Saturday 20 April 2013

Evensong Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter

Almost every story in the Bible has meaning that has been lost over the years, things that didn’t get taught and things people thought was unimportant.


The two disciples on the road to Emmaus is no exception to this.

Emmaus was a famous place – In 169 BC Antiochus Epiphanes of Syria besieged and captured Jerusalem.  It was three years before the Jews could regroup; but, under Judas Maccabaeus, they launched their fight for freedom.  In 165 BC the Syrian commander detached 5000 infantry and 1000 cavalry from his main forces to travel by night and to ambush the Jews.  Judas found out and marched against the main Syrian camp at Emmaus - Judas said to the troops. “Remember how our ancestors were saved at the Red Sea when Pharaoh was pursuing them.  Now let us call on heaven, to remember his covenant with our ancestors and to destroy this army confronting us today.  Then all the Gentiles will know that there is one who ransoms and saves Israel.”  Judas’s army won the day.

The two disciples, heading for Emmaus, were heading for the site of the ancient victory.  Perhaps Luke imagines a glimmer of hope in their darkness?  Where God had acted before, he might do the same again. 

The disciples linked Jesus with Moses, and Moses was linked to Maccabaeus – In their minds he was from the same stable.   In Luke it says that Jesus was “a prophet mighty in word and deed….and we were hoping that this was the one who was to ransom Israel”. 

This is also how the trouble started in Holy Week.  You probably remember me saying before that it is difficult to understand why the crowds turned from the “hosannas” of Palm Sunday to the “crucify him” of Good Friday.  And why Jesus rode into town on a donkey and not a horse.  With the benefit of hindsight, I suppose they could have seen that this was a statement to the people – Jesus is saying “I am not Judas Maccabeaus”  He was not bringing political liberation, He was bringing the better liberation, salvation.

The disciples on the road to Emmaus have hope.  They wait for things to be better in the world.  Despite all that Jesus had told them their hopes of a political kingdom endure – a sort of King Jesus in the palace idea.  They had been told that the Kingdom of God (according to Luke) cannot be watched for, and they won’t be able to say “here it is” or “there it is”, it will be in them and amongst them. 

On the evening at Emmaus, they were still in the dark until Jesus broke bread with them – in that moment they see who Jesus really is.
Perhaps they understood what they must do, and why the last few days seemed to be terrible.

It’s strange that as soon as they understood, they went about their work and had huge success.  From the few disciples we are now significantly bigger as a church – some say as many as 2.1 billion people in 34,000 separate Christian groups.

So what about this journey from Emmaus for people of faith?  After the crucifixion and the resurrection, we have re-grouped taken the message to the world.

For me this means that we are living in the world, but we are also apart from the world.  Looking at things differently, and proclaiming our faith in many ways.
We need to be different in what we say and do – caring for the poor and the outcast as Christ did. 

So how do we look different?  How do people recognise us.

I always like to see people wearing crosses, crucifixes and other symbols of faith, because I like to believe that they are ‘standing apart’ from the crowd – making a declaration that they are one of the army that re-grouped in Emmaus, and marched on the world.

The truth is though, that most people who wear crosses aren’t religious, I don’t mind.  I like to pretend that they are ‘one of us’.

I read the church times a few weeks ago, the question was asked “Why do clergy generally wear black and not bright colours?” I waited patiently for the answers from well meaning clever clergy to be printed, and I was disappointed with the first few results, speaking about sin, denial and being miserable.  Then to my delight and surprise, The Revd Paul Wilkin from Essex gave the best answer.

He wrote that the late Johnny Cash the American Country singer-songwriter (and Christian) known for wearing only black said;

“Well, you wonder why I always dress in black.  Why you never see bright colours on my back, and why does my appearance seem to have a sombre tone.  Well, there’s a reason for the things I have on.
I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down, livin’ in the hopeless, hungry side of town, I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime, but is there because he’s a victim of the times.
I wear the black for those who never read, or listened to the words that Jesus said, about the road to happiness through love and charity.  Why?  You’d think He’s talking to you and me.”

Johnny Cash was saying that he needed to live in the world and still be apart from the world.  He was saying that all our lives need to be a statement about those who have no voice.

Whatever the world does to us, we will still be part of the unstoppable force that regrouped after the resurrection to plan for world domination – not in the name of power, profit or ideology, but in the name of that great liberation, that excellent freedom – salvation.

Whether you wear black to remind yourself and the world of the poor and downtrodden, or whether you wear a crucifix or cross, a dove a fish or a if you have a multicolour tattoo, wear it with pride, because it speaks of your belonging to the church of God, the army of the Prince of Peace.

I was looking for some modern quotes about Christianity, and I found one that was quite interesting.
Sam Pascoe said;
"Christianity started out in Palestine as a fellowship; it moved to Greece and became a philosophy; it moved to Italy and became an institution; it moved to Europe and became a culture; it moved to America and became an enterprise."

I would like to be able to add – and it came to Wales and started another worldwide revolution of justice and peace.  I might be a dreamer, but if we don’t think big….well, it might as well never have happened.
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