Third Sunday of Easter, Year A. Luke 24:13-35

Today we are presented with the story of an encounter with the risen Christ on the road to the village of Emmaus.

There are three sites that vie for the village named in the gospel.  I have visited two of the sites, both called Emmaus. At one are the remains of an early church, built to mark the site.  At the other is a French convent, located there for the same reason.  The third site that claims to be the true Emmaus is some distance from Jerusalem, much too far to meet the seven miles recorded in the gospel story.

The Emmaus story is an Easter account. One with liturgical overtones. Christ is made known in the breaking of bread. As in the Eucharist, first comes the proclamation of the word, as Moses and the prophets are interpreted.  Then the four-fold Eucharistic actions of consecration are presented as he “took bread, blessed and broke it and gave it to them.”  These are the same actions that we will repeat today at this altar.

There are features in this Easter story that speak to how we may encounter the living Christ.

For starters, note that the encounter with Christ was unexpected.  These two mourners, perhaps a husband and wife on their way home after the crucifixion, were in no way expecting to meet the one for whom they mourned.

The grace of God can accompany us even when we least expect it.

Notice also how Christ does not suddenly appear like Superman jumping out of a phone booth.  (Although today with the disappearance of most phone booths, Clark Kent would have to find another place to put on his Superman outfit.)

The revelation of Christ to the two mourners comes slowly.  First, their hearts are opened as the word of God is shared.  Next, they invite him into their home.  And, finally, as they share a meal with the stranger, their eyes are opened and they see the risen Christ.

It is the task of our liturgy and the task of our discipleship to open us to the living Christ.  The two people on the road to Emmaus fulfilled that task by welcoming the stranger into their company, by opening their ears and hearts to what he had to say, by offering gracious hospitality and by receiving the vision they were given.

Every day most of us are on the road to some place.  As we go forth we might consider how we are prepared to be encountered by the living Christ.  Will we take time to listen?  Will we be hospitable to grace?  And are we willing to entertain visions of hope?

Journeys like this of two distraught disciples going to Emmaus are wonderful gifts and wonderfully transforming, even though sometimes difficult to receive.

Years ago I worked with a pastoral counselor and went on a journey with him where I explored the hidden pain of having lost my father at the age of seven.  For me it was a journey of both fear and faith because I did not know what I would encounter.  Reflecting back now, I believe that the pastoral counselor’s vision of hope and trust in the living Christ enabled him to create a therapeutic, relational space for me to enter into and allow myself to become vulnerable to an encounter with Christ.

Along the way, and over a period of time I allowed myself to embrace the depth of my pain.  And I experienced what I would now say were glimpses of grace and encounters with Christ’s healing presence. Through this journey the wound from my childhood began to heal and my spirit was transformed. I realized that much of my life had been overshadowed by a fear of abandonment. Through this journey, a trust in God’s abiding presence began to break through and transform my darkness into light. This light was the light of Christ that I believe is available to all of us whenever we find ourselves stuck in a dark place on life’s journey. A place where the two mourners began their journey to Emmaus.

This brings us to another dimension of the Road to Emmaus Easter story, one so important to our worship and one pretty much essential to a life of faith. This account has a mystical flavor. If we are going to take Easter seriously, it is important to open ourselves to the mystical.

Bible stories often embrace fluidity between ordinary and extraordinary realities.  Boundaries are fluid rather than rigid.  Resurrection stories especially partake of this fluidity.  Sometimes this is referred to as luminosity, a quality that brings light to that bathed in darkness.

All of us are accustomed to the realities of the everyday world.  But even though we embrace our faith, we are often less knowing of the luminous realm.  So when we hear these resurrection stories, they may be more puzzling than informative.  That is, in part, because they stretch the boundaries of ordinary experience.

There is no easy way around this dilemma.  One thing we don’t want to do is treat that which is extraordinary as though it is ordinary.  That is what fundamentalism often attempts to do, and it is a disservice to extraordinary reality.

Luminous reality as revealed in the risen Christ is a gift-something beyond ordinary reality but exceedingly informative to it.

You may remember the Maundy Thursday sermon of Dr. Richard Valantasis.  He said that faith reality is not just a footnote to every day reality, but actually gives grounding and ultimate meaning to the every day world.

The mystical side of life revealed in today’s gospel can influence how we experience every day reality. That is exactly what happened to the two people walking to Emmaus.  On their journey they entered into sacred time and space with a stranger who came to be revealed as the living Christ.

Their lives were changed.  This would not have happened if the boundaries of their experience had not been expanded to include the mystical.  In this luminous experience they were enabled to encounter a dimension of reality that their ordinary experience did not offer.  What they discovered was beyond ordinary thinking: Christ was alive.  That same luminous space is what I discovered on the sacred journey I took with the pastoral counselor many years ago.  

Our common worship seeks to offer a segue into the possibility of knowing more than our ordinary experience can provide, of receiving more grace than we think is available.  But it is not magic.  The experience on the road to Emmaus was not magic.  Rather, it was a journey of learning to accept, slowly at first but then fully, God’s abiding presence.  

Easter invites us to open ourselves to God’s mysteries.  To walk the road with Christ and share in the celebration that mystical grace brings to this wide earth every day.  We are invited into the mystery of the risen Christ so that we may go forth into the world of ordinary experience rejoicing in the presence of the living Christ and being empowered by the Holy Spirit.  That is why in these fifty days of Easter we proclaim, Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen, indeed. Alleluia.


The Very Reverend William Thomas Deneke
Rector