But Monday's Coming--April 27, 2020

But Monday's Coming--April 27, 2020

"Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, 'What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?' They stood still, looking sad..." [Luke 24:13-17]

I know this isn't the end of the story.  And yes, I know that usually, when someone points out "Hey, this isn't the end of the story," it's because they want to jump ahead to the part that is yet to be told.  The kids get scared in the middle of the story, so you skip past the bit with the wolf right to the happy ending with the woodcutter.  (Or they start to yawn with boredom in the story, so you skip ahead past the exposition to the next exciting bit of swashbuckling or magical happenings.)

We church folk do it, too.  The quintessential case in point is the slogan, "It's Friday... but Sunday's coming!" that you sometimes will see posted on social media or church signs when folks don't want to dwell on the scandal, the sadness, and the cruelty of God on a cross.  At its best, that motto, "...but Sunday's coming!" is a reminder that death doesn't get the last word.  But when we get sloppy, lazy, or scared, that becomes away of fast-forwarding through the parts we don't like, or the elements of the story that make us squirm, and to skip ahead to the happy ending.  At its worst, it shows up in the terrible practice of skipping Good Friday altogether and jumping right from a happy parade celebration on Palm Sunday to smiling happy angel faces (no weeping women, of course--they are edited out of the picture, too) on Easter Sunday.  If that isn't the way popular religion tries to handle the cross, I'll eat my hat.

But for a moment, stay with me here (to borrow a phrase from later in the scene).  Stay with me in this part of the story we often call the Walk to Emmaus, before we get to the realization that the seemingly uninformed stranger really has been Jesus all along.  Stay with me in this moment before the happy ending, before Cleopas and his companion (wife? roommate?) realize that their hearts were burning within them while Jesus spoke, and before the famous line from the last line of this episode, "The Lord is risen indeed!"

Stay with me to consider what it means that, before Cleopas and company are ready to believe it, Jesus shows up anyhow.  Stay here for a moment and let's allow it to sink in that the risen Jesus neither waits for an invitation nor demands a sure enough faith before he will make an appearance.  Let's just let it percolate through our theological systems that Jesus invites himself into the situation first because the two travelers on the road are too scared, too hopeless, too dense, or too heartbroken to ever dare to believe that the rabbi was alive again without help.

We usually get it backwards, we religious folks.  We tend to think (and often put this into pamphlets, tracts, and best-selling titles in the "Christianity" section) that Jesus is more than glad to come into someone's life, provided that they (1) take the first step of inviting him into their lives, (2) can correctly and completely articulate a faith-statement of correct propositional statements about Jesus, and (3) are now going to leave behind all their doubts and sadness in exchange for a permanent smile that does wonders for the church's P.R.  But that is exactly NOT how this story goes.  

No, instead, Jesus meets the travelers on the road exactly when they can't believe the resurrection news, and he breaks into their conversation to help them understand what has happened without being invited first.  Jesus takes the first step when we are too chicken-hearted to take it ourselves.  Jesus opens our minds and clarifies our vision when we do not see clearly or understand what to believe.  And the fact that these two travelers are on the verge of hopelessness--even though they have already heard the women's report that the tomb was empty--doesn't prevent Jesus from sharing their walk and their heartache.

And this is what gives me such hope when I am on the verge of hopelessness, too:  Jesus shows up even for folks who know the Easter message but are still trudging through despair.  This story is set on the evening of that first Easter Sunday, and as Luke tells it, Cleopas has heard the report from Mary and the other women that an angel of God vouched for Jesus' resurrection. That means, the hopelessness of Cleopas and his companion isn't a matter of a lack of information or up-to-dat news.  They have come through the news of Easter morning and are still despondent--and now they are running out of daylight on Sunday, and Monday's coming.  But Jesus makes a special trip to see them... and he stays with them to lay the groundwork that will enable them to believe.  And he does it even though they already had the "news" that Jesus was alive.

Jesus meets us where we are at. He walks with us for the journey we are actually taking--not one prescribed by where a religious pamphlet tells us we are supposed to be.  And he makes it possible for us to face returning to life on the other side of Sunday.  He knows that Monday's coming, too, and that we need to be prepared to face how we live in a world where it sure looks like death is still calling the shots.

So yeah, there's more to the story here--and more even than just the happy ending when the risen Christ is revealed "in the breaking of the bread."  There will be Sunday night, and Monday, and its night, too, and a whole new week and lifetime beyond that.  And not all of that will be sunshine and gumdrops.  In fact, a lot of it will be kind of heartbreaking.  (As the wise line from The Princess Bride puts it, "Life is pain, your highness--anyone who says differently is selling something.")  But what lets us face this day is not simply a one-time message, but a Christ who keeps on showing up and inviting himself into our heartbreaks to help us sort through them, to walk with us in them, and to invite himself into the mess in our minds before we have had the wisdom or courage to ask him in.

This is really where all the "You have to ask Jesus into your heart first" stuff out there just comes completely unglued.  Because if you actually read the stories, it's just the opposite.  We keep carrying our fear and sorrow, which keeps us from ever daring to ask Jesus in the first place, and he just invites himself into our mess and goes to work on us.  And because we know he is willing to meet us in our confusion, grief, and fear, we know he will keep on being with us when Sunday turns to Monday again and we have to head back into the regular routines and expectations of the day.

So, to be sure, there's more to the story.  Some of it will have a happy ending moment on Sunday. But Monday's coming, too--and now that it is here, the same Jesus who met us in our fear and sadness on the way will keep walking with us through it all on this day, too.

Lord Jesus, keep showing up in our midst, even before we have invited you in--so that we will recognize you, listen to you, and let you kindle our hearts in this moment.