“AFTER THE LOSS”
Scripture Lesson: Luke 24: 13-35
Dr. Matthew Brown
When I saw the picture in the newspaper, the first thought that crossed my mind was this: “I hope she never chooses to run for political office.”
It seems that following the victory of the Tar Heels over
the Michigan State Spartans in the NCAA semifinal game, a crowd of people
poured out into the streets of
Anyway, the newspaper photo introduced us to a young coed,
highlighted, styled hair,
Disorderly conduct. I doubt this was what she had planned for the evening, but I guess we all have our ways of dealing with loss. Lose a game - blame the refs or start a riot. Lose a set of keys - rummage through dirty laundry or even dive in a dumpster. Lose a filling and scream bloody murder while eating through a straw. Lose a friend or someone close to you - what do you do?
We respond to loss in many different ways, but when we lose someone close to us there is an unavoidable compulsion to in some way process what has happened.
In Morganton, the path from the church to our house took you by Sossomon’s Funeral Home. And so when I went home during the day there was a good chance I would either face or follow a procession headed to the cemetery. But almost every night that I drove home I would see clusters of people talking in the parking lot, caught up in little conversation bouquets following the visitation. Now, granted, some of those people may have been talking about the weather or the candidates for county commissioner, but I would guarantee you that a number of those people were talking about the demise of the deceased, seeking in some way to process what had happened.
In one group you would undoubtedly find an amateur physician or pathologist tracing the health history of the person who had died, while in another group you would hear someone discussing the strengths, or more likely, the weaknesses of their friend, along with the complications within his or her web of relationships. In each instance, though, the people are just trying to process what has happened, to gain some clarity about what this life meant and what the loss of this friend or family members means to those who are still living. How will the pieces be glued back together and how will life go on?
Whether it’s the death of the blue collar colleague who works down at the plant or on the scale of an entire globe of people pondering the passing of the Pope, there is this need in us to talk, to process, to work through what has happened.
After Jesus’ death, Peter wanted to return to the familiar and told the others, “I’m going fishing.” Others talked and huddled behind locked doors, wondering if the Romans or the temple officials would be after them also. And today we read of two disciples of Jesus, one named Cleopas and the other unnamed, who on that first Easter evening walk and talk along the road to Emmaus, a seven mile journey from Jerusalem.
While they were not within that core group of twelve
disciples, their hearts had been moved and their lives had been disrupted by
this powerful force from
They had joined that burgeoning band of disciples and among them, there was a growing sense of anticipation that Jesus could just be the One to redeem Israel, and you know, they probably didn’t even know what that meant, but there was excitement in the air because of the sense that something big was about to happen.
Yet, what did happen was not what they expected, not at all. When our leaders stumble or fall, we may be disillusioned, but how would our hopes be diminished if our leader, the one on whom we had pinned our aspirations, were to be condemned by the courts of the church and killed, not in some random, senseless drive by shooting, but executed as an official act of the government where he is hung out for public display?
And then, three days later, the body disappears! Do you think Cleopas and his friend had anything to talk about, to process?
And so they walked, and they talked, and they walked and they talked, and by the time the stranger had joined them, they were stopped still with sadness. I remember one evening years ago after a particularly disillusioning and insulting phone conversation being so full of hurt, so full of frustration and anger that I just felt like I had to walk, just get out and walk it out; walk fast, walk far. Do you remember Forest Gump, after the love of his life had left, how he just took off running back and forth, back and forth across the country?
Sometimes, you just gotta go, gotta move, no destination in mind, but you’ve gotta walk, you’ve gotta run. As long as humans act the way we do, treat one another the way we do, disappoint one another the way we do, Nike is gonna stay in business. Sometimes, you’ve just got to walk. I guess you could call my addiction to running - preventive maintenance. But what do you do when the walking, the running isn’t enough? Have you ever been disillusioned, disappointed? Have you ever had your hopes dashed? Your dreams deferred? Have you ever uttered those three words tinged with despair –
We had hoped... What to do? What to do?
O, but take a look at what the risen Christ does with these disciples, stopped still in sadness on their way to Emmaus. He reads the Scriptures, he interprets the Scriptures, he breaks the bread of communion with them. He reads the Scriptures, he interprets the
Scriptures, he shares the Eucharist. Word and Sacrament. Word and Sacrament.
Calvin said long ago that the church exists where the Word of God is preached and the sacraments are administered. Word and Sacrament. It is what we do. Word and Sacrament. On the road to Emmaus, it is what Jesus offers, showing the disciples and us how he will be with them when he is no longer with them. In worship we gather around the Word, we share the sacraments, and in a way beyond our understanding we experience the presence of the living Christ in powerful and profound ways. Jesus said,
“I am the way”, and this is how he shows us the way. Fed through the Word, nourished with the sacrament, we read of the impact upon those walking pilgrims long ago: Their hearts burned and their eyes were opened.
I read recently of someone suggesting that the unnamed disciple in this story is... you. Journeying along, wrestling with life’s disappointments, processing life’s losses, Christ reveals himself to you, makes himself present to you, through the power of the Word and the breaking of the bread in the community of faith. Word and Sacrament. It is why we gather. It is what we do. And here and there, now and then, in spite of mediocre sermons or unfamiliar tunes or drooping eyelids, the Word becomes alive and Christ becomes present to us and it is enough. Our hearts burn and our eyes are opened and it is enough to confirm that Jesus will walk with us, be present to us along the way. He showed us on the road to Emmaus that this is how it would work, and so it does. Word and Sacrament.
God’s good grace is sufficient.
Fred Craddock, the great pastor and preacher, tells of what a young woman who approached him during her first year of college said to him. She said, “I was a failure in my classes; I wasn’t having any dates; and I didn’t have as much money as the other students. I was just so lonely and depressed and homesick and not succeeding. One Sunday afternoon,” she said, “I went to the river near the campus. I had climbed up on the rail and was looking into the dark water below. For some reason or another I thought of the line, ‘Cast all your cares upon him for he cares for you.’” She said, “I stepped back, and here I am.”
Craddock asked her, “Where did you learn that line?”
She said, “I don’t know.”
He asked, “Do you go to church?”
She said, “No... Well, when I visited my grandmother in the summers we went to Sunday school and church.”
Craddock said, “Ah!” Word and Sacrament. It made their hearts burn. It opened their eyes to the presence of Christ. It is why we gather and it is enough.
Amen.
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