Hebrew Testament & Gospel for Fourth Sunday in Lent 14 March 2021

Numbers 21:4-9        From Mount Hor the Israelites set out by the way to the Red Sea, to go around the land of Edom; but the people became impatient on the way. The people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.” Then the Lord sent poisonous serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many Israelites died. The people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned by speaking against the Lord and against you; pray to the Lord to take away the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people. And the Lord said to Moses, “Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.” So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.

John 3:14-21        Jesus said, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”

Reflection        Poor Moses. After all the plagues he handled  to lead God’s people out of Egypt (bloody water, frogs, lice, flies, boils, hail, locusts), instead of being grateful for their newfound freedom the people “become impatient,” complain about their miserable food (who wants manna? we want meat), and “speak against Moses and God.” The poisonous serpents of faithlessness and unconscionable complaining corrupt the hearts and minds of the people Israel and they suffer in the poison of their own protests.

We know how this plays out. Someone whines and grumbles about the way things are. Pretty soon a chorus gathers around the complaint. Social media gets the message and ignites a match. And in a timeless second a protest is roaring with people swallowing their own poison and dying in the wilderness. This is the story of Moses and the moaning Israelites. This is the story of the fickle crowds in Jerusalem demanding, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” on the fateful day for Jesus. This is the story of our country today, with volleys of revolts erupting from the extreme right and flaring back from the far left. 

As if standing in a pit of poisonous snakes, we are split into feverish corners until a crowd is bent on an arc toward destruction. From the ten thousand feet above the ground perspective we can no longer distinguish one side from the other because we are all pointing poison fingers and looking for someone to blame for being stuck between the way things used to be and the promised land. Still, we are not condemned to this agony.

Looking to Moses we discover a way out of this hopeless hostility. Praying on behalf of the Israelites Moses first turns to God then offers the snaky masses something new to look at. Lifting up the bronze serpent Moses invites the cranky crowd to turn their eyes to healing rather than complaining and yearning for yesterdyear.

This was the first time the image of a serpent entwined on a pole enters humanity’s imagination. The Israelites are stuck between Egypt and the promised land, looking with longing backward to the way things used to be until Moses gives them something new to look at. The image of a serpent wrapped around a pole came to be associated with the Greek god Asclepius, the god of healing and medicine.* Today we see the symbol associated with the World Health Organization, The American Medical Association and on the sides of ambulances. What does this perennial symbol have to do with us? I believe it invites us to turn our eyes to healing rather than complaining and yearning for the way things used to be.

Four hundred years after Moses Jesus is still trying to get God’s people to stop protesting and see something new. Much like Moses lifting the serpent in the wilderness Jesus offers himself to be lifted up as something new to look at and be healed. I can almost hear the duet, Moses and Jesus pleading, “People, don’t you see? If you choose to look at the bronze serpent instead of the miserable food and your thirst to arrive at the promised land, if you choose to look at Jesus’ walk through suffering in the company of God, you choose life. You are healed.”

What do we choose to look at? To what do we give our attention?

As social beings in the twenty-first century we can protest forever about our rights; economic, social, cultural, civil and political. We can whip ourselves into frenzies, wag our biting fingers like so many venomous snakes or we can choose to look at something new, something risen from our wilderness journey between the idealized way things used to be and the promised land. Let us not forget, the Israelites were slaves to the Egyptians before Moses led them into the wilderness. Why would they want to go back to that?  Likewise, when we remove our collective rose colored glasses we must confess, our past is not pristine. 

Here is the thing, poisonous protests rise on both sides of the aisle and sing every note on the scale. Since the beginning of the beginning this has been our story. Do we really want to continue suffering in the poison of our own protests? Do we really want to choose death and listen to ourselves speaking against God and Moses and crying “Crucify him?” How many hundreds or thousands of years before we choose to look at something new rising in the wilderness between the way things used to be and the promised land? 

 Today is a turning point in our journey. We are being led out of Egypt, out of the reach of Covid-19 into the wilderness where we will either find or lose ourselves while wandering between the way things used to be and the promised land.  It is time us to open our eyes to see something new. This is a matter of life or death.  

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*  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rod_of_Asclepius

Hebrew Testament text for Labor Day, Sunday 6 September 2020

 

Sirach (Ecclesiasticus) 38:27-32

So it is with every artisan and master artisan 

who labours by night as well as by day;

those who cut the signets of seals,

each is diligent in making a great variety;

they set their heart on painting a lifelike image,

and they are careful to finish their work.

So it is with the smith, sitting by the anvil,

intent on his ironwork;

the breath of the fire melts his flesh,

and he struggles with the heat of the furnace;

the sound of the hammer deafens his ears,

and his eyes are on the pattern of the object.

He sets his heart on finishing his handiwork,

and he is careful to complete its decoration.

So it is with is the potter sitting at his work

and turning the wheel with his feet;

he is always deeply concerned over his products,

and he produces them in quantity.

He moulds the clay with his arm

and makes it pliable with his feet;

he sets his heart on finishing the glazing,

and he takes care in firing the kiln.

All these rely on their hands,

and all are skillful in their own work.

Reflection        The August 31st issue of the New Yorker includes an essay titled, “Survival Story: A New York City bus driver faces a pandemic and an uprising.” (p48-55) Terrence Layne is a fifty one year old bus driver, married father of three, who took advantage of 1980s education programs in prison and has worked his way up to shop steward in the NY City Transit Authority. Tuned in to his colleagues terror of contracting Covid-19, one morning in late March Layne stopped his bus on 116th St, put his phone on the dashboard and recorded this message.  

“Brothers and sisters. I want to thank you all for stepping up and coming to work today and showing what leadership looks like. We are performing an essential and invaluable task. We are not only delivering hospital personnel to their jobs. What about the person who needs dialysis? What about the person who needs regular cancer treatments? … Ordinarily we are not appreciated, not valued… If no one else recognizes you, know that I do.” Layne posted his message to three transit workers Facebook groups. 

Layne explains to the New Yorker interviewer, “ People think of front line workers  - the grocery workers, transit workers, first responders, cops, firefighters - as having helped the city get through it. But that’s not what happened. We helped the city survive it.” 

“Without (the workers) no city can be inhabited…

Yet they are not sought out for the council of the people…”

These wise words, penned by the teacher and philosopher Joshua one hundred and eighty years before the common era, in what we now refer to as the Wisdom of Sirach or Ecclesiasticus, outlive time in their trustworthiness. Joshua’s wisdom points to the value of craftsmen; ordinary people who “labor by night as well as by day. All these (who) rely on their hands, and … are skillful in their own work.”

Is it not interesting, three times in our wisdom text Joshua spotlights the place in which the craftsperson sets her heart?  Artisans “set their heart on painting a lifelike image,” the blacksmith “sets his heart on finishing his handiwork,” and the potter “sets his heart on finishing the glazing.”  The artisan is not setting her heart on becoming a ballerina. The blacksmith is not setting his heart on getting rich and securing his retirement. The potter is not setting his heart on becoming a governor or religious official. 

Living in the way of wisdom each laborer Joshua commends sets their heart on the thing that is right in front of them. Their attentions are not flying on wings of wild imaginings, heading for fantastical places. They are not distracted by arguments of who is right and who is wrong, whether it is more laudable to be a blacksmith or a potter (translate to today, Republican or Democrat).  In the view of wisdom, a person is notable, laudable and esteemed, when they apply the skills they have to the work that is right in front of them. In other words, a person who lives the wayof wisdom consents to who they truly are and applies their skills (their particular gifts and treasure) to the context in which they find themselves.

Today we observe Labor Day, established in the late 19th century by the labor movement to recognize and pay tribute to the often invisible workers who make the United States strong, prosperous and keep her going even in the most titanic times. I believe it is not an overstatement to suggest that the well-being of this country stands on the shoulders of, “All these (who) rely on their hands, and all are skillful in their own work. (Because, as Joshua proclaims) without them no city can be inhabited.” 

The opening collect for Labor Day begins, “Almighty God, you have so linked our lives one with another that all we do affects, for good or ill, all other lives.” This is a sentence worth pondering. “All that we do affects, for good or ill, all other lives.” Terence Layne reminds his colleagues that their decision to show up and drive their bus means that someone gets to their dialysis appointment or can receive their cancer treatment. Nurses, medical assistants and grocery workers can get to work and tend to strangers needs for food and comfort. 

This Labor Day begs us to ask ourselves, “How is my life linked to the people around me? How do my actions effect them, for good or ill? What action will I take today aimed at what is right?”

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Gospel text for Sunday 21 June 2020

Matthew 10.24-39        Jesus said to the twelve disciples, “A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!

“So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.

“Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.

For I have come to set a man against his father, 

and a daughter against her mother, 

and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; 

and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.

Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

Reflection    Jaundiced air envelops the scene. A barren desert scape blown dry by lethal winds bearing dusty devils brings no consolation. The majesty of mountains that usually glorify this desolation is shrouded beneath a burial cloak of black and orange smoke crowned with ashen billows. 

“Oh God, what is happening to our world? I am driving through a post apocalyptic movie set. Everywhere I look the world is on fire. Not only the Bighorn fire in front of me but also the Sawtooth and Mangum fires at my back. Not only forest fires but also viral fires leaping from unsuspecting host to host, inciting disease and dealing death. Not only Covid-19 but also protesters and provocateurs, champions of change inciting protectors of the status quo. O God, this moment moans with pain, pain so great we are all groaning.” 

Rapt in this apocalyptic apprehension while driving from Phoenix to Tucson an audible groan escaped my gut riding a river of tears. This is world pain, weltschmerz, a great German word that speaks to the collective pain experienced during times of extended conflict and transition. Today the pain I feel is greater than my own. 

I groan with the many blameless police as well as their several brutal colleagues, for the pain that inflames all of them.

I groan with the peaceful protesters calling for an end to ethnic violence as well as their     agitated provocateurs, for the pain that inflames all of them.

I groan with the conscientious folk sacrificing their pleasures to cut short Covid-19 as well as with those who due to need or desire exercise their right to act as they choose, for the pain that inflames all of them.

I groan with all creatures, the earth and the air, for the pain that inflames all of them.

James Baldwin, an African American novelist, was one of the twentieth century’s greatest writers especially known for his essays on the black experience in the United States. Baldwin writes, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

Driving from Phoenix to Tucson I stumbled into everything I have been afraid to face; the depth and breadth of pain that is inflaming every person, group, institution, government and country today. I fear for our way of life. I fear that we cannot breath and be who we are. I am afraid to open my mind and my heart to consciously experience the depths of this personal and collective pain; weltschmerz. 

How are we to be with this pain? When the world as we have known it is replaced by an apocalyptic movie set do we welcome the pain, anger, resentment and confusion as  invitations to venture deep inside ourselves and experience Divine wisdom hidden within? Probably not our first go to. If we are honest we are more likely to eat, drink, do drugs, binge watch Netflix or even meditate seeking something pleasurable to avoid the strong emotions.  When we have no idea what is going on or how things are going to turn out, do we welcome this as an opportunity for something new and better to emerge? or do look for someone or something to blame, or make ourselves the guilty ones?

When we shut ourselves off from experiencing reality as it is, we disconnect our selves from wisdom, which is the Holy Spirit present with us. When we are disconnected Jesus’ words make no sense. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Jesus brings a sword because we need it to poke and to prod us, to unmask the ways we run from reality. 

Jesus brings a sword to uncover our preference to look for someone to blame (including ourselves), rather than welcome the discomfort of our anxiety, fear, resentment and uncertainty.

Jesus brings a sword to vanquish our desire to recreate the way things were rather than wait in uncertainty for something new to be conceived. 

Jesus brings a sword to turn us around to face ourselves and the fullness of our humanity.  And I recoil.

I recoil because I feel vulnerable. I feel vulnerable because there is a soft spot in my belly that churns as I live through the desolating apocalypse of mysterious virus, insidious fires, protests and provocateurs, violence and threats of more. I feel vulnerable because there is a soft spot in my heart where I am connected to every person, plant and place. This soft spot is the fullness of my humanity, the tender site of of divine presence with me that weeps with every burnt twig and mourning mother. 

This is the place I am loath to face because the spring of living water that Jesus brings there bears not only his incomprehensible peace but also every droplet of world pain. Still James Baldwin’s words echo in my soul, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.” 

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Psalm for Sunday the 17 of May 2020

Psalm 66.7-18

Bless our God, O peoples,

   let the sound of his praise be heard, 

who has kept us among the living,

   and has not let our feet slip. 

For you, O God, have tested us;

   you have tried us as silver is tried. 

You brought us into the net;

   you laid burdens on our backs; 

you let people ride over our heads;

   we went through fire and through water;

yet you have brought us out to a spacious place. 

I will come into your house with burnt-offerings;

   I will pay you my vows, 

those that my lips uttered

   and my mouth promised when I was in trouble. 

I will offer to you burnt-offerings of fatlings,

   with the smoke of the sacrifice of rams;

I will make an offering of bulls and goats.

Come and hear, all you who fear God,

   and I will tell what he has done for me. 

I cried aloud to him,

   and he was extolled with my tongue. 

If I had cherished iniquity in my heart,

   the Lord would not have listened.

Reflection        Friday morning I received a text, “Got an email from you this morning that looks different. Should we talk?” Having no recall of sending an email to this person, I quickly visited the “sent” folder on my computer and thankfully discovered that I had not. A follow up phone call confirmed, once again the cunning hackers who stole my contacts a year ago have sprung into their shady swindles. By noon five congregants let me know they too received malicious emails, feigning to be me, asking for their discrete help so that I could give money to folks who have been dealing with Covid-19. 

This was not my best moment. I felt “pushed to my very limit, road tested inside and out, driven to hell and back again.” My thoughts were anything but kind and generous. Savage and murderous would be more accurate. “How dare these blank blank people prey on the precious relationship of trust and good will between me and the church?” Every cell and space of my being strained to the psalmists words, “O God, you have proved us; * you have tried us just as silver is tried. You brought us into the snare;  you laid heavy burdens upon our backs. You let enemies ride over our heads; we went through fire and water.” Really, God, are we not enduring enough? Is not Covid-19 enough? Do we really need these contemptible criminals fleecing our faith and good will?

Then I caught myself sounding a lot like Job. You know the story. Job is a man of grand slam success and faithfulness. With ten children, thousands of sheep, camels, oxen and donkeys, he is an admired businessman, beloved employer, devoted father whom even God describes saying, there is “no one like him on earth, blameless and upright.” (Job 1.8)  God’s favor ignites the ire of the Satan (here it helps to recall we are talking about a tale told in the Ancient Near East where stories of wars between good and evil were ubiquitous). Satan provokes a contest protesting, “You (God) have blessed the work of (Job’s) hands, and his possessions have increased in the land.” (Job 1.10) Which is to say, “Why wouldn’t Job be faithful to you, he has everything imaginable. But, if Job lost everything, “he would curse you God to your face.” (Job 1.11) God accepts the wager, tells Satan to go ahead, take everything away from Job except his life. 

Job looses every evidence of his external success; children, livestock, business, friends and community. Although Job insists he is innocent, he never speaks out against God which really infuriates Satan, the enemy who challenges God. “People will give up anything to save their own life. But if you make Job suffer in his flesh…then “he will curse you to your face.’” Betting that Job will persist in his integrity, God accepts the second wager and empowers the Satan to inflict life threatening suffering on Job. And indeed, though his body is covered with oozing boils and Job sends himself into exile sitting on an ash heap, when his wife confronts him saying, “Do you still persist in your integrity? Curse God and die,” Job endures saying to his maligned wife, “Shall we receive the good at the hand of God and not receive the bad?” 

Which brings us back to today’s psalm.  “You let enemies ride over our heads;

we went through fire and water; * but you brought us out into a place of refreshment.”

Now let me be crystal clear. Neither the ancient wisdom tale of Job nor the words of our psalmist are meant to paint God as the grand puppet master, pulling our strings in a pre-scripted theatre production. Let me suggest instead they are meant to inform our relationship with God. Even more to the point, no matter the good or the ill we encounter along the twisted way we call life, God is with us. The question is, are we with God, no matter what? Do we face life with the integrity of Job?

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Epistle for the 5th Sunday of Easter 10 May 2020

1 Peter 2:2-10

Like newborn infants, long for the pure, spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow into salvation— if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.

Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For it stands in scripture:

“See, I am laying in Zion a stone,

a cornerstone chosen and precious;

and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.”

To you then who believe, he is precious; but for those who do not believe,

“The stone that the builders rejected

has become the very head of the corner”,and

“A stone that makes them stumble,

and a rock that makes them fall.”

They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do.

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

Once you were not a people,

but now you are God’s people;

once you had not received mercy,

but now you have received mercy.

Reflection       Acknowledging God as the rock, the foundation of our lives requires a reordering of everything else.

By choosing God we commit ourselves to turn away from competing loyalties.  In Biblical times these competing loyalties or false gods were named Baal, Molech, Ashtoreth, Chemosh, Artemis, and others. Our ancient ancestors carved these gods in wood and molded them in gold. These were the pagan gods in competition with YHWH, the One God of Israel.

Today our false gods have names like  money, religion, politics, rights and freedom, sex, sports, celebrity, drugs, add your own to the list. I believe the idol in position number one is, self.  How do we know these are false gods? Because false gods are things that occupy an inordinate amount of our attention, action and resources. Please underline the word ‘inordinate.’ 

None of these interests; money, youth, religion, politics, rights and freedom, sex, sports, celebrity, drugs or self are false gods in and of themselves. In fact, they can be worthy assets.  Idolatry comes into play when we devote an unwarranted or wasteful amount of our attention, action or resources to them.  It is when we ascribe a surplus of meaning and value to theses interests that they become false gods or idols.

Here is the glitch. By claiming to revere the One, Holy and Living God at the same time we make great offerings of our attention, action and resources to false gods or idols we are effectively condemning ourselves to life in the middle of a combat zone. At best we are restless, at worst worried sick, as our false idols compete with the One, Holy and Living God for our attention, our action and our resources. No peace will be found on this battleground.

What then shall we do? Let me suggest that in an unforeseeable twist of events, the onslaught of Covid-19 addresses our dilemma.  The insidious intrusion of the grim virion shut down historic institutions, power brokering agencies and brought the world to its knees. Recently someone put it this way, “It is as if God sent us all to our rooms!” That image strikes home for me. Too many times I heard, “Young lady, go to your room and write five hundred times, “I will be kind to my little brother.” But I digress.

Here is the startling paradox. The cost of the pandemic is unfathomable to victims, their families, those who lost their livelihood, their homes and their hope. And at the same time, the shutting down of public institutions has created the spaciousness for us to go to our rooms, examine and reorder our lives while the earth is healing her waters, air and atmosphere.

The question is, will we consent to this challenging moment and devote our attention, actions and resources to fostering right relationship with God, our neighbors and the earth? Or, will we join the chorus complaining, looking for someone to blame, demanding things go back to the way they used to be?

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Acts of the Apostles and Psalm texts for 3 May 2020

Acts 2:42-47        Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.

Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd; *

I shall not be in want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures *

and leads me beside still waters.

He revives my soul *

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I shall fear no evil; *

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me; *

you have anointed my head with oil,

and my cup is running over.

Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, *

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Reflection        Could it be that in this time of stillness, silence and social distance our shepherd, our God is leading us to recognize the beauty that surrounds us? lying down in the green pastures of our homes? being still by the waters of our pools and fountain features? resting in the thick nest of silence?

Could it be that in this time of stillness, silence and social distance our shepherd, our God is showing us a new way of being (not doing) in the world? joining our neighbors sitting six feet apart in the crook of our cul de sacs, raising our cups and crackers in thanksgiving for a community we did not know was there? thanksgiving for the simple pleasure of being present, being alive?

Could it be that in this time of stillness, silence and social distance our shepherd, our God is teaching us the way of holy waiting? offering messages of encouragement by card or call or written in chalk on our driveways? bidding blessings to strangers hand painted on rocks tucked beside cactus and street posts? pausing and being embraced by an unknown person’s care?

Could it be that in this time of stillness, silence and social distance our shepherd, our God is inviting us to look into the mirror and examine the ways in which our personal programs for security, safety, esteem, power and control enslave us? admitting our addictions and confessing our hidden agendas? seeking help and praying for the grace to be healed?  being the source of healing?

Could it be that in this time of stillness, silence and social distance our shepherd, our God sees us as sheep conformed to the status quo? damned by the deception of civil, religious and political officials? confused by contention? provoked by propaganda? bound by our fear of the unknown?

Could it be that in this time of stillness, silence and social distance our shepherd, our God calls us by name?  guiding us along the right pathways? reviving our souls as we pass through the valley of the shadow of Covid-19 deaths? anointing our heads with the hands of Divine blessing?

Could it be that we will emerge from this time of stillness, silence and social distance a new and transformed people? recognizing how quickly the earth heals when we are still, silent and let God be God?  the air is purified, the water is clarified and we are restored to immaculate innocence. 

Could it be that this time of stillness, silence and social distance is God’s way of transforming our hearts, our minds, our lives and our planet? leading us on the pathways of righteousness? anointing our heads with the oil of gladness? Could it be?

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Gospel text for 3rd Sunday of Easter, 26 April 2020

Luke 24.13-35         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. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, ‘Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?’ He asked them, ‘What things?’ They replied, ‘The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.’ Then he said to them, ‘Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?’ Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, ‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ So he went in to stay with them. 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; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’ That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, ‘The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!’ Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Reflection        Cleopas and his companion are grieving. They followed Jesus to Jerusalem believing he was “a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people,” the one they hoped would “redeem Israel.” But the religious and political officials handed Jesus over to death. The bereft disciples have no idea where they are going, no picture for the future. They are grieving because all seems lost so they are walking away from Jerusalem, retelling the story of Jesus’ suffering and tragic death.

Are we not much like Cleopas and his unnamed friend, rehearsing the story of our suffering and death as we wander along?  As of today (Friday April 24th) there are 5,769 confirmed covid19 cases with 249 deaths in Arizona, 1,026 cases in Pima County with 70 deaths here. Worldwide there are 2.74 million cases with 192 thousand deaths. Twenty seven million people have filed for unemployment. Financial despair and social distancing have led to mental health crisis. Isolation policies have meant people die alone and loved ones cannot bury and formally celebrate the lives of their dead. And even those for whom covid 19 and stay at home orders  appear to change little  agree, nothing will ever be the same.

Today we  join Cleopas and his companion on the road to Emmaus. We have no idea where we are going. No clear picture for the future. And here is the good news. Jesus is walking with us, present in the midst of all the suffering, death and uncertainty. The question is, how do we recognize his real presence?

To help us along the way, we gather even remotely, at the table with Jesus. We remember the last Passover Supper when Jesus “took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, ‘This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” (Luke 22.19-20)  Then like Cleopas and his companion, the eyes of our hearts are open and we recognize the real presence of Jesus.

We recognize the real presence of Jesus by what he does. He breaks bread and he shares it. Everyone is fed. Everyone is cared for. We recognize Jesus in stories like this one, told to me by a hospice chaplain. The dying wish of a woman was to hear the symphony. Staff who learned the woman had been a cellist reached out to the local orchestra. Playing remotely from their separate homes a flutist, a violinist and a cellist fulfilled the dying woman’s wish. 

Jesus is made known through every healthcare and hospice worker, first responder, care giver and cook, folks who shelve or deliver groceries, house the homeless or sterilize shopping carts, deliver backpacks stuffed with books for children, call and send notes of encouragement to others, send money to the church to be used to help parishioners in need. We recognize the real presence of Jesus by what he does. As soon as our eyes are open we join Cleopas and his companion heading back to Jerusalem to tell our stories of how the real presence of Jesus is made known to us in the actions of self-giving love. 

Perhaps you would like to spend fourteen minutes considering the ways you have recognized the real presence of Jesus while listening to the music of Allegri. 

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