Breaking Bread with Strangers

St. Paul’s United Methodist Church
Luke 24: 13-35, Robyn Morrison, April 6, 2008


Today’s scripture, the story of the Walk to Emmaus from the Gospel of Luke, has been pivotal for me.  In 1993 I attended the Walk to Emmaus and the experience had a profound impact on my life and my faith.  If it had not been for the thirteen years of sharing my faith journey and working with the Emmaus Community, I would not be graduating with a Master of Divinity in May, and I would not be pursuing Ordination.  I have also felt supported by my home Church, St. Pauls.  I feel particularly blessed to share a message about one of my favorite Bible stories with the Church that has nurtured me on my journey and my friends from the Helena Emmaus Community.

The Emmaus Road story is fairly long with a few different scenes, so rather than read it all at the beginning; I have chosen to weave the story or scripture into my message.  To make it a little easier to know when I am shifting in and out of the scripture, the words to the scripture will be projected on the screen.  Now listen to the Emmaus Road story from Luke Chapter 24: 13-35.

Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.

And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad.  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?”

Cleopas and his companion are traveling on the Road from Jerusalem to Emmaus.  Their hero has been brutally slain.  They encounter a stranger on the road, and regardless of the many good reasons they have to be fearful, they allow a total stranger to join them in their conversation.  The stranger is Jesus, but in the midst of their grief, anger, and despair they are not able to recognize him.

My younger seminarian friends have introduced me to the music of Jason Upton.  Due to his Native American roots, his music often has a prophetic edge. The following is the beginning of a song he wrote called “Road to Emmaus.”[1]

Have you ever said goodbye to a hero?

Have you ever had to lay away your dreams?

Have you ever been so lonely that a stranger is your best friend?

then you’ll know what I mean

So this is our highway to heaven

our American dream

the two fools on the road to Emmaus

well they might as well be you and me

This Thursday (April 3, 2008) marked the 40th anniversary of the assassination of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.   The anniversary was recognized throughout the world.  For friends and followers of MLK, this past week was a time to remember their personal anger and grief.  For our country, this was a time to remember a fallen hero.

Can we imagine how Jesse Jackson and Ralph Abernathy felt in the days following the assassination of their friend and hero?  Grief -- their dreams shattered?  Fear -- who would be the next target of racism and hatred?  Anger -- how could God let this happen?

Have you ever been so fearful, so grief stricken, so angry that you can not see what is right in front of your face?  Jesus encounters Cleopas and his friend -- it could be you or me -- in the midst of their confusion and grief, and they do not recognize his presence.

Luke’s story continues as Cleopas and his companion pour out their story to the stranger who walks with them.

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, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 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.

Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 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. 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.”

Jesus is walking with two of his disciples and although they are talking about him, they cannot recognize him.  Jesus walks with them and listens as they tell him their story.

We have plenty of empty tombs in our lives.  What happens when we share our stories with a compassionate stranger, when someone listens to our deepest doubts, confusion, shattered dreams, and grief?  Someone very wise once said, “what people need most is to be listened to.”

This winter I had the opportunity to travel with other seminarians to El Salvador and Honduras in Central America, and Uganda and Rwanda in Africa.  They were not mission trips, they were relationship building trips.  Our journeys focused on deep listening, rather than rescuing or even serving.  I heard stories of the challenges leaders are facing and how policies of the United States, including our traditional ways of doing mission, have negatively impacted their communities and lives.   Political authorities are oppressive and ignore the plight of the people.  In countries that are predominately Christian, the church has often contributed to the problems.  In Uganda and Rwanda Christians have killed other Christians, families have been divided, and people have been displaced from their communities, left to wander as refugees without a sense of safety or a home.  Yet, they shared their stories with us and in their sharing we gained clarity and vision, and as we listened with open hearts and minds they felt our love.

The road to Emmaus gives us a great model for pastoral care.  Jesus listens first, then he reframes.  In the next passage from Luke he responds to their fear, grief, and anger.

Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

Jesus placed the events of his crucifixion into a historical perspective.  He returned to the living word of God, Holy Scripture, and used stories from the ancient prophets to explain his story.  Throughout history, we have done horrible things to prophets.

Fallen heroines and heroes are part of our history.  Speaking truth to power is costly.  However, suffering is not the end of the story, it is woven into the continuing human story.   Although I heard painful stories while on my international journey, I also heard inspiring prophetic visions.  My heart was touched and warmed by the new ministries emerging with local leadership in all four countries.  The thirteen year old Methodist Church of El Salvador is building a movement that John Wesley himself would be extremely proud of.  They are growing their own leaders, building churches with the poorest of the poor, providing job training, basic education, and generously sharing what little financial resources they have.

In Uganda my friend David Ofumbi and other young Christian leaders from several denominations are joining forces to change the leadership culture of their country from one of oppression and dependency to one of empowerment.  Like Jesus, they prophetically rail against a religious and political system that has cheated the poor, misappropriated funds for food for the hungry and medicine for the sick, and displaced the rural peasants by violence and wars.  While I listened to David’s prophetic vision during a symposium in Uganda, I worried for his future safety.  When he returns this summer, he will continue his journey as a Disciple of Jesus -- risking his life to speak truth to power.  

The Emmaus story shows us how we can reframe our own stories.  We can search the Bible and interpret scriptures through history, and our current experiences, to find new insights to face the challenges of our time.  By listening to the faith stories of people in Africa and Central America, I am able to read the gospel through their context and gain a deeper understanding of Jesus as “Lord and Savior.”

One of the recurrent themes in the gospel of Luke is the power of table fellowship.  At the end of their long walk, Cleopas and his companion extend hospitality to the stranger.

As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 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.

When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.

Cleopas and his companion were probably tired and hungry at the end of their journey.  Most of the followers of Jesus were poor and food was often scarce.   Yet they invite this storytelling stranger to share what little they had to eat.  This is our model for Christian hospitality.  No matter how little we think we have to share, we can indeed welcome the stranger into our home to share a meal.  

This week I read Jesse Jackson’s story of his last few moments with MLK.  They were preparing to go to dinner with a local pastor, and King admonished Jackson for not wearing a tie.  Jesse said to him "You know, Dr King, the requisite for dinner is an appetite, not a tie.”  King laughed at that. Then he turned to Ben Branch, a musician standing next to Jackson, and asked him to perform his favorite song at a rally later that night: "Make sure you play ‘Take My Hand, Precious Lord.’ Play it real pretty."    Those were his final words to Jesse.[2]

A week after he was assassinated, the Civil Rights Act was signed into law.  The death of King was not the end of his movement.

As our group of fifteen students and professors traveled across Uganda and Rwanda, we were treated to the most amazing and generous meals.  Travel was extremely difficult in part due to the disintegration of the roads and infrastructure, and in part because there were fifteen of us traveling together and everywhere we went the listening took even longer than the organizer’s had anticipated.  Several evenings we arrived at our destination for dinner very late in the evening.  Our local hosts had waited for hours with the meals they had prepared for us.  Sharing a meal with us was their expression of gratitude and hope.  In spite of the tremendous suffering they had experienced, they shared their food and their hope with us.

When we shared meals together and prayed together, Jesus was present.  We experienced a palpable, living presence of the power of the resurrected Christ to redeem the world.  To borrow a phrase from the founder of Methodism, John Wesley, “Uur hearts were strangely warmed”, even if the food was not.

Luke describes a similar physical sensation through the voices of Cleopas and his companion.  

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?” That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together.  They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

 Confusion and grief are still with us.  We still read the headlines and find ourselves saying goodbye to our fallen heroes and heroines -- leaders engaging in nonviolent resistance are being crushed by the powerful in Tibet, Myanmar, and Kenya.  Forty years have passed since the assassination of Rev. King, and the effects of racism, economic injustice, and war are still with us.  In our efforts to make sense out of our anger, confusion, and grief, we long to share our questions, sorrows, and stories with each other.  

The Emmaus story gives us a model for the Christian journey.  Sharing stories with the people of El Salvador, Honduras, Uganda, and Rwanda was a mutually transformative experience.  When we accept the teaching and interpretations of the ancient Scriptures from new perspectives -- from someone we encounter as a stranger -- we gain new insights.  We start the process of being transformed from within, our hearts are warmed and softened by the good news of how the living Christ really is working in the lives of people today.  We recognize the resurrection.

How often do we pass by a stranger, an immigrant, someone not like us, and not recognize that she is Jesus in our midst?  We can recognize Jesus in the simple act of hospitality and sharing bread with a stranger.  Ultimately by welcoming the stranger into our home, sharing the bread of our life with someone whose path crosses ours, these are the moments where we can recognize the presence of the living Christ.

Yet even when recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread, Jesus vanishes again.  These transcendent moments pass quickly, leaving the on-going work of sharing our daily bread, and creating the Kingdom of God on earth, in our hands.  That is the role of the Church.  That is our call as Disciples, and Christ travels with us.

May the risen Christ meet you on your journey, and may you recognize him when you break bread with strangers.