Sermon for 3rd Sunday of Easter – evening
Sunday 30th April 2017
Acts 2. 14a, 36-41
Luke 24. 13-35
Revd Preb Maureen Hobbs
Journeying from Sunset to Sunrise…
The story of the journey to Emmaus and the experience of the two disciples is a favourite of mine.
Today in other services we are thinking especially about the role of godparents in the Christian journey and this story relates to that so well.
And for many of us here today the gradual nature of a journey during which one comes to the realisation of the reality of faith is one we can relate to more easily than that of St. Paul with his blinding flash of conversion on the road to Damascus – but isn’t it interesting that faith always seems to be linked to a journey, a road to Emmaus, or Damascus, or Jerusalem – or maybe even Lichfield, Wolverhampton or Pattingham?
So who were these two disciples anyway? We are only given the name of one of them, Cleopas, and he never reappears again in the pages of the NT.
But we are told that among the women ‘standing near the cross of Jesus and witnessing his horrible death, were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. So many Marys – or Miriams as they would have been in Aramaic / Hebrew. So many speculate that Clopas and Cleopas are the same person – in which case the second, un-named disciple on the road that evening may have been Mary his wife, the sister (or possibly half-sister) of the Virgin Mary and therefore the Aunt of Jesus.
So how come they did not recognise the stranger who drew alongside them and was talking so eloquently with them? This has always been the subject of much puzzlement. One explanation is that Jesus was the last person they were expecting to encounter. They had seen him die with their own eyes – pretty conclusively. And maybe Jesus was wearing the
1st Century equivalent of the hoody – that would conceal his face and identity from them. Then again, the disciples were walking West from Jerusalem as evening approached, the setting sun would have been in their eyes and they could have been partly dazzled by the sunset.
Whatever the reason, it seems that not until the travellers have entered the inn, a meal has been served and – somewhat surprisingly the guest suddenly assumes the role of the host and begins to bless and break the bread – only then do they suddenly recognize the one who has been with them all the while.
William Barclay, the great 20th century Scots commentator on the Bible calls this section of St Luke’s Gospel, – rather romantically – “the sunset road that turned to dawn”. He points out that the despondent disciples had not understood the implications of the empty tomb, and thought the sun of their life was now setting; the good times were gone, they thought, never to return. But when they recognized Jesus, and realized that he had been dead, but was now alive again, they finally understood that his death was not the end of anything, but only a beginning.
From now on, Jesus – while maybe not physically present with them (or with us) would in a mysterious and wonderful way, always be with them, giving them strength of character to face whatever suffering may lie ahead. Now he would pour his love into their hearts, enabling them to love their neighbours – and even their enemies – for his sake and through the power of his Holy Spirit. So they were not sinking into a gloomy sunset, but rising anew to a glorious new dawn. “The Christian goes onward,” writes Barclay, “not to a night which falls, but to a dawn which breaks.”
Last week we heard from Phil Davis, something of the work of the Hope projects, providing housing and legal advice to Asylum Seekers who – it is judged – have fallen foul of a the Home Office systems, even though they appear to have a good case. Listening to some of the stories that he can tell us – and indeed listening to much of what comes from our TVs, radios and newspapers, it would be tempting to think that the world is sinking deeper into sunset. So much cruelty, bureaucracy and violence seems to be prevalent, it would be easy to become totally despondent too. But people like Phil, working at the sharp end of human misery and distress give us reassurance that – even if only in small ways and one individual at a time, the dawn of hope can break anew.
Jesus makes sense of our lives for us. The disappointed disciples had hoped that Jesus would lead Israel in violent revolt and bring about the downfall of Rome. There are still people today who think that physical force and bloody murder can bring about freedom: and they always find that they are wrong – that the ‘last state is worse than the first’. Jesus revealed that submitting to your oppressor, while speaking up for others who are oppressed and keeping your moral integrity clean, is the only way to build a kingdom of love.
In three weeks or so, we will see the launch of our Monthly Lunch initiative – aimed at those who are lonely, maybe not too mobile, and who would enjoy a chance to share a simple meal and some conversation. I would not mind betting that as bread is blessed and shared some will be aware of the presence of the Risen Christ – standing there among us. May it be so – Amen.