Hearts on Fire
“Hearts on Fire” by Pastor Rosanna McFadden
Good morning! I trust we’ve all recovered from Holy Humor Sunday, but I hope you are continuing to find joy in this Easter season. We are still celebrating the resurrection and remembering what it was like for believers to encounter the risen Christ.
I mentioned on Easter Sunday that a comparative reading of the gospel accounts of the resurrection can answer some questions and raise some others. The same is true of post-Easter accounts, which vary even more than the accounts of Easter Sunday morning. Let me give you a short summary: Mark, the earliest and shortest gospel ends with chapter 16. That chapter begins with sunrise on the sabbath day, and the original ending has the disciples leaving the empty tomb in fear and amazement, and saying nothing to anyone, because they were afraid. Material added later, noted as the shorter and longer ending of Mark, has Jesus appearing to Mary Magdalene, commissioning the disciples, and ascending into heaven. The resurrection account in Matthew begins in chapter 28, makes a last criticism of the Pharisees for paying off the Roman guards at the tomb, and then the disciples go to find Jesus in Galilee and he gives them the words of the Great Commission — go therefore and make disciples of all nations, etc — before he ascends into heaven.
Are you with me so far? John, the last gospel written has the resurrection account in chapter 20, and on Easter evening Jesus appears to his disciples who were gathered in a locked room. The disciple Thomas was not with them, so Jesus returns a week later to show Thomas that Christ is indeed risen from the dead. And then John adds an entire additional chapter where some of the disciples go out fishing, there is a miraculous catch, and Jesus has a conversation with Peter about following him. Each of these gospel accounts could be and has been an entire sermon or sermon series. Each one of them is true, but they are true from different angles and intended to highlight a particular truth about Jesus Christ, the Risen One.
I know I shouldn’t play favorites with the gospels, but there is some material from Luke’s gospel which has particular resonance for me. Luke’s resurrection story begins in chapter 24, and continues with the story of Cleopas and another believer on the road to Emmaus. After that, Jesus appears to his disciples, blesses them, and then is carried off into heaven. As you know, the author of Luke wrote tis gospel as Book 1 and the Acts of the Apostles as Book 2: Acts begins with a review of Jesus ascending into heaven.
The story of the walk to Emmaus is the part which is unique to Luke’s gospel, and here’s what I like about it: Jesus is in the midst of a lot of ordinary stuff in an extraordinary way. I am a person who spends most of my life doing ordinary things — going to work, doing my job, spending time with my family, cleaning the house, making meals . . . I could go on, but as you can tell, it isn’t a very exciting list. Even if you are a person who is doing life-saving or death-defying work on a regular basis: saving lives in the emergency room or working as test pilot, whatever, if it is what you do all the time, it is ordinary to you. By definition, we lead ordinary lives — either that or lives which are extraordinarily chaotic. Many of us deal with chaos by hanging on to the familiar, which could be what these two fellows were doing that Sunday morning, getting on with business as usual.
We don’t know why they were walking to Emmaus, but they had plenty to talk about on the way: news was getting around that women who were followers of Jesus encountered angels and found Jesus’ tomb empty when they went that morning. The disciples went and looked for themselves and sure enough, the linen wrappings were there, but Jesus body was gone. Could he really be risen from the dead? A story like that gets around in a hurry. A stranger joined them on the road and asked, “What are you discussing?” And they replied, are you the only person from Jerusalem who hasn’t head about what happened in the past few days? Which led to an interesting conversation, particularly since this stranger was very well informed about Jewish writings and prophecies. When they got to Emmaus, the stranger walked ahead as if he was going to continue, but it was getting dark, and they asked him to stay with them. They sat down to eat, and the stranger took some bread, blessed it and broke it — and then it stopped being an ordinary day or an ordinary conversation or an ordinary meal because they saw the stranger as Jesus and knew it was Jesus and knew that Jesus was alive and the rumors were true. And then Jesus vanished, which is just one more extraordinary thing to add to that meal.
I don’t know how many of you have had an experience that you would describe as encountering Jesus. It isn’t necessarily seeing something or hearing a voice, but a sense of Jesus being present and real. Maybe it happened at camp or at a revival meeting or in a large group of people; maybe you have had this experience when you were alone or in a hospital or in a small group. I remember this experience for myself when I was at a retreat years ago, and the memory is still fresh and the experience is still powerful. Jesus is present and Jesus is alive. Cleopas and his friend describe this feeling as their hearts burning within them — this is about inspiration, not indigestion — when Jesus was teaching them and talking to them, their hearts were on fire. Whatever that sensation was, it compelled them to get up that same hour and return to Jerusalem — seven miles starting at sunset — and seek out the disciples.
What was it about Jesus taking bread, blessing it and breaking it which opened their eyes to recognize him as Jesus? Luke doesn’t answer that question, which gives us some space for our own reflection. Of course, taking, blessing, breaking, and sharing bread is a formula for the service of communion which we hear regularly. But would these men have known that? Jesus’ last supper with his disciples was just 3 days before, and these men weren’t present at that meal. They hadn’t heard Jesus describe the bread as his own body, broken for his friends. I think it’s more likely, and perhaps more miraculous, that these travelers to Emmaus saw Jesus in the ordinary exchange of hospitality and table fellowship. What if they had let him walk on ahead and hadn’t encouraged him to stay with them. What then? They certainly weren’t expecting to see Jesus, but out of respect and courtesy for this stranger, they invited him to stay. My grandson says a table grace which goes like this, “Come Lord Jesus be our guest, let these gifts to us be blessed.” The power in this for me, and why I love this story from Luke is not because it is so miraculous, but because it is so ordinary. Breaking bread happens all the time. We encounter people we don’t know, or don’t recognize, with regularity. If we allowed for the possibility that people we don’t know — cashiers, health care workers, visitors to Creekside — might reveal something about Jesus, how would that affect the way we interact with them? How might our hearts burn within us or our eyes be opened? What could we learn about Jesus being present with us?There is, of course, a risk to looking for Jesus in the midst of our ordinary lives. What if other people aren’t trustworthy, or aren’t who we think they are, or are out to do us harm? Those are real possibilities, so those are reasonable questions, especially if our goal is to minimize risk. But are we willing to risk missing Jesus to ensure that we are safe? What if the stranger or the other has something to teach us or a way to open our eyes? Does keeping stranger out of our building make our hearts burn with inspiration and hope? I believe there are forces in the world which seek to turn our hearts to hatred and suspicion; and when we meet other people with hatred and suspicion, we are likely to get hatred and suspicion in return. Sisters and brothers, I know what the experience of encountering Jesus meant for me. The power of understanding that Jesus was blessed and broken, and what it means for me to be blessed and broken. I can’t say what that experience has meant or might mean for you, but as we walk together, I pray that we will see Jesus and be changed. Amen.