We Are The Church—Walking Together!
Psalm 116:12-19, Luke 24:13-35
by Rev. Richard Thompson

     It must have been the longest day of their life.  They were going home.  Home, because there was nothing else to do.  There hopes were dashed.  Their dreams destroyed.  Their future obliterated.  They were forlorn, and there was nothing for them to do but return to Emmaus, lick their wounds, and try to figure out what to do with their lives now–now that Jesus was dead.

     It was a long seven-mile journey, over the dusty road, with dirty feet, and parched throats, and weary bodies, and empty spirits.  Jesus has died–the one, they acknowledge, thought would save them and redeem Israel.  Jesus has died, and Cleopas and his companion feel just as defeated as Jesus had been when they hung him on a cross to die and laid him in a cold, dark tomb.  Can you imagine that kind of emptiness inside, that numbness in your soul?  Perhaps you’ve felt it before–such sadness and loss that you wondered what the point of your life was now?  Can you imagine being so crushed by despair and weighed down by hopelessness that your mind, your heart, your eyes of faith are closed, and there’s no possible way you’d recognize Jesus, even if he joined you on your journey?

     You’re walking together, you and your friend, down that long, dusty road, discussing what had happened, lamenting the dashing of your hopes, regretting that your joy in following Jeuss had now been turned to bitter sorrow, recalling the mighty deeds of Jesus, and your hope in him, and now he was dead, dead, dead.

     There you are, the two of you, walking that long road, and it’s a lonely road.  You are together–but together only in your grief.  You are together, but you are alone–because your master and friend Jesus has died, and you are in despair.

     And then you’re joined by a stranger.  You should know who it is, but you don’t.  Your faith is shattered, and your hope is destroyed, and you have no future, so you don’t recognize who it is who has joined you. 

     Can you imagine being in such inner turmoil?

     The stranger begins talking.  And, incredibly, he has no idea, what you’ve experienced.  All of Jerusalem knows, but the stranger seems clueless.  So you tell him about your heartache, and your shattered hopes, and your empty future, all because Jesus has died.  The stranger starts talking about the Old Testament–the only Bible you and Cleopas would have known.  He invites you to remember the stories about how God has worked in the past–worked through the suffering of people like Moses, and the prophets, and the mysterious suffering servant of Isaiah.  “Hasn’t God brought victory and redemption through that suffering?” the stranger asks.  “Couldn’t God do that again?  Couldn’t this Jesus be God’s Messiah, and couldn’t his suffering be not the end, but God’s way of establishing God’s rule in the world and in human hearts?

     And as the stranger talks to you, something happens inside you and Cleopas.  You won’t understand it until later.  Your heart begins to burn–not with heartache, not with pain, not with grief–but with the little twinges of hope, little twitters of joy.  And you wonder what it all means.

     You are still walking together, the three of you, and now you’re at the village of Emmaus.  It’s dusk, time to find food and shelter for the evening–and where will the stranger stay tonight?  Following the custom of the day, you and Cleopas invite him in to receive your hospitality.  You sit down to eat, and then something peculiar happens!

     The guest becomes the host!  The stranger takes bread, and blesses it, and breaks it, and gives it to you.  And now you know.  Now you KNOW why your heart was burning with joy and hope as you walked together with the stranger and discussed the Bible. 

     THIS WAS NO STRANGER.  THIS IS JESUS!  THIS IS JESUS, AND HE IS ALIVE, NOT DEAD, AND HE HAS COME TO BE WITH YOU! 

     Jesus is alive, and has come to his church, and established it in his crucified and risen glory.  Jesus has come to his church, and has established it on the foundation of his own person, his resurrected person, and has come to be with his church in the breaking of bread and in the breaking open of the Word of God.

     Jesus is alive, and he has come to be with Cleopas and his companion–and is that you with them?  I think I see myself there! 

     And there we are, now–his church–walking together, walking together full of his risen glory, running together, running back to Jerusalem to join the others, and tell them, “We’ve seen him!  He’s alive!  He’s appeared to us in the Word and the meal!”

     There we are, walking together–here we are, walking together, walking together with Jesus, his church–you and I and all God’s people–forgiven, renewed, fed by Word and Sacrament, and sent into the world to proclaim and live the news!  Here we are, in God’s church.  In fact, we are the church!  We are the people called, the people gathered around Word and Sacrament, the people sent, walking together, into the world full of the power and life of Jesus.

     And, a little later in our story, in the book of Acts, we’ll be there again.  We’re together–really together–together for worship, to hear God’s Word, to break bread, to pray for the church and the world, and to offer our gifts for the care of the poor.  It seems like we’ve joined in the song of the ancient Psalmist–grateful for God’s deliverance, we burst out singing:

¹²What shall I return to the LORD
for all his bounty to me?
¹³I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the LORD,
¹⁴I will pay my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people.
¹⁸I will pay my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people,
¹⁹in the courts of the house of the LORD,
in your midst, O Jerusalem.
Praise the LORD!

Rescued and redeemed and made whole in Jesus, what can we do but, walking together joining together,  offer God our best in praise and witness and service to others!

     All because of the bread.  All because of the bread, and the Word, and the One who is present in them.

     Major Charles Winchester, one of the doctors in the hit TV series “M*A*S*H,” hid behind a sophisticated shell in a futile effort to ward off the pain and emptiness and suffering and death that daily haunt him as he lives amid the horror of war.  In despair at one point, perplexed by the mystery of death, Winchester abandons the operating room and goes to visit the wounded as they’re first brought to the “M*A*S*H*” unit.  He is called to the bedside of a dying soldier.  The soldier says, “I can’t see anything.  Hold my hand.”  Winchester replies, “I am.”  “I’m dying,” the soldier moans, and the doctor’s suppressed questions come to the surface, “Can you see anything?  Feel anything?  I have to know.”  The dying soldier doesn’t answer those questions but, instead, simply says, “I smell bread.”[1]

     And what does that mean?  The soldier is going home.  Home where there is warmth and comfort.  Does anything warm us, after all, quite like the aroma of fresh bread in the oven?

     And Jesus gives us bread.  Gives us himself.  And when he does, we are home.  Home in God’s church.  Home as we walk together into the world, to witness and serve, in gratitude.

     Together.  Walking together.  To give each other strength and courage.  To remind each other that we are fed by Jesus, fed by Word and Sacrament.  To support each other as we live and proclaim that good news in the world.

     “Walking together”–-not in despair now, but in hope and joy, filled with the presence of Christ!  Walking together, as brothers and sisters, to announce good news to the world!

     “Walking together”–did you know that’s the literal translation of one of those odd Greek words the church uses: “synod”.  Walking together with millions in our own faith tradition.  Walking together with 2 billion Christians of all traditions throughout the world.  We are God’s church and we’re walking together!  Walking together to support, strengthen, and encourage one another, to do together what we cannot do in isolation.  Walking together to tell the world that in Word and Sacrament, Christ is present, and gives himself to the world for its healing and peace.  Walking together, as the late French philosopher Albert Camus–though not a Christian–said so aptly:

            Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow.

            Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead.

            Walk beside me and be my friend.[2]

And as we walk together, there is One in the lead–one named Jesus–who is trustworthy and can be followed with confidence and joy.  In him, we are made church and invited to walk together–not only as friends, but as brothers and sisters in the Lord.

     Walking together.  Following Christ.  Gathered around Word and Sacrament, our hearts burning as we open the Scripture, our eyes opened as we share bread.  Expressing our gratitude to God by witnessing to God’s goodness and power and serving God’s world in the name of Christ.

     Walking together, following Christ, nourished by Christ, we are God’s church.  We are God’s church.  We are God’s church.  We are God’s church.

                                                                                                AMEN.

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[1].Brett Blair, ed., Sermon Illustrations for April 6, 2008, adapted from George Bass, The Tree, the Tomb and the Trumpet: Sermons for Lent and Easter, CSS Publishing.

[2].Quoted in Brett Blair, ed., Sermon Illustrations for April 6, 2008.