Musical Prelude and Service.

Psalm 116 & Luke 24:13-35
Before I get into the substance of this reflection, I want to share with you a Facebook post from an
Evangelical Lutheran Church of America minister I follow. This morning she posted the following; and
I must paraphrase now, because I can no longer find the post:
“In a society that profits off of our self doubt, liking yourself is an act of rebellion.”
Keep that thought in mind as you take in the following reflection.
So yesterday I went to a soccer game with my youngest, Liz. With the rainy weather, I was decked
out in an orange rain coat, an Orange Forge rain poncho, my Forge bucket hat and a scarf. I got a
look in a mirror at one point and to summarize my thoughts; yes, I’m approaching 60.
Not terribly theological, but I saw myself as a tired and damp 60-year-old man in that moment.
But considering today’s scripture, I also wondered later in the day how other people saw me.
Now this is not me saying we should obsess over how people view us, but as I will expand on the
story of the encounter on the road to Emmaus, how do our actions and our words influence how
people experience us?
There is a story I have shared in reflections and in a number of conversations about an encounter
with a young man in Sioux Lookout. It came at a time when I was experiencing something of a
spiritual crisis. I was questioning if I was on the right path working to be ordained. Was I cut out for
pastoral ministry? In any case, in the midst of this crisis, this man identified me as a minister and
asked me to follow him and offer prayer to a couple of different people in the local hospital.
I left that hospital later with a renewed commitment and a fresh perspective on my relationship to
everyone around me. And as I have reflected frequently on this encounter, I increasingly see this
young man, whose name I cannot remember; as Jesus appearing to me in that moment.
I was lost; I was discouraged; I was filled with doubt.
I doubted my abilities and my call, and I questioned how I was perceived by the people around me.
In that encounter, God restored my call, offered me direction, and healed a wounded heart.
Does it make sense that in the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus, is a passage of scripture
that resonates deeply with me?
We are now in the season of Easter. Yes, we celebrated Easter Sunday and the knowledge of the
risen Christ. We are now spending the next several weeks reflecting on what it means that the risen
Christ appears to us, through stories of his disciples and followers encountering him in a variety of
stories.
How he comforts his followers, renews their courage, and moves them to share the good news of
God’s triumph over the forces of death and fear.
Two disciples – one named Cephas, are walking several miles to their home in Emmaus. Along the
way they encounter a stranger who prompts them to discuss what is troubling them. He talks with
them and excites them. When he finally accepts their offer to stay the night in their home and share
a meal, he blesses the bread and suddenly they realize that they are in the presence of their friend
and teacher.
This story is similar to Mary’s story in John’s gospel of course, in that the follower does not recognize
Jesus at first glance. We could spend a great deal of time on the psychology of why people struggle
to recognize their good friend. They aren’t inclined to see Jesus in front of them after watching him
die on a cross a few days earlier.
In the dying light they can’t see his features clearly?
Jesus simply hides his identity until it suits him?
We can’t say why with certainty.
What is important in this story for me, is that God, in the person of Jesus, shows up when we need
them. God is very capable of surprising us in our fear and grief. And if we are not looking for God, we
may not even recognize that Jesus is in our midst.
In that profound moment I described earlier, I didn’t immediately see Jesus. That realization for me
came later in reflection and prayer.
God comes to us in our despair. In our moments of fear and doubt, of anguish. When we are feeling
lost and alone, God is there. We may not recognize the holy. We may not appreciate what is
happening in the midst of that crisis. But God is there.
So, who are we looking for when we seek Jesus in our lives?
What are we seeking to heal?
What are we seeking to learn?
How are we looking to be part of building a safe and just and compassionate community and world?
The revelation of Jesus and God’s love in this story comes through respectful exchange of
information and ideas. It culminates in the sharing of a meal and asking God’s blessings upon it.
It is a story of sharing, of care and of compassion.
What are you looking for?
Apparently, some powerful figures in our world are seeking a more aggressive or vengeful Jesus.
One who celebrates destruction. A Jesus who offers excuses for dominating and abusing those
around you.
There have been several news stories in the past week that speak to the cruelty and inhumanity of
many in positions of power or who desire power. There are attempts to silence those who speak out
against calls for genocide – to silence those who demand accountability for abuse. I will confess to
being angered by attempts to frame Jesus as supporting those who promote militarism, armed
aggression, transphobia, homophobia and those who protect those who abuse the vulnerable in their
lives. In attempting to compose these paragraphs, I was just about moved to incoherence.
Statements that accused Pope Leo of needing to work more on his theology left me at best,
bewildered.
What are you looking for when you seek Jesus?
Are you in need of healing?
Are you in need of strength or peace?
Are you I need of inspiration and affirmation that you are following the path set before you?
Of course you can hear words that excuse or encourage your destructive behavior, but is that truly
what you think would be encouraged by the Jesus who told us to love one another?
The Jesus who knelt to wash his disciples’ feet and called on them to set an example of serving the
world? We encounter Jesus when we greet the stranger; when we invite the stranger into our home
and share our food with them. We are likely to miss Christ if we avoid those conversations, or if we
rush past those we don’t recognise.
This can be a tough message I know. The women in my life have made it clear they have good
reason to be wary when confronted by strangers. So I don’t want to push you into perilous actions.
I can’t help but think that God is fully aware of the very real dangers of this world. God is aware that
there are networks of men supporting each other’s worst inclinations.
But God will find a way to come to you; to support you, guide you, inspire you; heal you.
It will be through the stranger; the neighbour; the friends you haven’t met yet.
And further, going back to my initial reflection on how we are experienced by others, can we be the
vessel through which others experience God?
In our openness; our kindness and generosity, can we be a healing presence for others?
And in that moment can others later say, I experienced the risen Christ. Just for a moment?
Be open. Be welcoming. Be kind. Listen. Let your heart be moved and your imagination quickened.
Because just maybe in that moment, the person sitting next to you is the risen Christ. And perhaps
just maybe, for the person sitting next to you, you are the risen Christ.
God comes to us. Always. In the most surprising of ways. And often, just when we least expect it,
but we need God the most, Jesus is there for us. Thanks be to God. Amen
Rev. Warner Bloomfield

Music provided with permission through licensing with CCLI License number
2701258 and One License # A-731789