The Real Thing

A sermon preached at the Old South Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Hallowell, Maine, April 30, 2006.

Text: Luke 24

The Rev. Susan M. Reisert, Minister

Certainly one of the best children’s programs on television is the show Arthur. Named for its lead character, the show chronicles family life from the point of view of this eight-year-old boy. Though a family of aardvarks, who live in a town of rabbits, moose, monkeys, deer and other animals, Arthur and his family deal with all kinds of very real family issues and the show illuminates these issues with warmth, creativity and humor.

Arthur has two younger sisters, but the one who often features prominently is the one who is closest to his age, his sister called D.W. (short for Dora Winifred). D.W. lives to harass her older brother, like many younger siblings, but that is not why I bring her up today.

The reason why I bring up Arthur and his younger sister is for D.W.’s invisible friend, Nadine. Nadine shows up from time to time, but of course, can only be seen by D.W. In a song from the Arthur CD collection, DW sings about Nadine as she is searching for her, asking “Have you seen my invisible friend?” “I think I just lost my best friend,” D.W. sings, “I don’t know where she went. She was here, then disappeared. What a predicament. Please look around, all over town. If you hear my lament, if you don’t see her anywhere, that must be where she went. Have you seen my invisible friend?”

D.W.’s reliance on an invisible friend is a normal part of many children’s lives with many children finding comfort in that certain kind of friend who will always be there for them.

You may be wondering how in the world this could possibly relate to our scripture passage today, but it does, it does quite a lot.

In our post-resurrection, Easter time of the year, we are exploring one of the stories, offered by Luke, in which he begins to tackle what it means to believe in the risen Christ. Our passage this morning reminds us of some of the difficulties of this enterprise. Is he a ghost? Is he simply some of kind of invisible friend? Who is Jesus after that first Easter morning and how are the first disciples supposed to respond and, in turn, how are we to respond?

We tend to gloss over this part of the story in much of lives of faith. Either it is a a given fact—the bodily resurrection of Jesus—that serves as the cornerstone of belief (some Christians say that if you do not believe in the resurrection of Jesus in the flesh then you are not really a Christian) OR it is a powerful metaphor for something that no one can adequately explain about what Jesus had done in the lives of those early disciples that caused them to preach the good news and to dramatically alter their own lives and the lives of those who came on board with them.

But, either way, we find neat ways of skipping lightly over this part of the story. But, imagine, if you will, if you were an early disciple, one of these disciples in today’s story. Or, if you were one of Jesus’ early followers. What would it have been like to make this transition from understanding this guy who walked and talked and taught and preached and healed people to this guy who, though crucified and buried in a tomb, seems not to be dead and gone forever, this guy who goes missing from the tomb. And, as we see in today’s story from Luke, appears to his followers. Is he a ghost? Is he an imaginary friend? Who is he and what does it mean that those early followers, those friends of Jesus, could see him and hear him and share a meal with him?

A few years ago, the PBS show Frontline ran a series called From Jesus to Christ. This series covered and chronicled the rise of Christianity, from before there was such a thing as Christianity, when there was just a rag-tag group of Jesus followers, most of whom were Jewish, to the time when Christianity was embraced by the Empire, hundreds of years after the crucifixion of Jesus.

This series served as an important educational opportunity that many of the things which we take for granted in our faith developed over the course of many years, were disputed over (sometimes in hostile, bitter and violent ways) and debated actively. The notion that this guy named Jesus, born of a woman, who lived and grew and was baptized by John in the river Jordan and who gathered together a group of followers in order to usher in a new age of understanding, guiding people on the right path, the path that God intended to the notion that Jesus was and is the promised Messiah, the One who was sent by God himself, is something that we don’t spend nearly enough time reflecting on and thinking about. After all, this process took years and years, with lots of debate and lots of arguing and lots of, we hope anyway, prayer and careful discussion.

After all, Jesus did not offer a handbook for those early followers. In fact, Jesus was known more for answering questions with more questions and teaching through the use of complicated, and sometimes downright mysterious and perplexing, parables. If Jesus wrote anything himself, it did not survive the ravages of time nor does anyone refer to anything that Jesus wrote himself. And, when the writing is left to others, there is rarely agreement.

Even among the gospel writers, there are subtle differences (and some not so subtle differences) in how they write about Jesus in light of that first Easter morning. The original ending to Mark, for instance, likely had Mary and the other women terrified and speechless at the sight of the empty tomb with no sightings of the risen Christ at all.

This morning, we spend a few moments reflecting on one of the very last stories contained in the Gospel of Luke, though Luke went on with the story and the beginnings of the Church in the Book of Acts.

Today’s passage follows on the heels of the Road to Emmaus story, the story that I incorporate into our monthly Communion services. In the Road to Emmaus story, two of Jesus’ followers are heading out of Jerusalem, probably thinking that the story was over and that Jesus was gone forever. As they are walking along the road, they are joined by Jesus himself, but they do not recognize their friend and their teacher; they believe him to be a stranger. And, then the three of them continue along the road. The two followers tell the stranger about the terrible events that had occurred in Jerusalem and about the reports from the women that the tomb was empty on that Sunday morning. And then Jesus talks to them about what is contained in the scriptures, going all the way back to Moses and interpreting the scriptures in light of himself—though, of course, the two still believe him to be a stranger. As they come to the place called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, it looks as though the stranger will be continuing on. But, the other two urge him to stay with them, as it is getting late in the day.

As they sit down to share a meal together, the stranger took bread, blessed it and broke it and gave it to them. Then there came a burning in their hearts and their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.

And so the two followers returned to Jerusalem and found the eleven and told them about what had happened at Emmaus. And while they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified, and thought they were seeing a ghost. But, Jesus asks them about their doubts and then encourages them to look at him and to touch him, declaring that a “ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have”, he says.

Jesus then asks for something to eat and they give him a piece of fish. He eats and then talks to them about the scriptures and about what is to happen: “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.”

In these stories, Jesus is out to prove that he is the real thing. He is not a ghost. He is not an imaginary friend. He is real and his presence among his followers is strong and faithful, for those who have the courage to open their eyes or, more importantly, their hearts, to the reality of his life among those who believe in him.

Notice that Jesus reveals himself in these stories to groups. Notice that he invites them to touch him. Notice that he goes so far as to ask for something to eat. For all of his complicated lessons and parables, this part really isn’t so complicated. Here I am—real and for true, as my children would probably say. He’s not a ghost. He is not an imaginary friend. And, he reminds them that they are witnesses of these things—all of them, as a group—and they will be clothed with power from on high, to preach the word of repentance and the forgiveness of sins.

For many Christians, lives of faith are lived as though Jesus is just an imaginary friend—someone to turn to in times of trouble, someone to talk to you in our private moments, someone to count on when our earthly friends let us down. But, Jesus is much more than that. And that is the powerful story of Jesus Christ after the resurrection.

When we gloss over these stories or when we get bogged down in debate about them, we lose out on the real message here—that is, that Jesus is the real thing. And Jesus is calling us to become the real thing as well, to live out our faith in the flesh and to follow with all of ourselves, to know that Jesus is real and that his message is real as well.

There came a burning in their hearts and they recognized the risen Christ. And, then they went out to tell. And, then they went out to live as people who had seen and experienced the risen Christ, to proclaim the Good News, to bring hope, love and promise—to live out their faith in the flesh. Never to be the same as they had been, but to be transformed. To live out their lives of faith in the flesh, though not to become bound by their flesh.

How alive is the flesh of Jesus among us today, in this community of faith? How much do our hearts burn within us when the scriptures are opened to us? And how often do we recognize the stranger as the living Christ in our midst?

These are important questions that emerge for us today as we engage in these post-Resurrection stories.

The answers to these questions suggest both the promise and the power of Easter. The presence of Jesus is real. He is the real thing. And he lives among us still, though we may sometimes have difficulty in recognizing him.

God grant us the grace and the courage we need to live out our faith in the flesh, to bring real hope and real justice and real peace and real love to the reality of our lives and to the reality of the lives of those who so desperately seek and need such hope and justice and peace and love. May we so live and may we so offer our witness as we accept the power that is given from on high, to be real people of faith.

[Thank you to Susan Andrews who wrote “Holy Heartburn,” which provided some inspiration for the end of this sermon. Andrews’ message is available on-line at www.religion-online.org.]