reverence, and integrity - these are the qualities that 1 Peter defines as conveying the nature of God. This passage reminds us to commit ourselves to God by living as Christ teaches us – not by hiding our faith but living it in a public way. Living our faith in a public way means that the grace of God that is working within us is public and obvious to others.
In our gospel reading we learn more about what it means to commit ourselves to God and to live as Christ teaches us. This passage begins and ends with this point – we are to love. Jesus gives us only one commandment, and we hear it over and over – we are to love God, love our selves, and love others. We learn this first from Jesus himself. Later when Jesus has departed this world and ascended to heaven, Jesus leaves with us the Holy Spirit, who continues to teach us about love. The Holy Spirit is that expression of God that remains active in the world and enables us to love as God loves – in an expansive, generous way.
I do think that my Sunday school teacher was on to something important. We do need missionaries in this world. But not the way she and the church of my childhood intended; not missionaries who proclaim a narrow view of salvation and an exclusive view of who God will embrace. And we don’t need missionaries just in Africa. We need missionaries everywhere, missionaries who are able and willing to live lives of faith. We need missionaries who are willing and able to love people just as they are. We need missionaries who meet people wherever they are in their lives and love them. Living as Christ has taught us enables a grace-filled love of God to pour through us. This grace-filled love of God will change lives. We need missionaries who love the broken people and shattered pieces of this world. We need missionaries that move us out and away from violence into the gentleness of God. We need missionaries with an expansive vision of God’s love; a vision that lives with open arms rather than tight fists. Each of us, when we live our lives with gentleness and reverence, become missionaries for God. But as Christian missionaries for God we are also called to live lives of integrity and that means that we love as Christ loves; for it is in this way that Christ will be in us and we will be in him. When Christ is in us and we are in Christ we are close to understanding the nature of God. Still, I think it is helpful to remember, as Paul says, that ultimately God is beyond the imagination of mortals. Let’s not get stuck on, or limited by, some image of who we think God is. Instead let’s embrace God as Jesus did, let us embrace self as Jesus did, let us embrace others as Jesus did, as visions of love.
Religious and Spiritual
Monday, April 28, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Easter 4: The Good Shepherd
One day a rabbi, in a frenzy of religious passion, rushed in before the ark, fell to his knees, and started beating his chest, crying,
“I’m nobody! I’m nobody!”
The cantor of the synagogue, impressed by this example of spiritual humility, joined the rabbi on his knees.
“I’m nobody! I’m nobody!”
The custodian, watching from the corner, couldn’t restrain himself, either. He joined the other two on his knees calling out,
“I’m nobody! I’m nobody!”
At which point the rabbi, nudging the cantor with his elbow, pointed at the custodian and said,
“Look who thinks he’s nobody!”
(“How Can I Help” by Ram Dass & Paul Gorman).
When was the last time you met someone who was sincerely humble? Humility is a rare quality these days. We live in world of people who feel entitled and self important. We are perhaps the most individualistic culture in all of human history. The advancements in the technology of communication and transportation have, on the one hand, made the world smaller and brought a global perspective to our every day lives. On the other hand these same advancements have heightened our sense of disconnect.
One of my primary complaints about Chicago is the way people drive. On the highway or on a local street, individual drivers maneuver the road as if they are the only ones who are supposed to be there. The rest of us are just in the way, going too slow. It was common for cars to speed up behind another, swerve around hastily to pass, and then cut in front with barely inches to spare, just to make the point –
you are driving too slow for ME!
Our reading today of the Good Shepherd and the sheep calls us to think about humility as a desired quality. Being humble means that we will be willing to really listen because we are able to still our inner voices that want to rise up and speak. And, we are able to set aside enough of our ego,slow down enough our desire to push ahead,able to understand that it is ok to follow.
Jesus the Good Shepherd, in his humility shows us how to do this – Jesus who listens to God and follows God, and we - who are to do the same…
In many ways we are quite familiar with the image of the Good Shepherd. We know it as another way of describing Jesus and his relationship to us. But despite the familiarity of this image our scripture contains only a few citations of the Shepherd. We hear one example in Psalm 23.
Today is the traditional Good Shepherd Sunday, and it comes every year four Sunday’s after Easter Day with the Good Shepherd readings from John..
In year A we get today’s portion of the Gospel of John with the Good Shepherd/Christ as the gate, the shepherd who lays down in the opening. The way in and out is through the body of Christ.
In year B we get the next portion of this reading from John, the Good Shepherd who owns the flock is contrasted with the hired hand who only cares for self and not for sheep.
And in year C the voice, the word, of the shepherd is emphasized.
All of these point us to understand that the shepherd image is complex and that the shepherd knows us in deep and intimate ways. It also reminds us that we are the Body of Christ in the world today. In particular we are called to think first about the whole body and not just one of the parts.
The image of Christ lying down in the opening, his body being the gate through which life goes in and life goes out, reminds us that God’s love has been poured into the body of Christ and through Christ God’s love is poured out for us.
As the ongoing living body of Christ in this world we are to do likewise – be the means through which God’s love comes in to this world and is poured out for all.
About thirty years ago a young intern, as part of her work, was traveling around in teams, examining patients. She would notice the look in patient’s eyes as the team entered the room: intimidated, apprehensive, feeling like case studies of various illnesses.
One patient struck this intern in a particular way. The intern claims that this patient may have changed her life forever. The patient had some complex set of ailments; one condition on top of another, any of which, and certainly the combination of them, should have brought about his death. But he was still alive.
The interns, on their rotation, came to check him out because he was such a mystery. This intern had the feeling, every time they met, that the patient looked right through her. Right through them all.
He’d say, “Hey docs!” when they’d walk in. He always spoke in an amused tone of voice.
One night this patient became seriously ill and landed in the ICU. The intern went to visit. Oh, he looked real bad. But still he was alert. As the intern entered the room the patient shrugged his shoulders, like he was expecting her. Then the patient laughed and said, half as a question, and half as a remark,
“Who are you?!”
The intern started to answer, “I’m Doctor…” and then she went cold.
She says it was hard to describe but there were all kinds of answers going through her head. And they all seemed true, or at least more or less true. “Yeah,” she thought, “I’m this, and I’m that…and also…but not just….and that’s not the whole picture, the whole picture is….”
She says that her thought process must have shown on her face because the patient said, “Nice to meet you.” With perfect timing.
She and the patient talked awhile about this and that, nothing really. Then she asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?” He said, “No, I’m fine. Thank you very much, Doctor….” And he paused for her name, which she supplied this time and he grinned.
He died a few days later. But this doctor still carries in her heart that night and that conversation with this patient.
“Who are you?”
For years she had trained as a physician and she almost got lost in the self-importance of it. But this patient took away her degree and then gave it back to her in a new way by reminding her that she is a doctor and also so much more.
We all have a tendency to limit and contain how we know ourselves and the world around us. We have a tendency to live in the most narrow of ways rather in the most abundant of ways. Or we blow ourselves up into something grandiose like the entitlement that comes out when some people drive cars. That grandiosity is narrow too, because it can’t see beyond the self-imposed bigness of the self.
Jesus sees us for who we are. He is our shepherd and he calls out to us,
be gentle,
be generous,
live abundantly.
You see, even as Jesus is here for us, each and every one of us as the Psalm proclaims, we need to be careful not to make too personal a claim on Jesus as our own, one and own, Jesus. We need to be careful not limit who Jesus is or how Jesus manifests as the Good Shepherd. We need to imagine the Good Shepherd in the most expansive ways.
How He comes to protect us from the ways of this world that would call us away from God. How He comes and stands in the midst of us and walks with us. How He comes and offers us nourishment, true bread and true wine. How He comes and lays down in the opening and becomes the gate that keeps us safe: from the distractions of this world, from the pulls of this world that tell us one person is great and another is not, keeps us safe from our own arrogant nature by being humble enough to live the life of a human, die a horrible death, and still love us.
The Lord is my shepherd indeed.
Psalm 23, along with our Gospel reading, points to an abundantly generous understanding of God in Christ and Christ as the shepherd whose presence is always near.
This abiding presence of God leads us, restores us, names us, walks with us, attends to our darkest nights and celebrates our brightest days. The graciousness of God sustains us, feeds us, protects us, loves us.
In this radical way God comes to us and asks,
“Who are you?”
It’s a rhetorical….for of course God knows, it us who have to remember.
Let us remember who we are and whose we are, loving God, loving self, and loving others in the most lavish and magnanimous of ways.
“I’m nobody! I’m nobody!”
The cantor of the synagogue, impressed by this example of spiritual humility, joined the rabbi on his knees.
“I’m nobody! I’m nobody!”
The custodian, watching from the corner, couldn’t restrain himself, either. He joined the other two on his knees calling out,
“I’m nobody! I’m nobody!”
At which point the rabbi, nudging the cantor with his elbow, pointed at the custodian and said,
“Look who thinks he’s nobody!”
(“How Can I Help” by Ram Dass & Paul Gorman).
When was the last time you met someone who was sincerely humble? Humility is a rare quality these days. We live in world of people who feel entitled and self important. We are perhaps the most individualistic culture in all of human history. The advancements in the technology of communication and transportation have, on the one hand, made the world smaller and brought a global perspective to our every day lives. On the other hand these same advancements have heightened our sense of disconnect.
One of my primary complaints about Chicago is the way people drive. On the highway or on a local street, individual drivers maneuver the road as if they are the only ones who are supposed to be there. The rest of us are just in the way, going too slow. It was common for cars to speed up behind another, swerve around hastily to pass, and then cut in front with barely inches to spare, just to make the point –
you are driving too slow for ME!
Our reading today of the Good Shepherd and the sheep calls us to think about humility as a desired quality. Being humble means that we will be willing to really listen because we are able to still our inner voices that want to rise up and speak. And, we are able to set aside enough of our ego,slow down enough our desire to push ahead,able to understand that it is ok to follow.
Jesus the Good Shepherd, in his humility shows us how to do this – Jesus who listens to God and follows God, and we - who are to do the same…
In many ways we are quite familiar with the image of the Good Shepherd. We know it as another way of describing Jesus and his relationship to us. But despite the familiarity of this image our scripture contains only a few citations of the Shepherd. We hear one example in Psalm 23.
Today is the traditional Good Shepherd Sunday, and it comes every year four Sunday’s after Easter Day with the Good Shepherd readings from John..
In year A we get today’s portion of the Gospel of John with the Good Shepherd/Christ as the gate, the shepherd who lays down in the opening. The way in and out is through the body of Christ.
In year B we get the next portion of this reading from John, the Good Shepherd who owns the flock is contrasted with the hired hand who only cares for self and not for sheep.
And in year C the voice, the word, of the shepherd is emphasized.
All of these point us to understand that the shepherd image is complex and that the shepherd knows us in deep and intimate ways. It also reminds us that we are the Body of Christ in the world today. In particular we are called to think first about the whole body and not just one of the parts.
The image of Christ lying down in the opening, his body being the gate through which life goes in and life goes out, reminds us that God’s love has been poured into the body of Christ and through Christ God’s love is poured out for us.
As the ongoing living body of Christ in this world we are to do likewise – be the means through which God’s love comes in to this world and is poured out for all.
About thirty years ago a young intern, as part of her work, was traveling around in teams, examining patients. She would notice the look in patient’s eyes as the team entered the room: intimidated, apprehensive, feeling like case studies of various illnesses.
One patient struck this intern in a particular way. The intern claims that this patient may have changed her life forever. The patient had some complex set of ailments; one condition on top of another, any of which, and certainly the combination of them, should have brought about his death. But he was still alive.
The interns, on their rotation, came to check him out because he was such a mystery. This intern had the feeling, every time they met, that the patient looked right through her. Right through them all.
He’d say, “Hey docs!” when they’d walk in. He always spoke in an amused tone of voice.
One night this patient became seriously ill and landed in the ICU. The intern went to visit. Oh, he looked real bad. But still he was alert. As the intern entered the room the patient shrugged his shoulders, like he was expecting her. Then the patient laughed and said, half as a question, and half as a remark,
“Who are you?!”
The intern started to answer, “I’m Doctor…” and then she went cold.
She says it was hard to describe but there were all kinds of answers going through her head. And they all seemed true, or at least more or less true. “Yeah,” she thought, “I’m this, and I’m that…and also…but not just….and that’s not the whole picture, the whole picture is….”
She says that her thought process must have shown on her face because the patient said, “Nice to meet you.” With perfect timing.
She and the patient talked awhile about this and that, nothing really. Then she asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?” He said, “No, I’m fine. Thank you very much, Doctor….” And he paused for her name, which she supplied this time and he grinned.
He died a few days later. But this doctor still carries in her heart that night and that conversation with this patient.
“Who are you?”
For years she had trained as a physician and she almost got lost in the self-importance of it. But this patient took away her degree and then gave it back to her in a new way by reminding her that she is a doctor and also so much more.
We all have a tendency to limit and contain how we know ourselves and the world around us. We have a tendency to live in the most narrow of ways rather in the most abundant of ways. Or we blow ourselves up into something grandiose like the entitlement that comes out when some people drive cars. That grandiosity is narrow too, because it can’t see beyond the self-imposed bigness of the self.
Jesus sees us for who we are. He is our shepherd and he calls out to us,
be gentle,
be generous,
live abundantly.
You see, even as Jesus is here for us, each and every one of us as the Psalm proclaims, we need to be careful not to make too personal a claim on Jesus as our own, one and own, Jesus. We need to be careful not limit who Jesus is or how Jesus manifests as the Good Shepherd. We need to imagine the Good Shepherd in the most expansive ways.
How He comes to protect us from the ways of this world that would call us away from God. How He comes and stands in the midst of us and walks with us. How He comes and offers us nourishment, true bread and true wine. How He comes and lays down in the opening and becomes the gate that keeps us safe: from the distractions of this world, from the pulls of this world that tell us one person is great and another is not, keeps us safe from our own arrogant nature by being humble enough to live the life of a human, die a horrible death, and still love us.
The Lord is my shepherd indeed.
Psalm 23, along with our Gospel reading, points to an abundantly generous understanding of God in Christ and Christ as the shepherd whose presence is always near.
This abiding presence of God leads us, restores us, names us, walks with us, attends to our darkest nights and celebrates our brightest days. The graciousness of God sustains us, feeds us, protects us, loves us.
In this radical way God comes to us and asks,
“Who are you?”
It’s a rhetorical….for of course God knows, it us who have to remember.
Let us remember who we are and whose we are, loving God, loving self, and loving others in the most lavish and magnanimous of ways.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Easter 3
About twenty years ago I was an avid student of Yoga. For a number of years I would walk from my grueling day job to a studio in Lincoln Park, a neighborhood of Chicago. There I would unwind from the intense job of ordering furniture and fabric and trying to satisfy the demands of clients who wanted their sofa, now,not three weeks from now. Who cares if there was a back order, call the manufacturer and get it for me now.
Yes. I worked for people who were used to getting what they wanted when they wanted it. And so I began to study yoga as a way for me to process and decompress from the stress of my job. I studied yoga for about nine years and through two pregnancies. It taught me a lot about my body and the importance of movement.
For me, yoga is both a physical discipline and a spiritual discipline. Physical because it stretches and strengthens my muscles; physical because it reduces my stress. Spiritual because it gives me a way to set aside my stress and relax. Spiritual because it taught me, and continues to remind me, to let go of unhealthy thought patterns. Spiritual because it provides a quiet space for prayer. Spiritual because it taught me and continues to help me to be still and listen.
In our Gospel reading this morning we encounter two people as they walk. They have clearly experienced some stress in their lives,some loss which has left them grieving. They are worn and tired. It had been a difficult time; the death of Jesus was not what they expected. And so they are also depressed and discouraged. This reading suggests that the walking, moving, is helping them.
As they walk along they talk to each other,and then to the third person who joins them. The conversation moves from the sad events of Jesus’ death to their amazement and confusion over the stories that Jesus is alive again. They can hardly believe it possible.
Movement in this Gospel reading occurs on several layers at the same time. So, for example, there is the layer of physical movement. On the physical layer they are walking in order to get from one place to another. And the walking affords them the opportunity to reflect on and discuss the tragedy they have just witnessed.
Physical movement in this case is both necessary and healing.
Then there is the spiritual movement of this Gospel story. It too happens on several layers, but most particularly in the opportunity the two friends have to talk about the events they have witnessed.
So, the talking is both physical and spiritual movement.
There, there is the mystery of the third person who joins them on the walk, with whom they share their story. That too, helps them feel a little better – it’s not just two people talking about something that happened, but they are sharing it with another.
Isn’t that the way it often works? When we are able to share our stories with others
we somehow feel better. It can be healing just to know that some one else understands.
The act of telling our story and of being heard is healing.
So I’m not just talking about movement as something we do with our bodies rather I’m suggesting that the movement in this reading is holistic, it happens in a number of ways and offers us a deep profound, all encompassing understanding of what it means to know Christ in our lives.
As the walk is coming to an end another thing happens. The two, who have shared their story with the third, arrive at their destination. The third prepares to travel on, but the two do an amazing thing. They invite their new friend in for supper. And so the third layer of movement in this reading is divine, and comes from extending hospitality.
When we offer hospitality to others there is movement for us as well.
I think that here is where we learn the deepest lesson of this Gospel, that in offering hospitality to the stranger we just might be welcoming Jesus in.
For it is in the midst of this meal that the two come to recognize just who it was they were walking with all along.
A few weeks ago on Easter Day I spoke about the resurrection and how Jesus appeared to the disciples as one who was both dead and alive, as one who carried with him the scars,the marks of his death even in his new life.
And so in this new life Jesus began to look different.
A holistic movement had occurred in him.
I don’t think the way Jesus looked in the resurrection changed him in way the same way that I looked different when my hair was longer and then when I cut it. I know that a lot of you did not recognize me those first few days after it was cut. That sort of thing is common for us, we do something to change our appearance and people fail to recognize us.
But I think Jesus was not so much different on the outside, because he still carried the scars and wounds. Rather Jesus was different on the inside. The resurrection transformed him into a new life, changed him from the inside out, and therefore changed the way he looked to people, even those who knew him well.
Mary, whom some say was the disciple who knew him best, not even Mary recognized him. So perhaps it is not surprising that these two did not recognize him either. And, I suggest that there are plenty of times when we do not recognize Jesus in our presence either….
So this idea of movement from this reading happens on several layers all at once and points us to the process of transformation we find in our life in Christ.
This story, the road to Emmaus, is perhaps the best known and well loved story of transformation in our Gospels. It stands to remind us of what happens when we encounter Jesus in our lives. It represents for us the movement that comes when we encounter the Holy Spirit. It points us to recognize that we too are changed inside by the grace of God in our lives.
As if to place an exclamation point on this process of transformation our reading from Acts reminds us that life is a journey. A journey of following the God who calls us from afar. It reminds us that when we wander off God invites us back onto the path, back into the journey, we are invited to repent and return to God.
Most of you probably know that during the season of Easter we do not say a confession nor does the priest offer absolution. This is because during the season of Lent we are invited into a time of reflection, self-examination, and repentance.
The Easter season then is the time to rejoice in the new life we have been given by God. Easter reminds us that God’s judgment is aimed at healing and restoring us to wholeness, that God desires reconciliation for all.
The process to reconciliation, healing, and wholeness includes the physical, emotional, psychological and spiritual aspects of our being…but is also primarily a journey with the divine.
Walking with God can be a difficult journey through rough and rugged terrain, through times of feeling afraid, lost, abandoned, by the very God we seek
The road to Emmaus leads us to recognize the importance of movement, of continuing to move through the challenges and difficulties of life. To continue on even in our darkest days, days when we feel like God has left us and Jesus is no where to be found. To somehow continue to put one foot in front of the other and walk.
Walk in faith that the journey is leading us into the presence of Christ. Trusting that one day we will see Christ face to face. Perhaps Christ will come to you in a friend or a loved one or perhaps you will see Christ in that stranger who meets you on the road.
Yes. I worked for people who were used to getting what they wanted when they wanted it. And so I began to study yoga as a way for me to process and decompress from the stress of my job. I studied yoga for about nine years and through two pregnancies. It taught me a lot about my body and the importance of movement.
For me, yoga is both a physical discipline and a spiritual discipline. Physical because it stretches and strengthens my muscles; physical because it reduces my stress. Spiritual because it gives me a way to set aside my stress and relax. Spiritual because it taught me, and continues to remind me, to let go of unhealthy thought patterns. Spiritual because it provides a quiet space for prayer. Spiritual because it taught me and continues to help me to be still and listen.
In our Gospel reading this morning we encounter two people as they walk. They have clearly experienced some stress in their lives,some loss which has left them grieving. They are worn and tired. It had been a difficult time; the death of Jesus was not what they expected. And so they are also depressed and discouraged. This reading suggests that the walking, moving, is helping them.
As they walk along they talk to each other,and then to the third person who joins them. The conversation moves from the sad events of Jesus’ death to their amazement and confusion over the stories that Jesus is alive again. They can hardly believe it possible.
Movement in this Gospel reading occurs on several layers at the same time. So, for example, there is the layer of physical movement. On the physical layer they are walking in order to get from one place to another. And the walking affords them the opportunity to reflect on and discuss the tragedy they have just witnessed.
Physical movement in this case is both necessary and healing.
Then there is the spiritual movement of this Gospel story. It too happens on several layers, but most particularly in the opportunity the two friends have to talk about the events they have witnessed.
So, the talking is both physical and spiritual movement.
There, there is the mystery of the third person who joins them on the walk, with whom they share their story. That too, helps them feel a little better – it’s not just two people talking about something that happened, but they are sharing it with another.
Isn’t that the way it often works? When we are able to share our stories with others
we somehow feel better. It can be healing just to know that some one else understands.
The act of telling our story and of being heard is healing.
So I’m not just talking about movement as something we do with our bodies rather I’m suggesting that the movement in this reading is holistic, it happens in a number of ways and offers us a deep profound, all encompassing understanding of what it means to know Christ in our lives.
As the walk is coming to an end another thing happens. The two, who have shared their story with the third, arrive at their destination. The third prepares to travel on, but the two do an amazing thing. They invite their new friend in for supper. And so the third layer of movement in this reading is divine, and comes from extending hospitality.
When we offer hospitality to others there is movement for us as well.
I think that here is where we learn the deepest lesson of this Gospel, that in offering hospitality to the stranger we just might be welcoming Jesus in.
For it is in the midst of this meal that the two come to recognize just who it was they were walking with all along.
A few weeks ago on Easter Day I spoke about the resurrection and how Jesus appeared to the disciples as one who was both dead and alive, as one who carried with him the scars,the marks of his death even in his new life.
And so in this new life Jesus began to look different.
A holistic movement had occurred in him.
I don’t think the way Jesus looked in the resurrection changed him in way the same way that I looked different when my hair was longer and then when I cut it. I know that a lot of you did not recognize me those first few days after it was cut. That sort of thing is common for us, we do something to change our appearance and people fail to recognize us.
But I think Jesus was not so much different on the outside, because he still carried the scars and wounds. Rather Jesus was different on the inside. The resurrection transformed him into a new life, changed him from the inside out, and therefore changed the way he looked to people, even those who knew him well.
Mary, whom some say was the disciple who knew him best, not even Mary recognized him. So perhaps it is not surprising that these two did not recognize him either. And, I suggest that there are plenty of times when we do not recognize Jesus in our presence either….
So this idea of movement from this reading happens on several layers all at once and points us to the process of transformation we find in our life in Christ.
This story, the road to Emmaus, is perhaps the best known and well loved story of transformation in our Gospels. It stands to remind us of what happens when we encounter Jesus in our lives. It represents for us the movement that comes when we encounter the Holy Spirit. It points us to recognize that we too are changed inside by the grace of God in our lives.
As if to place an exclamation point on this process of transformation our reading from Acts reminds us that life is a journey. A journey of following the God who calls us from afar. It reminds us that when we wander off God invites us back onto the path, back into the journey, we are invited to repent and return to God.
Most of you probably know that during the season of Easter we do not say a confession nor does the priest offer absolution. This is because during the season of Lent we are invited into a time of reflection, self-examination, and repentance.
The Easter season then is the time to rejoice in the new life we have been given by God. Easter reminds us that God’s judgment is aimed at healing and restoring us to wholeness, that God desires reconciliation for all.
The process to reconciliation, healing, and wholeness includes the physical, emotional, psychological and spiritual aspects of our being…but is also primarily a journey with the divine.
Walking with God can be a difficult journey through rough and rugged terrain, through times of feeling afraid, lost, abandoned, by the very God we seek
The road to Emmaus leads us to recognize the importance of movement, of continuing to move through the challenges and difficulties of life. To continue on even in our darkest days, days when we feel like God has left us and Jesus is no where to be found. To somehow continue to put one foot in front of the other and walk.
Walk in faith that the journey is leading us into the presence of Christ. Trusting that one day we will see Christ face to face. Perhaps Christ will come to you in a friend or a loved one or perhaps you will see Christ in that stranger who meets you on the road.
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