St. John’s United Church of Christ
April 6, 2008
A Sermon by the Rev. John Krueger
Just a Simple Meal? Luke 24:13-35
This past week I attended a meeting of the American Association of Homes and Services for the Aging in Washington, D.C. This gathering of people committed to caring for retirement aged people includes church-related people like me, serving on the Board of United Church Homes, our Altenheim here in Indianapolis being one of our six full care facilities, as well as for-profit communities all over this country.
On Tuesday we spent the day on Capitol Hill, visiting with some of our Congressional representatives and their legislative aides. This was not just a casual set of conversations but our attempt to promote adequate funding for housing for senior citizens, especially low-income senior citizens. I can tell you that was not an easy sell, with huge federal budget deficits looming and more organized, intense lobbying efforts by others for scarce federal dollars.
One of the interesting parts of that day was eating lunch in the Longworth Congressional Office Building. What a crowd of people, from groups of school children on a scheduled field-trip to families spending time on their spring break to lobbyists and Congressional aides to visitors from all over the world.
We were all there for one reason, to eat a quick, affordable lunch in the middle of a busy day. We scrambled to find space at crowded tables, pushed together by the sheer necessity to find a place. And the most pressing need was a chair, any chair, a place to sit down and catch our breath.
This past Thursday a number of us gathered here for Café at the Corner, the chance to eat together and the opportunity to provide a meal for members of our wider community. Some of our men met here for breakfast yesterday morning, a meal organized by Ed McClain that may turn into a monthly event. Next Sunday the Bell Choir will prepare the noon meal for us, another opportunity to gather about tables and share food and conversation. Food Hospitality has been a primary ingredient for human beings for a long, long time, and this resurrection story from Luke’s Gospel offers us some insights into this universal practice.
On the afternoon of that first Easter Sunday, two disciples of Jesus were walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus. One is named, Cleopas, the other is not named, and so it is likely this disciple was a woman, perhaps even the wife of Cleopas. They are rehearsing with amazement the events of Easter morning, the visit by the women, the empty tomb, the confirmation of the empty tomb by Peter and others, and the challenge of making sense of all of this. A stranger begins to walk with them, someone who converses with them and explains how what has happened is consistent with the scriptures.
The stranger is the Risen Christ, but they do not recognize him until they eat together and then he is gone. They then hurry back to Jerusalem to report to the eleven disciples what has happened to them.
There are a number of theories as to why they failed to recognize the Risen Christ. Since Emmaus was west of Jerusalem some suggest they were walking into the sunset, partially blinding them, and therefore they didn’t see him clearly. Others suggest they are so engrossed in their own sense of loss, so focused on themselves, that they fail to see the Risen Christ.
As I said on Easter Sunday, perhaps the Risen Christ is not the exact likeness of the Jesus of Nazareth they had known. Perhaps the Risen Christ can look like a common cemetery gardener as he did to Mary, and here, like a fellow traveler on the road. Perhaps he can look like anyone, like you, like me. Perhaps the Risen Christ looks just those he died for, was raised for, to show that all of God’s children qualify for inclusion in God’s love.
Note that the time of recognition is not when the Risen Christ is teaching, not when “he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” No, it was while they were eating, “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…”
Although this description of that Emmaus meal sounds a lot like words we use when we celebrate the Lord’s Supper, I think we need to broaden our interpretation. Yes, our expectations are heightened when we gather about the Lord’s Table, the Table of Grace, and share common elements that become sacred elements to us. But the Emmaus meal was just a common Sunday evening meal, and yet it became as sacred as the Last Supper in the Upper Room.
When we were growing up, the most special meal of the week was Sunday noon dinner. Usually Mom would put a roast in the oven as we left for church and the smell of that meal would greet us when we walked into the house after church. On a number of occasions we would have guests on Sunday noon. That is when new boy friends or girl friends were subjected to the first set of family approvals or disapprovals. If you were invited for Sunday noon dinner, in the dining room, you were invited into the very heart of the family.
That was Sunday dinner, and after cleaning up the dishes, Mom usually closed the kitchen for the day. She was finished, and we were on our own for supper. That could be left-overs, pop corn, do-it-yourself sandwiches, whatever we wanted to fix for ourselves, for Mom was off duty, on holiday.
Perhaps then it would have been better for the Emmaus experience to have happened on Sunday noon, around a dining room table, when the big family gathering was taking place. But no, it was Sunday evening, so think of sandwiches on paper plates, left-overs from dinner, an informal gathering about the kitchen table. It was around the kitchen table, the Sunday evening meal, that their eyes were opened, that they understood the mighty acts of God, and that the Risen Christ became real to them.
One of the great losses in many families is the common practice of eating together. Busy schedules often mean catching a bite here or there, at the counter, standing up, quick and easy and onward. This church, like most churches, finds many opportunities to eat together, whether it be whole meals, or just desserts, or perhaps coffee and cookies. Good for us, for we are Emmaus people who need to be together so that in the breaking of bread we may more fully live our ways into God’s ways. Table Hospitality is our way of being together, old friends, new comers, strangers, even the estranged, eating together.
Pat and I planned an Open House for the people in our neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon after Christmas. We sent out invitations, hand-delivered by me, and had plenty of goodies to go around. Two people who have had some unpleasant past history showed up at the same time. I knew they were not all that fond of each other but there was not much I could do but observe. It took a while as people moved from room to room before the two were “stuck” with each other. And it happened: they talked to each other!
They talked about eating places when they were growing up, in Greenfield and Cumberland and Indianapolis. They talked about people they had both known back then and since, and about some changes in the community with newcomers like us. And they even shook hands as they left!
Just a Simple Meal? Not really, not necessarily. The Risen Christ, the reconciling presence of God, is always among us, waiting to bless us. Your family meal, our planned church meals, every time we pause to nourish our bodies we should expect the Risen Christ, our unseen but ever-present honored guest.