The Walk to Emmaus as an Examen

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Theirs is a crowded loneliness. I call them Max and Cleo. One has a name, Cleopas, the other doesn’t. Some of you know I don’t like nameless characters - so I call the other guy Max. These two, they are getting out of Jerusalem. Followers of Jesus, who days before was put to death as a revolutionary. It was just after the festival, so the road, every road out of Jerusalem would have been crowded. Max and Cleo had every reason to have been scared, but perhaps they were too numb to even feel that. When I see them, I imagine them anxious, confused and bustled on a crowded road. And I find myself with a new reaction to that scene. I shrink back now, try to step aside on their behalf. Trying to care for myself, for my neighbors, There is so much known and unknown A moment of too much and too little. I find myself in the vicinity of Max and Cleo I want to step back, protect them, protect me, and I look around with concern and judginess at the rest of the people and wonder where are your masks?

The location of Emmaus is lost in the sands of time. All the probable locations are at a long foot travel distance which make the told timeline of this tale improbable. Luke is more interested in the meeting the heart than matching the clock. I trust that this episode holds a feeling, an experience a witness of the early days of the risen Jesus. And I know it is the experience of followers in every era who go from huh? to whoa! Emmaus is almost metaphor for whatever space we go to to escape - even if it is in our own mind palace.  Emmaus is that good place we go to get away from all the drama and all the trouble and Jesus meets us there. Where do you go in your heart - where do you desire to go - to get away from the crowded loneliness of now? A space that is verdant but also a blank canvas? Room to find sacred freedom, and to find peace enough to be touched and fed by Jesus? Do you need to carve that out? Even if it is your shower? 

The lesson for the third Sunday, this third Sunday of Easter, It is the outline of how this all fits together - the eternal Christ - born, lived, died, risen, ascended - always present. Do we understand it? No. Do we feel it? Yes. This walk to Emmaus is exploring why Jesus matters in a story format. Max and Cleo on their attempted escape to Emmaus is one of the most central Christian narratives because it tells the complicated drama of what we trust, and how we live, and who Jesus is in our lives. 

The best tool I know of for getting a little bit of “away” so I can focus staying still and getting away to get better at noticing Jesus walking with me is the Ignatian practice of the Examen. And the easiest way to remember it for me is 5 R words. Practiced once a day with these five simple prompts: Relish request review repent resolve. 

Relish is savoring the feelings of the day: what was bitter, sweet, sour, fruitful? Request is the prayer of welcoming God: God who created everything, Jesus who shepherds us, the Spirit that intercedes with sighs to deep for words. Review is considering the agenda of the day with God - what did you do this day? Repent is what do you notice from these savorings and reflection that lead you to confess sin? Resolve is looking forward and setting your intention for a more wholehearted faithfulness tomorrow. 

All 5 of those prompts Relish Request Review Repent Resolve are in the Emmaus story - in another order. Relish - that memory of how their hearts had been burning. Request - inviting Jesus to sit table with them. Review - when they recount the previous days of death and reports of Jesus’ resurrection. Repent - Jesus’ judgement about our foolishness. Resolve - The excitement with which they return to Jerusalem and proclaim what they experienced. That easy examen is a five-word guide to looking prayerfully at the day, which in this time of not knowing what day it is - well, I find it to be priceless. Relish Request Review Repent Resolve. 

We are in the middle of this Corona-tide rumble - it is beyond full of grief and confusion. 50,000 dead from the Covid-19 virus in the US alone. I cannot even wrap my head around the woe of that number. The Spirit sighs too deep for words and Jesus weeps. There is no mistaking that many of us are on a lonely and crowded road - whether we are alone and crowded in by all the news and demands and changes; or if we are dwelling in a crowd and feeling all alone. I see you, I feel you. I am praying with you. 

Easter is here - but the wilderness continues. I am here to encourage you in the name of the risen Jesus - your staying apart, wearing uncomfortable masks, Learning to distance, changing our lists from want to need, the turning over of absolutely everything, for what will be a long while, This is walking with Jesus. It is being the church by taking on his shape, making significant sacrifices for the well being of the last and the least. Our feast with him again will be a while, but that does not distance us from him, does not have to lead us to fail in our sacred duties. 

We are in the middle of this difficult journey - a crowded and lonely rumble with the best and the worst. Max and Cleo, as I call them, were on a similar journey. Today’s lesson is the fullness of the Christian experience, it is the truth of our unique life together-apart right now. For thousands of years this Emmaus journey has been the reality of many followers of Jesus. And in the communion of saints, I trust that they are walking with us too - right now. We are not alone. Christ is with us. The saints are with us. Relish, Request, Review, Repent, Resolve.  

Christ Church, Ridley Park

DioPA

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Easter 3 RCL A

Easter Like No Other

I make silly poses for the test photos
when I am prepping for a live stream alone.

Before each service these days I worry about my throat giving out. And I remind myself that my favorite singer songwriters stand up on a stage, and sing and chatter for two to three hours. So I repeat at myself: you can do this if they can. But despite current appearances to the contrary, I am not a solo performer. I don’t know how to do this. None of us know how to do this. There is something shadowy and tomb like to stand at an altar with no bread or wine, an ambry with no sacrament, a nave with no hearts or smiles or wiggles.

The disciples and friends of Jesus didn’t know how to do it either. They barely knew what it was to do. The morning light must have been harsh. Were they looking around corners? Hiding their faces? So much they didn’t know. What tumbles in their hearts is probably love and fear and anxiety and trying to ‘just getting on with the living'. That sounds familiar. Suddenly they are interrupted by something like a bold and blazing light, by a startling and world re-doing proclamation: He is not in the tomb. There has never been another Easter like that first one, and there has never been another Easter like this one. Empty church buildings across the world. Not because we quit loving Jesus - but because we love him and follow him. 

He is the heart of this day - and the why of the way that we choose to practice the day of resurrection this year. The center of Easter in Christian practice is not seersucker suits or chocolate rabbits or confetti eggs. The center of Easter is that first utterly world re-creating empty tomb. The blinding light of Easter is the most radical claim of Christian belief and practice - that Jesus who was crucified is not dead but has risen. 

The new creation is glowing and growing, but it also is shedding long shadows. We would be foolish to pretend that anything will ever be normal again. There are vile shadows that are wreaking havoc right now attacking our most vulnerable underbellies and neighbors. The cruel shades of evil won’t be vanquished because someday we will party together again. Such evil needs the masked and gloved disciples of Jesus shining lights of candor and boldly serving for truth. I want to get back to some parts of the life I once knew, I want iced espresso in hip cafes and company. Oh how I want company. Yet at the same time, I feel strangely more connected to you, even at this distance. 

We are called by Jesus in this time on this Easter day to turn, turn from shadows and selfishness rise into courage, pivot into active disciple-d responsibility for ourselves for neighbors, for strangers and for our children’s children. Thank you from the depths of sacred gratitude to everyone on the front lines. Peace be with you who are suffering, suffering the distance, or illness, or because your beloved has died. We are with you, Jesus loves you. We will do our duty because it is how we show that we love God. We are here for you. A new creation comes to life and grows, as Christ’s new body takes on flesh and blood. A universe restored, and all will sing, Alleluia. 

The first thing the believers in the risen Jesus did was not to build church buildings. Church buildings are wonderful and essential and we are quite blessed by this one. Yet the church is a people word. The church is the community of humanity in which Christ Jesus has taken flesh and blood shape. The form of the church isn’t a structure but lifegiving evidence of God in Christ resurrected right now in us. The being of the church is still alive and well and celebrating in different shape and texture. And as long as it aligns with Jesus, as long as it steadfastly practices the promises of baptism, as long as we rise up in empathetic action for strangers, we will never cease to be the church of Jesus Christ. 

Right now we are one with communities of disciples that were the closest in time to the first Easter. We are gathered in homes, proclaiming Christ as Lord, praying, singing, promising, wondering, and serving because God loved us first. We are one together with Jesus Christ because by our distancing, we are acting for all neighbors in concrete ways. This is what we have always meant when we have proclaimed that they will know we are Christians by our love. A new creation is coming to life and growing. 

Resurrection is taking on real flesh and blood in hearts and souls and hands that never thought much about who they are aligned with or what it means to be a practicing Christian. Maybe that is you? If it is, I am glad you are tuning in today. I wonder if Jesus whispering your name beside the empty tomb. We don’t have to know it all, or really know what we are doing, if it is done in the ways of love that are of God. Today we are called to hear Jesus’ voice, chase after God’s commandments, and let the Spirit of the new creation come to life in us together, even while apart. Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia! 

(I am playing a bit with the hymn that was sung just before the gospel).

Easter Sunday 2020  RCL A

Corona-tide

Christ Church, Ridley Park

Episcopal Diocese of Pennsylvania