Luke 24:1-35
When Hope Had Died
James Sledge April
5, 2015 – Resurrection of the Lord
The
stone is rolled away! The tomb is empty! “Jesus Christ is risen today,
Alleluia!” We gather on this biggest day of the church year to celebrate. But
according to Luke’s gospel, as the sun sets on that first Easter, no one is
celebrating. Angels have told the women that Jesus is risen, but no one seems
to believe it, not even the women. Peter goes and finds the tomb empty but then
leaves befuddled, not knowing what it all means.
Later
in the day, two disciples head to Emmaus. Maybe it’s their home, maybe just a
layover. Regardless, they are disappointed and heartbroken. Just a week before
they entered Jerusalem shouting “Blessed is the king who comes in the name
of the Lord!” But now they their king is dead. Everything had seemed so
hopeful. Something new and wonderful was being born. But now that’s all gone. It’s
all over, and they are headed home.
Most
of us have never had our hopes dashed in such brutal fashion, but many of us
have faced a moment when hope was gone, when things we counted on failed us,
when it’s difficult to go forward. The loss of a loved one, the failure of a
relationship, or a diagnosis from the doctor can throw a person into despair.
It can make the future seem bleak, hopeless.
On
a larger scale, how do you hope for peace in an era of endless terror,
conflict, and war? How do congregations look to the future with excitement when
fewer and fewer Americans are interested in church? How do you hope for an end
to racism and discrimination when hate seem to be growing worse? How can poverty
end when economic inequality is growing?
Without hope and optimism, people fear
the future. They tend to get depressed or anxious or overly reactive. You can
see that in the hyper partisan politics of our day, in the shrill and vicious “conversations”
on social media, in the way many people see little point in voting. You can see
it when congregations and denominations engage in nasty fights over how to
interpret the Bible or worship styles or most anything else.
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Luke’s
gospel doesn’t say so, but I have to think there were some pretty big blow ups by
disciples that first Easter morning. Some wanted to stay together and see what
would happen. Some thought that was crazy and just wanted to go home. Some were
angry at the Romans. Some were angry at themselves for ever having followed
Jesus. Some were upset that they hadn’t made an effort to save Jesus.
What
sort of good-byes had bee said when two disciples left for Emmaus? Had it been
a fond parting? Or had they left in a huff, shouting over their shoulders,
“We’re out of here.”
Whatever
the circumstances, two disciples make their way toward Emmaus on the afternoon
of the first Easter. When the risen Jesus joins them, they have no idea who he
is. Is this divine sleight of hand, or does seeing him require more hope that
they can muster?
Jesus
asks what they are talking about, and they stop, looking sad. Their pain is
raw, but they share a short synopsis of what had happened over the last few
days, ending with, “But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” They
had hoped. But no longer.
Jesus had showed them a new way, a way
rooted in love, a way that did not meet violence with more violence, a way that
did not always have to have more but trusted God’s provision, a way that cared
for the poor and broken, that worked for a new community rooted in God’s love
and God’s priorities. Jesus had confronted the powerful, those heavily invested
in old ways, with his new way of love. But the powerful had killed Jesus, had shut
him up for good, and for two disciples journeying to Emmaus, hope had died,
too.