Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" They stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?" 19 He asked them, "What things?" They replied, "The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23 and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him."
Then [Jesus] said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?"
27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures. 28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 But they urged him strongly, saying, "Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over." So he went in to stay with them. 30 When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" 33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying, "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread. -Luke 24:13-35
At its roots,
the word com-panion means
“one with whom we share bread.”
To call someone a companion, then, [often] implies
a certain level of intimacy.
This person,
my companion,
is not only a friend,
but also someone with whom I’ve journeyed:
sometimes through seasons of stomach-growling
and sometimes through seasons of feasts.
Whatever the case,
we’ve walked the road together,
side by side
along the way.
+++
Arguably, the companionship that is shared between disciples and their messiah
runs even deeper than that.
This is because they are united not by bread alone,
but by a special kind of hunger.
Cleopas and his unnamed friend in today’s story
shared this special kind of hunger with Jesus (their messiah).
As did many.
This hunger is the hunger that was expressed in those
who shouted “Hosanna!” (Save us!) in the streets,
just a few weeks back:
a homesickness for a better tomorrow,
for the Reign of God,
for a world where all are healed
and all are able to eat;
a hunger that prays “thy kindom come on earth,”
that blesses the peacemakers,
that desires that those who mourn will laugh,
and that proclaims that the humbled shall be exalted
and the lowly will be lifted up.
The companionship that is shared
between disciples and their messiah runs deep
because the bread that they share
is more than bread.
The bread that they share
is hope,
hunger,
homesickness:
longing
for a world that is
well-fed
and happy
and at-ease.
Homesick for a world where everyone
feels
at home.
+++
This hungry hope is the bread that Cleopas
and his friend
and Jesus,
their messiah,
had all shared.
They were companions.
And they were companions of the deepest kind.
+++
But then something happened.
There was a kiss.
And there was a cross.
And there was a tomb.
And as one led to another,
as Jesus breathed his last,
and as Joseph laid Jesus’ body in a cave,
something of their homesick hunger for the Not-Quite-Yet,
something that had once burned bright in Cleopas and his friend,
went away.
They gave up something of the Ghost, of the Spirit.
Their hunger was gone.
+++
No wonder
when Jesus approached them,
he went unrecognized.
+++
Fear and trauma, crosses and tombs,
have a way of distorting our hopes,
souring our hunger,
and (even) turning us against one another.
Those who were once our companions
now seem like total strangers,
and (a lot of times) they even seem like enemies.
We all know something about this.
We see it on multiple screens every day:
[pause]
“You are a selfish heathen who wants to reopen the world before it is safe!” We scream and mock those who seem to exhibit a naive and shallow disregard for the vulnerable and old.
“You are a self-righteous (and obviously financially privileged) nut!” says another,
“You say you care for people who are vulnerable,
but I am vulnerable,
and you don’t care that I’m out of a job and at risk,
(once again)
of living in the car.”
In the face of fear and trauma, crosses and tombs,
we polarize
often to the advantage of--and even fueled by--others’ agendas.
When this happens,
each sibling (each loved one)
becomes
a rival,
each claiming the side of justice
and of compassion
and of love,
each naming the other as the enemy,
or the irresponsible,
or [the language gets worse]...
We are not sure if we can love that person anymore.
Those people.
We no longer can hear them naming their real fear and real pain.
We don’t recognize what they are asking:
Will I have enough?
Will my family be able to eat?
Will my loved ones be healthy?
Will they live? Will I live? Will it be too late?
Will we ever have peace?
Will we still have a place that we can call home?
Their words don’t express it. The pain is buried behind weird political talking points or somewhat confusing memes.
Who EVEN are you?
We say to those we love
What world are you possibly from?
Are you the only one who has no clue what’s been going on?
+++
I imagine Cleopas as annoyed at this stranger on the road.
Here,
he and his friend are mourning,
deeply disturbed
by the events of the last few days.
Pain is the immediate center of their universe.
And here,
this man,
unaware,
shows up whistling and strolling along,
seemingly not a care in the world.
It would have been easy for them to write him off:
“If you are not for us, you’re against us.”
“We’ve got more important things to tend to.”
But instead, they walked with him.
And as they journeyed,
he revealed to them something of himself.
They shared their loss.
They named, aloud, their pains.
He showed them the scars on his hands side.
And, somehow, in the midst of all of it,
they managed to meet their Messiah once again,
they re-encountered the One who had instigated hunger in them.
They remembered his homesick longing for the Reign of God.
And remembering that hunger
that was once their bread..
.
Remembering that hunger that had dissipated at the tomb…
Remembering that hunger…
it began to return.
They began to taste it.
And it was good.
+++
Fear in our time is real.
Pain is palpable.
It’s deeply felt.
There are real crosses and real tombs all around us.
Many of our livelihoods
and our actual lives
are under threat.
Many have died.
In times of fear and pain,
of crosses and tombs,
it is easy to make a stranger
or even an enemy
of those we once loved:
to name the problem we see
as this person or that person,
and then to attack it.
But (generally speaking) it is not our neighbors who are the enemy.
It is a world and systems that demand crosses and tombs.
It’s a system that profits from their making.
It is a reality that makes us choose between
feeding a family
and keeping another family alive--
as if, given that option,
we could ever make an ethical (or loving) choice!
These should not be our decisions!
Either one of these
leaves someone vulnerable.
Either decides
that someone is worthy of being passed by
or left-for-dead on the road.
+++
+++
The word com-panion means “one with whom I share bread.”
The companionship that is shared
between disciples and their messiah runs deep
because the bread that they share
is more than bread:
The bread that they share
is hope,
hunger,
homesickness:
longing
for a world that is well-fed
and happy
and at-ease.
When Jesus re-enters the scene after his resurrection,
and finds his friends on their way,
this is the hungry hope that he brings:
not a hope that turns one’s sibling into a sacrifice,
but a homesick hope,
a hope that gathers us together,
hungry for a world
where the decision is not between
working
or
putting others at fatal risk,
but only:
“What shall we eat today?”
Because in the world Jesus lives for,
all are cared for,
all have enough,
all are healed,
and everyone is able to eat.
May this hunger fill us again and bind us together,
even as it filled Cleopas
and his companions
as they went on their way.
Amen.
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