WE HAD HOPED

1 Peter 1:17-23; Luke 24:13-35

3rd Sunday of Easter, April 23, 2023

Pastor Ritva H Williams

Today’s Gospel reading takes us back 2000 years and 6000 miles, as two disciples make their way from Jerusalem to Emmaus.  One is named Cleopas. I shall call his unnamed partner Simon. I imagine him as a youth. Perhaps he is Cleopas’ son. They had gone to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover with their beloved Rabbi Jesus. Here’s how I imagine their conversation unfolding:

Simon groans, “Ugh! Every time I close my eyes all see is Rabbi Jesus hanging on that cross. His skin all torn and bleeding, his face swollen, bruised and bloody, barely recognizable. And the dogs licking up the blood at the foot of the cross…Ugh!”

Cleopas rubs Simon’s back: “I should have left you with the women when I went to Golgotha to see if the rumors were true.”

Simon shakes his head: “Abba, I’m too old to be left behind. Besides all the women were there, including mom. Who would have believed the Romans would crucify Rabbi Jesus?

“I know, Simon. We were all so certain that Jesus was the one to redeem Israel. He was no ordinary rabbi. He was a mighty prophet, like the prophets of old in the sacred scrolls. Jesus not only shared a vision of God’s reign here and now, creating a world in which no one was hungry or grieving, a world in which no one was sick or in pain. Jesus made God’s reign happen, healing the sick, the lame, the blind, and the deaf, feeding the hungry so abundantly there were leftovers. We were so certain he would redeem us from the Romans.”

“But Abba, why didn’t God do something? How could God let the soldiers do those things to Rabbi Jesus? All his life Jesus said God was his “abba.” It’s almost like God turned his back on him.”

“Hush… Simon you mustn’t say things like that. God’s ways are beyond human understanding. I guess that for all Jesus was a mighty prophet, he wasn’t the messiah and savior of Israel as we had hoped. It was just too good to be true. Now we just have to try to get on with our lives.”

After a few minutes of silence, Simon asks, “But what about the story the women told of the empty tomb and seeing angels? Could they be signs that maybe God hasn’t abandoned Jesus? Could there still be some hope?”

Cleopas snorts, “Simon, Simon… I thought you were too old to listen to women’s idle tales. It’s no surprise they couldn’t find his body. How close did they actually get to the burial site? As for the vision of angels? They were hysterical. All that wailing and lamenting would make anyone crazy.”

Simon again falls silent. A stranger comes along side and asks, “So what you are talking about as you trudge along this dusty road?” They stop there in the middle of the road and share their story. Cleopas provides the details, Simon chimes in, “But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” Cleopas notes that it was now the third day since these tragic events took place. Simon adds the astonishing news of the empty tomb and vision of angels. Cleopas concludes that although some of them went to check out the women’s story, they did not see Jesus. 

Let’s close the scene there. Cleopas really did have a son named Simon. About thirty-five years after the death and resurrection of Jesus, he became the leader of the church in Jerusalem. I have no idea if he was with his father Cleopas at the time of Jesus’ death and resurrection, but the possibility makes for a neat imaginary conversation. But that’s not focus of my message this morning.  

The disciples on the road to Emmaus is not just something that happened 2000 years and 6000 miles away. Right now there are two disciples on a journey. One of them might be named Cleopas, or another name. There is a blank space in this gospel story – a blank space that I filled with the name of Cleopas’ son “Simon,” but which could just as easily be filled with your name. Or mine. Whatever their names, this is a story about two people whose reality is defined by four words, “but we had hoped.” 

“But we had hoped” are among the most heartbreaking words in Scripture and in real life. They point to broken promises, dreams that won’t materialize, a future that is not to be. Like Ernest Hemingway’s six word tragedy: For sale. Baby shoes, never worn,” the words “but we had hoped” speak of a future that has died. These words speak of disappointment, failure and loss, when the cancer returns, addiction is not overcome, the job is lost, the child doesn’t come home, the lover turns away, the loved one dies. We had hoped, but it didn’t turn out the way we hoped, and we are left standing still in the middle of a dusty road, broken hearted and blinded by grief. 

But the two disciples who had hoped are not alone in this gospel story. There is the risen Christ — that stranger who uninvited and unexpected comes alongside them on the road, walks with them, listens to their story, explores the scriptures with them, and who is finally persuaded to join them for dinner. But when the table is set, the stranger does a very characteristic Jesus thing —and everything changes. 

What is it that Jesus does? He takes the bread, speaks the blessing, and shares the bread with his companions. In Luke’s gospel, one of the most characteristic activities of Jesus’ ministry is eating with friends, with strangers, with sinners, with powerful people out to get him. Jesus spends so much time eating that his opponents call him a glutton and a drunkard (7:34).  Jesus himself defines faithful and wise servant leadership as ensuring that people are fed at the proper time (Luke 12:42). 

So, is it any wonder that the disciples recognize the risen Christ finally in the blessing and breaking of bread?  As one commentator puts it, “it is instructive that it’s not Christ’s teaching that opens their eyes. It’s not Christ’s presence. It’s Christ’s sharing of bread.” 

Comfort, strength, perseverance, and even hope can be restored as one’s body is literally nourished by friends bringing and sharing food. I know this from first hand experience. Thank you to all those who kept the Williams’ household fed after John’s surgery during Holy Week! The sharing of food is about so much more than just filling hungry bellies. It is love and caring in action. Eating together bonds people across generations, and across cultural barriers. Eating together is holy and life-giving on so many levels. 

The good news for this third Sunday of Easter is precisely this: whenever “but we had hoped” defines our reality, know that the risen Christ is near and walking alongside you. The Christ who is here unbidden and unexpected may look like, talk like, and act like a friend or even a stranger. You will know the hidden Christ by the way they listen, by the way they nudge you toward new understandings and new perspectives, and above all by the way they feed and nourish you.

Receive this blessing of the bread and cup by Jan Richardson

Let us bless the bread that gives itself to us

with its terrible weight, its infinite grace.

Let us bless the cup poured out for us

with a love that makes us anew.

Let us gather around these gifts

simply given and deeply blessed.

And then let us go

bearing the bread, carrying the cup,

laying the table within a hungering world. 

Amen.