Together

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 30, 2017

                                                      Easter 3-A

My mom was from the sleepy town of Headland, Alabama.  To get there, you go south through Birmingham, south and slightly east through Montgomery, southeast towards Dothan, and just before you fall off the face of the earth, you turn left, and there's Headland, a small lumber town where nothing ever happens.  Now the sins of the south are many, and having been born there and spent a good deal of my youth and young adulthood there, I can name a lot of them.  But the one thing they really know how to do in Headland, Alabama is party.  When times were good, when someone got a raise, had a baby, bought a house, or got good news, my grandmother and her friends gathered for a party.  When times were hard, when the job was lost, the news was bad, or the roof blew off the house, my grandmother and her friends gathered for a party.  When things were just going along day to day, nothing exciting, nothing particularly good or bad happening, they gathered for a party.  Mr. Ben and Miss Minnie Lee, Mr. Jack and Miss Fannie Mae, and all the people who gathered at my grandmother's house Friday night after Friday night knew that the way to celebrate, the way to mourn, the way to live day to day was to gather folks together, tell stories and share a meal and the appropriate laughter or tears.  And while none of my grandmother's friends were church goers, and the spirits they consulted was more of the distilled variety, they did much to form my theology and my understanding of church as they gathered week after week to share a meal, tell stories, laugh and cry and support each other.

This morning's gospel lesson certainly doesn't start out to be much of a party.  Cleopas and another disciple were returning home to Emmaus on Easter night, tired, sad, discouraged and confused.  Emmaus was another sleepy little town, about 7 miles from Jerusalem, a town where nothing that we know of in Jesus' ministry had ever happened.  We don't know who Cleopas is; he is mentioned nowhere else in the gospel.  The other disciple isn't named at all.  Two unknown disciples are trudging home after what may well have been the worst weekend of their lives, having seen the one they had believed to be the redeemer of Israel condemned to death and crucified.  Two disciples going home to get over their disappointment and get on with their lives. 

And amazingly Jesus chooses to appear to those two weary, grief-stricken disciples.  The two disciples don't even recognize Jesus when he appears to them, walks with them, and interprets to them all the things the scriptures say about him, even though later they remember that their hearts had burned within them.  Only when the risen Jesus is at the table with them, takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them, do the two disciples recognize him.  And then Jesus vanishes from their sight!

This is not just a story about Jesus being revealed to Cleopas and the other disciple in the breaking of the bread on Easter night.  This is a story about how the resurrected Jesus continues to appear, sometimes to the least likely people in the least likely places, sometimes in the worst of circumstances, and makes himself known through the breaking of bread.  Just like my grandmother's friends in Headland, Alabama, we gather here, at this table when times are good, when we have much to celebrate, when there is a baptism as there is today, a wedding, a ministry to celebrate, a building to dedicate.  We gather here at this table when times are bad, when we have lost a loved one or received difficult news, when life is in turmoil and everything seems to have been turned upside down and inside out.  And we gather here, Sunday after Sunday, when things are neither particularly good nor particularly bad.  We gather here to tell the story, share this meal, laugh and cry together and support each other.  And we do it because in the telling of the story, the breaking of the bread, and the company of fellow travelers, we meet the resurrected Jesus.  And it is Easter.

This morning, we have the great joy and privilege of baptizing Erin, Joe, and Kellan Palmer.  Every time we baptize, we all reaffirm our baptismal covenant.  We reaffirm our faith with the words of the Apostles’ Creed, then we are asked how we are going to live out that faith. The first question has a clear connection to Jesus’ appearance on the road to Emmaus: “Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers.”  Teaching, fellowship, and breaking of bread is exactly what happened on that dusty road.  The second question is about maintaining that community-“Will you resist evil and whenever you sin, repent and return to the Lord?”  But the other three questions, about seeking and serving Christ in all people, respecting the dignity of every human being, and proclaiming by word and example, are also directly connected to this story.  Not only are we called to gather at this table, to know Jesus in the breaking of the bread, but we are also called to walk on the dusty road with others, meeting people where they are, shining light in the midst of darkness, proclaiming good news when life looks grim, and making the presence of Christ known in the midst of emptiness.  We practice recognizing Christ in the breaking of the bread in this sacred place, so that we can help others recognize Christ in their midst where ever they may be. 

The promise of the gospel is that Jesus will walk with us as he walked with Cleopas and the other disciple.  The challenge of the gospel is that we learn to recognize Jesus as he walks with us which is not always easy. Sometimes we will fail to recognize Jesus, or recognize him only in hindsight, but that does not change the fact that Jesus is with us.  The work of the gospel is to walk with others as Jesus walked so that no one walks alone.

                                                          Amen.