Easter has come, but do we see
it? From the fanfare of Palm Sunday, to the sorrow of Good Friday, the person Jesus of Nazareth
came into the city, preached, was betrayed by his own, captured, condemned, and
crucified. The mighty prophet, the one who claimed to be Messiah has come and gone, and two disciples find
themselves on the road home from Jerusalem. They find themselves walking home
with less of a bounce in their step. There is a burden of sorrow
that seems to rest on their shoulders. If you saw them walking on the
road, you would know something had happened. You would know that some kind of tragedy had occurred. The first thing you might ask is “What is wrong?”
A stranger approaches the two
disciples. We know this stranger to be
the resurrected Jesus, but the disciples’
eyes are kept from recognizing him. The stranger asks these two
disciples, "What were you discussing as
you walked along the way?"
The two disciples are surprised
that anyone would have to ask that question. They think to themselves, “Who
wouldn’t know what everyone is
talking about today?" But they are also saddened by what they must answer.
They tell Jesus the story of
Jesus. They tell of this prophet, mighty
in word and deed. They tell of his arrest and
death, and they say these
words: “But we had hoped that he was
the one to redeem Israel.”
You can hear the deflation of
their hopes in those words. You can hear the
disappointment. We placed our
trust, and love, and hope in this person, and now he has been killed,
before he fulfilled his promise. Things have not gone as they
had expected, as they had
planned, and there is a question that sits in their midst: the question that they surely
asked themselves as they walked home; the question that resonated in
the empty hole that Jesus left; the question that echoed in
their empty hearts. “What’s next?”
Whenever I hear this particular,
simple question, I am reminded of a favorite TV
show of mine: The West Wing. This is a political drama
about the white house and the people who work there. In this show the President,
played by Martin Sheen, has a good relationship with
his staff. One of the
things that is well known about the president is his propensity to asking
this particular question, “What’s next?” In one episode the staff get hung up on something that has gone wrong, and the president asks this
question many times. He finally explains that he is asking this question because he is ready to move on
and face the next challenge. The question crops up again in
the show when one of the major
characters is shot. He goes through hours and hours of surgery with the uncertainty of his survival hanging in the air like a thick cloud which envelops all of the characters on the show. At the end of the successful surgery the president goes to visit his injured colleague in his hospital room. The wounded man is barely
able to whisper one phrase: “What’s next?"
It is the question of
transition. It is the question of
change; of endings and beginnings. It is a question that comes up in
simplicity: “Ok, I finished vacuuming the bedroom...what’s next? Oh, the closet.”
“Ok, I finished watching episode 2 on Netflix. What’s next? Well, I guess episode 3. Then probably episode 4.”
But it is a question that also comes
up in complexity. “My child is graduating from high school and moving away from home. My primary focus for the last
18 years of my life has been keeping
this child alive and well. What’s next?”
“I have committed so much time
and energy to practicing and playing this sport, but will I continue to play
from here on out? What’s next?”
“I dedicated my life to my work, doing that about which I was
passionate. Now, I have come to
retirement. I have reached the end of my
working life. What’s next?”
It is also a question which arises in the wake of the unexpected. In the wake of the tragic, or
the disturbing, or the disarming, when hopelessness
is the sense that pervades.
This past Thursday marked the
passage of 8 years since the tragedy at Virginia Tech. 32 students were killed and over 20 were injured, including a close friend of
mine. I remember the presence of
this question, if not in obvious ways, then lingering in the backs of everyone’s minds. What were we to do now? In the wake of such terrible violence in our community we struggled with the most basic challenges, and asked the most fearful questions. How were we to move forward with a loss of security, and a loss of hope. What was next?
This disciples asked this question
in the midst of all of three scenarios. After facing the tragic death
of their friend, teacher, and Lord they wondered how
could life go on. The situation they faced was
one of immense complexity. They had placed
their faith, trust, even their livelihoods in the mission and goal of this
person who seemed to have failed. They even faced the “what’s
next” question in simple terms. These two
disciples asked, “Where should we go? Should
we stay in Jerusalem, should we go home?"
The amount of uncertainty they faced must have been overwhelming. Out of their moment of hopelessness they wondered, “What’s next?”
The amount of uncertainty they faced must have been overwhelming. Out of their moment of hopelessness they wondered, “What’s next?”
What does happen next? They are met on the road by a
stranger. Though they do not recognize
this stranger for who he is, the Scriptures are
opened to them. Jesus walks with the two
disciples, without them recognizing him, along the road, teaching them
about his true identity, his true mission, what his life and
death really meant, and how the Scriptures were
fulfilled in him.
At the end of the journey the two
disciples invite Jesus to share a meal with him. They sit down at a meal
together, and share it a familiar tradition. Then this guest
breaks bread before them, and their eyes are opened and they recognize this
stranger in a new way. They see in this
person their friend, the risen Lord. Jesus needs to say nothing. The two disciples reflect on
the time they spent together on the road,
understanding it in a new way. “Were not our hearts burning within us? How could we not have known?"
understanding it in a new way. “Were not our hearts burning within us? How could we not have known?"
Their sense of hope for the
future is restored. Their, “What’s next,” gets an
answer. Their immediate response
is to get up and return to Jerusalem. While their journey to Emmaus had been characterized by sad faces and downcast glances, they return to Jerusalem with haste,eager to tell their story, no longer wondering about what would be next.
It was important for these
disciples to ask this question after Christ died. It is important for us to
ask this question as well. On Monday of this week, there was a gathering at First Presbyterian Church of members from churches all
around our area. There were people from Badin Presbyterian
Church, First Presbyterian Locust, First Presbyterian Concord, and First Presbyterian
Norwood. I’m reminded as I read out
this list how creative we are with our naming...
Pastors and members of these churches gathered with a team of people from
around our presbytery appropriately called, the
Emmaus Team. We spent an hour and a half talking about our churches. We discussed what we are excited about,
what gives us energy, what we are doing
that fulfills God’s call to us. We spent time talking
about the future of the church, talking about what’s next. We discussed what it is that
already do that we need to carry into the future, and what it is we
can change right now to make our
churches the best embodiment of Christ on earth as we can.
This team of people is wrestling
with the question, “What’s next?” They are not asking it in a
fearful way. They are not running away from
the difficult challenges we face. Just like the disciples, they are walking on the road, as Easter people, hoping to
find Christ. They are hoping to have the scriptures
opened up and revealed, hoping to
recognize Christ in the community of believers, and hoping to discern the
future, so they may run back and spread the good news.
The answer to, "What’s next," is an
answer of hope. It is an answer of
encouragement. I am excited this April, because 8 years after being shot in the leg three
times in her French class my friend is reclaiming the month of April, one that has haunted her and
her friends in the years that followed. She is challenging April head on by getting married this year. She is turning a situation and
a place of fear and tragedy into one of hope
and love. She is looking
forward to the future, changed, but strong.
We all have our own, "What's next," moments. We all have times in our lives when we face uncertainty: uncertainty at work, in a relationship, with health, friends, or family. We all find ourselves asking this question. Maybe that's where you find yourself today. Maybe you are facing a small uncertainty - What's for lunch? Maybe you are facing a complex uncertainty - What does life hold for me now? Maybe you are facing uncertainty after tragedy - a death in your family, the loss of a relationship, a sense of fear that lingers.
This is a natural thing. It is human of us to ask, "What's next?" As we walk the road, as we ask the question, God calls us to meet Jesus. We may not recognize him. He may look like our friends or our family. He may look like a neighbor or a stranger. He may be a hunger person whom we feed. We may be a community of people that needs water. He may be someone we comfort in a dark place. He may even be someone we can't see or hear. His promise is to bring us eyesight in new ways. He promises in the breaking of bread at the table, in the communion of our lives together, to meet us on the road. To send us forward running with eagerness and excitement about the future, knowing the answer to the question, "What's next?"
Amen.