Luke 24:13-35 | Göttinger Predigten im Internet (2024)

3 Easter, 10 April 2005
A Sermon on Luke 24:13-35 by Samuel Zumwalt

Luke 24:13-35

13 Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, „What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?“ They stood still, looking sad. 18 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?“ 19 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, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21 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. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23 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. 24 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.“ 25 Then he said to them, „Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?“ 27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures. 28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 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. 30 When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32 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?“ 33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying, „The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!“ 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

IN THE BREAKING OF THE BREAD

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Retired seminary professor Hilmer Krause once described one of the high points of his days as a chaplain in the U.S. Navy. While on active duty in Europe, he was given an opportunity to join a delegation that would meet with the then Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople. Given a chance to ask questions of the titular leader of Greek Orthodoxy, Dr. Krause asked how the Orthodox described the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. The patriarch replied that he didn’t understand the question. Two more times Dr. Krause asked his question using slightly different words. Only after the third question did the patriarch’s eyes brighten with understanding. His response was something like: “Ah, now I see what you are asking. Isn’t that just like you westerners? You want to define everything while we simply stand in awe of the mystery.”

The good patriarch did capture the western penchant for attempting to impose linear thinking to our consideration of the holy mysteries. One needs only to think of the volumes that have been contributed to the western debate over what the “is” means in “This is my body.” In a profane reference, one might as well adopt the Clintonian strategy of arguing over the “is.”

There is no “is” in “This is my body.” There is only the implied “is” as in “This, my body.” Nevertheless, that did not keep Rome from defining the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist by using the philosophical language of Aristotle and Aquinas to put forth the doctrine of transubstantiation. Meanwhile, the Lutheran party preferred Augustine’s earlier incarnational and biblical language of the “Visible Word” in the sacraments. Others on the left wing of the Reformation followed with arguments that Christ was not present in the elements but in the heavenly places to which the assembly of believers was lifted spiritually. Then others spoke only of the presence in the assembly but not in the meal.

In my growing up years, I attended the Lutheran church at 8 a.m. with my mother and the Baptist church at 11 with my father. When one of my Sicilian relatives died, I attended the rosary and requiem mass (first in Latin and only much later in English). On Christmas Eve, I worshiped with my oldest childhood friend at the high church Anglican Midnight Mass. In the late teenage years, I attended with my first love an evening worship at a fundamentalist Church of Christ.

The pietistic low church Lutherans communed once monthly to make the sacramental encounter with Jesus “more special.” The Southern Baptists communed once or twice yearly and in the evening with crackers and grape juice. The Roman Catholics, the Anglicans, and the Church of Christ all communed at every Sunday service. The Romans and the Anglicans differed in the language of the Eucharistic prayer but, like the low church Lutherans who only used the Words of Institution, there was a sense of holy mystery in the sacramental moment that defied explanation. The Baptists and the Church of Christ, with their kosher crackers and grape juice, displayed a reverence as community of believers in their observation of the Lord’s Supper.

Having been properly indoctrinated in the pietistic tradition of Lutheranism, I was nervous about more frequent reception of the Sacrament of the Altar when I was first at seminary. Yet to my delight, our seminary was heavily influenced by the high church tradition in its worship life. Despite the Teutonic tendency to try to systematize everything (rampant in the classroom experience), the seminary worship life often evoked a sense of awe and wonder in the presence of the Holy One of Israel, the Triune God. It was a most wonderful surprise to see the same professors that often seemed to be forensic pathologists of the Bible (and of the Great Tradition) suddenly in full clerics, albs, and chasubles chanting the liturgy while handling the sacramental elements with care and reverence. It was as if they could not help but remember in the moment Chrysostom’s admonition that it is a miracle for a priest (pastor) to be saved.

What doubtless may seem to you to be a rambling biographical travelogue really does intersect, at least in my 51-year-old mind, with the famous Emmaus encounter with the Risen Lord!

Cleopas and friend were downhearted that Easter night as they traveled home. The reports of the Resurrection of Jesus had not been strong enough to overcome their profound sorrow over his horrible Crucifixion. They knew what dead meant. They knew what disappointment and discouragement meant. As they said to the mysterious stranger on the road, they had had such high hopes for Jesus, but these had been dashed by his brutal execution. Their knowledge of the Hebrew Bible precluded any further hopes for Jesus. They were bereft of everything but the grueling labors of grief. As Gerard Manley Hopkins once wrote in “Margaret,” it was themselves for which they were mourning.

Their companion on the road to Emmaus gently scolded their certitude. It was evident that they knew the words of Scripture but not the tune. In fact, the mystery was right before their eyes, and yet it eluded them because of their need to do a theological post-mortem. In short, as is yet our tragic flaw, it was still all about Cleopas and friend.

“Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” Doesn’t that say more than they intend? Cleopas and friend are all alone as the terror of eternal night draws near. All their knowledge of Scripture, all their pious experience of Jesus has not comforted them. In fact, it has left them with the grief and hopelessness that marks the self-absorbed contemplation of mortality (Jesus’ and theirs).

And yet, this stranger has by his presence strangely warmed their hearts. They do not want it to end. He has drawn them out of themselves, out of their sure and certain hopelessness despite a better than average theological education.

How surprising that the stranger assumes the role of host at supper lifting the loaf and uttering the ancient thanksgiving for daily bread. And then, he broke the loaf and distributed it to them – and they recognized Him. Then He vanished from their sight. Why couldn’t we see it? We didn’t we recognize Him? We were lost in ourselves – trapped in our heads – lost in our faithless certitude. While we were arguing over the “is” we missed the mysterious Who!

They raced back to find the eleven and their companions gathered together. Were they already celebrating the mystery of the Resurrection? Or were they perhaps doing their own theological post-mortem, caught up in their incipient systematic theologies, skillfully carving up the theological corpse with exegetical precision. Might the first religious phenomenologist have been leading them to make a beautiful comparison of Jesus with earlier teachers of Jewish and Greek traditions? Oh what they might have done with an on-line newsletter and a self-congratulatory website!

Cleopas and friend burst in and cannot stop saying: “The Lord has risen indeed!” Were they affirming Simon’s experience of the Resurrection as if to say “Now we get it”? They tell how He has been made known to them in the breaking of the bread. They knew the Risen Jesus not from apologetics (rational arguments for the Resurrection) – not from continuing theological education – not from reading scholarly tomes on the resurrection distributed by a money-losing denominational publishing house. They knew (the Hebrew “yada”) Him in the breaking of the bread. There they saw the Risen Jesus. There all the heart-warming experience of their walk to Emmaus was given a Name above every other name – the Name at which every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.

Isn’t it that very kenosis (emptying) about which Paul in Philippians 2 sang the very thing that got in the way of Cleopas and friend? Isn’t that what keeps getting in the way of all of us preachers and teachers today? Isn’t that what sends us reeling in our unbelief so that we go looking for comfort in repristination or re-imagining or even retrenchment? It isn’t about us!

That’s what the angels and archangels and all the company of heaven know in a way that keeps eluding us. Like Cleopas and friend on the road we keep trying to solve a mystery. It’s right in front of us. He is right here for us to see in the breaking of the bread. Ave, Verum Corpus! (Oh, Lord Jesus – truly present for us to taste and see!) Now we see through a mirror dimly but then face to face. Now our knowledge is incomplete (because of our unbelief). At last, we will know Him as He truly knows us!

This week I gave away two simple wooden neck crosses. The first was to a 24-year-old man who was about to be baptized. The next to a thirty-something man that also dropped by for pastoral conversation. Both were on the road with Cleopas and friend, troubled by the gathering gloom and yearning to see Jesus.

In-between each breaking of the bread, we need to be reminded that we are known and loved in all of our brokenness and in all our self-absorbed concerns. His cross reminds us of our baptism – I am His and He is mine. To grab hold of His cross in anxious moments crying “Lord, have mercy” is a palpable sign that soon He will come to us again in the breaking of the bread and soon and very soon we will be with Him forever in perpetual Light and Love and Joy!

The breaking of the bread is a mysterious gift for us – the gift of the Risen One’s presence – the sharing in the divine life and love of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We can still rush to the assembly to gather with the people of God of every time and every place to fall in wonder, awe, and praise before the One who holds us in love and mercy forever.

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Samuel D. Zumwalt
St. Matthew’s Evangelical Lutheran Church
Wilmington , North Carolina USA
szumwalt@bellsouth.net

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