Rev. Christine Dudley

Scripture: Luke 24: 13-35: Road to Emmaus

Let us pause for a moment as we hold in prayer words from the Iona community:

Stay with us, O Christ,
since the day is far spent and the night is coming;
kindle our hearts on the way,
that we may recognize you in the scriptures,
in the breaking of bread, and in each other.
Amen

Many of you know that I began this week in Vancouver. I was participating in the United Church's BC Conference Interview Board. I began serving on the Interview board last Fall and although I've been affected by the increase in busyness and responsibility that it requires, there have also been some unexpected benefits. In reading the reams of information that a potential candidate for ministry in the United Church has compiled, in compliance with the lists of questions and information required by the Interview Board, I have often been reminded of the commitment and tenacity that is necessary to follow a call to paid accountable ministry. It is, however, in the interview process that I have been most inspired and hopeful about the future of the United Church. Shining through the anxiety, which most often accompanies those being interviewed, is the depth of faith and the strength of commitment required to answer a call to serve in ministry. Experiencing this has helped me to rediscover the importance of the role of the wider church community in walking together in faith, supporting and guiding each other as we hold each other accountable and encourage the appropriate sharing of the spiritual gifts that we all have to offer.

I remember well the interviews at the various stages in my candidacy process. The annual check-in meetings with the Presbytery Education and Students Committee were always interesting. They'd ask questions like, "What biblical story most accurately reflects your life right now?". I always disliked that question fearing that the committee might read too much into my answer. For instance, I never chose the story of Moses wandering around in the wilderness for forty years trying to find his way, or the disciples panicking in the boat on a storm tossed sea, even though I'm sure there were times when those stories did reflect my experiences as a theological student. Another question I disliked was, "If you were stranded on a desert island what three books would you choose to have with you?" My number one answer, the Bible (of course). I don't remember what my other two choices were but I'm sure they would be different now. And, even though the Bible was an obvious choice given the circumstances, it was also an honest answer. If I could only have one book that could bring me comfort, give me courage in the face of adversity, that contains a wealth of wisdom and stories that can be read with new eyes each time, the Bible is the book I would choose. And, if I could only choose one story, have one page of the Bible, it would be the page with the story of the Road to Emmaus which we heard this morning.

The Road to Emmaus story is the longest story in the Easter narrative. It is also a story of faith which is rich in imagery and meaning. When I read this story I can identify my own journey of faith within the experiences of the travellers on the road. They are not alone. They travel together and are companions on the long journey home. They share their sorrows and their stories as they travel together. When they meet a stranger on the road they invite him to walk with them. They travel together many miles and they speak with the stranger about the scriptures and their experiences. And then, in a turning point in the story, when the stranger "walks ahead as if he were going on" (Luke 24: 28) the travellers "urge him strongly" to stay with them, because it is almost evening and the day is nearly over. That gracious and generous invitation of hospitality - "come and stay at our house, it's not safe to walk alone in the dark" — is not a lukewarm invitation but a heartfelt caring for the stranger. The scripture says they "urged" him strongly. In our common language we would probably say they insisted that he accept their hospitality. And, when the stranger was at their home, at table with them, he "took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them" and their eyes and their hearts were opened and they recognized the face of Christ in the stranger's guise. They recognized Christ in the sharing of their lives with each other and the sharing of the staff of life, the symbols of their faith, with a stranger. And, as I have so often found true in my life, they realized most vividly that they had been part of a sacred experience when they reflected back on their time together. And, in this moment of recognition, they said, "were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking with us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" (Luke 24:32) Perhaps most importantly, their response to their experience of the risen Christ was not just the wonder and amazement that replaced their confusion and grief but their action in leaving their home, their place of comfort and rest, and travelling back to share the good news with others.

I have never been personally concerned about whether this story happened in a literal-historical way or if it is simply an important story of faith. As a story of faith, it contains wisdom and truth that goes far deeper than any literal truth. I am not discounting the possibility that the story happened exactly the way it is recorded, I am just saying that the importance of the story, for me, is not predicated on whether it is historically accurate or not. The truth of the story in my own experience of faith is what matters to me.

In reviewing my notebooks from various conferences, this week, I came across a few interesting comments about the Road to Emmaus story. At Epiphany Explorations in 2006, Herbert O'Driscoll talked about the road to Emmaus as being the road we all take when something awful has happened to us and we need to run away and have some time to be alone in a safe place. The travellers on the road were doing exactly that, he said, having experienced a massive loss that was so great they couldn't comprehend it they turned away toward home. After experiencing the risen Christ they turned away again to return to their true home in Christian community.

John Dominic Crossan says the key verse in this story is that the travellers "invite Jesus in". Crossan says, "the risen Christ is with you when you study the scriptures but it's only when you invite the stranger in that you experience the risen Christ. You will not find Jesus until you take the stranger in because you are sharing God's food, and abundance, not your own." (Living The Questions 2)

The most meaningful, and memorable quote that I have ever heard regarding this gospel story is also from Dom Crossan:

Emmaus road never happened.
Emmaus road always happens.

To illustrate the power of the veracity of stories of faith I'll draw again on my own life experience. My call to ministry slowly progressed over the years without my recognition that I was travelling on that road. When, at last, there was a conscious recognition of my call to ministry it happened in a rather unremarkable way. To make a long story short, I was attending a program at Naramata Centre when I came out of a darkened room into the bright light of a sunny day and the thought flashed through my mind that I should become a diaconal minister. I laughed out loud and said, "You've got to be kidding!" but as we all know that wasn't the end of the story. Fast forward in time, twelve years later, when I was at home (the home of my childhood) caring for my father who was dying. It was clear to me that my role was as daughter and caregiver and that Dad needed his own minister to offer spiritual care. With Dad's blessing I asked his minister, Jim Short, to come and pay a pastoral visit so Dad could have a chance to talk about any important spiritual issues he might want to talk about. Jim and Dad had a private hour to themselves and when Jim left I asked Dad if it had been a good visit. Dad answered, "Yes, I told him about your call to ministry." I was speechless and amazed that, shortly before his death, my father would choose to talk about my call to ministry. In the pause, caused by my surprise, Dad said, "You were at Naramata Centre. You were down at the lake, walking along the dock, when you had the profound feeling that Christ was walking beside you calling you to ministry." He looked at me, as my eyes filled with tears and said, "At least that's how I remember the story." I opened my mouth and then closed it. I took a moment to breathe and then said, "Yes, that's exactly how it happened."

My father, with his own understanding of the Christian journey and his own experiences of faith, retold my simple call story with the language and imagery of faith. He didn't ask me if he'd gotten it right — he knew he had. I was so moved by the power of his faith in seeing the mystery and power of Christ's presence in my life that I knew with certainty that his story was an accurate account of my call to ministry.

I imagine that's how stories were told and retold by Jesus' disciples. Stories which were shared with the voice and heart of faith. Then, as now, details vary but the core truth always remains intact; whether we recognize him or not, Christ walks beside us on our journey of faith, step by step, moment by moment. It is often with others, who share our common faith, that we recognize Christ in the midst of the everyday common occurrences of our lives.

In our community of faith we may not always recognize the face of Christ in our stories and in our lives. But, recognize him or not, Christ is present in story and in spirit: in sacrament and prayer; in the songs and stories of our faith tradition; in the sharing of our own stories of faith; in the abundance and challenges of life in community; and in the simple ways in which we respond with faith and love to each other, to the strangers in our midst, and to our world.

I'll end with some thoughts from Seasons of the Spirit:

We live ordinary lives.
We go about our routines each day.
And sometimes we gather, as Christian community,
to celebrate our common faith.
We sing. We tell stories. We pray.
We remember Christ -
how he calls us, feeds us,
and sends us out to care for the world -
and in all of this
we see the face of the risen Christ
in each other,
in the strength of this community,
and in the ministries we go forth to enact in his name.
(Seasons of the Spirit, p.95, Lent/Easter 2004)