“Breakfast with Jesus”
Luke 24.36-48
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning,
Plymouth Congregational UCC
Fort Collins, Colorado
14 April 2024
 
Eastertide keeps on rolling with this story about the disciples’ encounter with the Risen One. Just so you know the time frame for today’s text, it happens on Easter Monday. Previously, Luke’s gospel offered us the wonderful story of Jesus meeting a couple on the road to Emmaus on the previous evening, a Sunday, and how they didn’t initially recognize Jesus, but “he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.” And just as rapidly as the couple recognized Jesus, he vanished. That couple hurries back to Jerusalem, they find the disciples and fill them in on what had happened and shares the news that Jesus was alive.

So, the disciples receive the news, and then Jesus appears before them. Now, imagine if Jesus were to appear to you. In Luke’s gospel, he tends to show up around mealtimes. So, imagine him appearing while you’re preparing lunch. Wouldn’t you think that he was a ghost or a spirit, even if he asked for a BLT? (Okay, maybe not a BLT since bacon isn’t kosher.) I would certainly assume it was a spiritual presence. What Luke describes is a mystical encounter with the risen Christ. Most of us protestants don’t like dealing with mystery because it’s difficult to quantify, observe, or measure. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t real.

I don’t know how many of us have sensed the presence of Christ in our midst, but I am aware that some of us have. For me, the most significant encounter I had involved my call to ordained ministry 30-some years ago. I was sitting at our dining room table in Boulder reading a book that was recommended to me by my mentor, Bruce MacKenzie, who was senior minister at First Congregational UCC in Boulder. The book was a key work by John Dominic Crossan called, Jesus a Revolutionary Biography, a book that stirred up a lot of public controversy because it described the historical Jesus in ways that many Christians never imagined him. At the time, I still had my own communications business, but I could sense that change was on the horizon. So, as I read, I had the distinct sense that there was a hand on my shoulder, and I heard the words, “You can do this.” I had the distinct sense that it was Jesus speaking to me. The experience was life-changing, which is why I am where I am this morning.

For me, there was no visual encounter…just a touch and a voice. I had no sense that Jesus was PHYSICALLY present. He certainly didn’t sit down and have a meal with me, and I was not in the company of others who could have vouched for the experience I had.

I am certain that there were a lot of post-resurrection experiences the disciples had individually of the risen Christ. But is it any wonder that Luke chose to describe two scenes — at Emmaus and with the disciples in Jerusalem — that involved Jesus appearing to multiple witnesses and that both involved a meal, thereby proving that they were not experiencing a ghost, but rather one who has a body, even eating with them?

Among Jews in the first century, there were different ways of interpreting resurrection, but for the Pharisees, it clearly involved resurrection of the body. Classical Judaism understood resurrection of the dead as God’s ultimate vindication of the righteous.

Interestingly, Paul of Tarsus was a self-described Pharisee, presumably one who believed in the resurrection of the body. Yet, Paul’s flash-of-light experience on the road to Damascus was a forceful, spiritual experience of Jesus that involved a voice but no body. The plot thickens further in Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth: “So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. … It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a physical body, there is also a spiritual body.”

Wait a minute…Paul the Pharisee is saying that we are born into a physical body, but that we also will have a spiritual body? This sounds like a divergence from the tenet of Pharisaic Judaism that it is our physical bodies that are to be raised.

Paul was born and raised in Tarsus in today’s Turkey, speaking Greek rather than Aramaic like Jesus. The culture that surrounded him meant that he was immersed in Greek philosophical assumptions, including the dualism of Plato, meaning that one’s physical body and soul are separate entities, and that the soul lives on after the death of the body. This is an idea that is common even today in the west. (How many of us think that we are both body and soul?) But, it was utterly foreign to the Judaism of Paul’s day, which saw no division between body and soul. “In classical Judaism, resurrection of the dead was a central belief, essential to defining oneself as a Jew. ‘Today,’ writes Jon D. Levenson, professor of Jewish studies at Harvard, ‘that fact comes as a shock to most Jews and Christians alike.’”[1]

I appreciate what the great preacher, Fred Craddock, has to say about the biblical record on resurrection: “The resurrection was not an unambiguous event that could have been captured with a video camera, but was a mysterious phenomenon that could have been interpreted more than one way and could evoke doubt and fear as well as faith and joy…. The New Testament pictures the reality of the resurrection in different ways that are not to be harmonized [or blended]. Each image brings out some theological meaning of resurrection…a divine mystery that cannot be captured in one representation.” That allows us plenty of latitude for interpretation.

Yet the question arises with Easter, what will happen to US?

I grew up in a family that was quite antiseptic about death: no visitation or viewing or open caskets. No funerals…always a memorial service. (I don’t recommend this!) So, the first time I saw a dead body outside of a college anatomy lab was when I was a Stephen Minister in Boulder. I had been paired with Roy Bramell, a lovely 95-year-old man who had been the founding dean of the School of Education at UConn (which has more than just great basketball). After Roy’s death, I went to the visitation with his family, and as I looked at his lifeless body, it was obvious to me that it was an empty shell. Yet at his memorial service, his adult children read selections from his voluminous writing about topics ranging from family to education to faith to patriotism, and as they read, tears began streaming down my cheeks. For me those tears flowed because the ideas and emotions Roy’s words expressed revivified him. His spirit was no longer attached to a body, but the essence of who he was continued on without interruption. I sense that this is true for all of us: that we continue to exist in a different plane or realm.

I don’t know whether we will experience an embodied resurrection or a spiritual resurrection or something entirely different. I’m not interested in ruling anything out in this great mystery. I take this seriously: “With God, all things ARE possible.”

I know what happens to our bodies when life ends: they degrade or are cremated. And I know that we are not alone but still are within God’s love. I don’t know what happens to the life force, the spirit, the soul, the divine spark when life ends, but I know we are not alone. God is with us each step of the way, within us, among us, and infinitely far beyond us. God has brought us this far on our journey, so why would we imagine that God will not be with us beyond death?

Why should we be surprised by anything that happens after death when every one of us is a first-hand witness to the miracle of life? Think about it: we are self-aware, sentient beings, and we are sitting here on a Sunday morning because we know that there is something greater than we are, that there is more to life than can ever meet the eye. That’s miraculous! And miracles are everywhere if we take the time to listen and look and feel with our hearts as well as our eyes and ears.

Resurrection is a powerful metaphor for us as we continue to live this life. It is a metaphor for new beginnings, for ultimate liberation, for ongoing presence of those we love, and the continuing presence of Jesus in the world. May we live fully as people whose lives are empowered and made beautiful by the presence of God. And may we be always on the lookout for mystery and everyday miracles. Even at the breakfast table.

Amen.
 
© 2024 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact hal at plymouthucc.org for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses.

[1] Peter Steinfels, “What comes as a shock…” in NY Times, September 30, 2006.

“Open Your Eyes”
Luke 24.13–35
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning,
Plymouth Congregational UCC,
Fort Collins, Colorado
30 April 2023
 
For as long as I can remember, this has been my favorite post-resurrection story. It presents the unfolding of faith as a journey of seeing the holy in our midst. I love the way Jesus walks alongside the two people without disclosing his true identity…just biding his time, interpreting scripture, continuing along the road to the village where the two people were heading. And then Jesus keeps on walking, but the two travelers call him back and ask him to stay with them since the day was reaching its end. The road at night could be a dangerous place.
This is a key moment when the story turns: a moment of profound hospitality. What if the two travelers had not insisted that Jesus join them for the night? They might never have realized who he was or that he had been raised from death. In this country, we don’t have the same depth of understanding when it comes to hospitality that other cultures do, including the middle eastern culture in which Jesus lived. It wasn’t just a matter of being friendly or kind, but rather hospitality could have been a matter of survival. We just don’t get it – that kind of hospitality. Years ago, when I was in South Korea as part of a UCC delegation, people went out of their way to ensure that we were comfortable and well-fed, offering me their beds, inviting me to a feast in a traditional home, and tuning in to where I was as a guest. For most Americans, hospitality is an afterthought, which is a shame.

It strikes me as odd that Jesus, the guest at the table, takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them. Clearly, he switched roles and has become the host at the table. And his actions are recounted by Marta and me every time we celebrate communion: we take bread, bless it, break it, and give it. And it is in that moment of profound hospitality, in the breaking of the bread, that their eyes are opened and Jesus is made known to them. They have share a long, dusty journey together, and sharing the meal is the catalyst that enables them to experience the risen Christ.

Besides hospitality, eating is an important social phenomenon as well. In strictly hierarchical societies, people of different social classes don’t mix. You see it on Downton Abbey when those who eat upstairs would never eat with those downstairs. But think about where Jesus had been eating: defying the norms of purity by eating with sinners and tax collectors. This table — Christ’s table — is a representation of how the kingdom of God is meant to be for us: a table where there is no distinction because of class, gender, race, orientation, wealth, education, or ethnicity. It is a representation of God’s anti-imperial realm, where all of God’s children are welcome and no one is turned away.

The Emmaus story, the event at which Christ is made known to those who offer hospitality to a stranger, is a seminal event. Though we are unlikely to peer into an empty tomb or push our fingers into Christ’s wounded hands, we encounter the risen Christ in enacting profound hospitality. We encounter the risen Christ in the breaking of bread. We encounter the risen Christ in overturning the broken norms and assumptions of our consumer-driven, economics-obsessed culture.
I had a real epiphany coming out of the pandemic, a period of two-plus years when we didn’t eat together as a congregation. No dinner church. No First Name Club luncheons. No Simple Soup Suppers to bookend Lent. No celebration meals, even when we worshiped in the park. No potlucks. I have always seen potlucks as a sort of Prairie Home Companion-esque artifact of a time gone by, but the pandemic gave me new insight into how important it is that we share meals together.
It became clear to me last fall when Jane Anne and I were in the Catacomb of Priscilla in Rome and we saw a fresco from the second century…the 100s AD…so it’s very early. Men and women are eating together at table, sharing a meal. This wasn’t a celebration of communion, but rather a sort of community potluck. But it isn’t just a meal…it’s what happens when people gather around a table to share the abundance that has been entrusted to them. It is an occasion for building koinonia or spiritual community.

No one is ever turned away from a potluck. And there is always a bit of a loaves-and-fishes effect, because there always seems to be enough to feed everyone…even when everyone brings dessert. A potluck often has an element of mixing people at table who might otherwise not get to know each other. Older adults sitting with teenagers, well-to-do folks and those who may not have a cent in the bank, Gay, Straight, Bi, Trans, Lesbian folks all eating together. A meal can be a picture of what the Kingdom of God looks like in action.

Many of you will remember one of our visiting scholars, John Dominic Crossan. Many years ago, I was reading his provocative book Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography, and there was a wonderfully pithy sentence about this morning’s scripture in it that I have long remembered: “Emmaus never happened; Emmaus always happens.” In other words, this story may never have occurred in the way that Luke describes. And for some of us, that invalidates the larger truth of the story, which is tragic.

Does there literally have to be a village called Emmaus for the story to be true? Do there need to be two disciples, one named Cleopas, for the story to be true? Does Jesus need to walk with them, explain scripture to them, and eat with them for the story to be true. No. What makes the story true is that we ourselves can experience it. We encounter the risen Christ when we act compassionately, when we extend an extravagant welcome, when we break down barriers between people, when we remember the presence of Christ living within us and among us when we come to Christ’s table for communion. How can you and I make Emmaus happen here at Plymouth in our worship, in our fellowship, and in our welcome? “Emmaus never happened; Emmaus always happens.”

One of the other “Aha!” moments I had after coming back to church after the pandemic is that it is easier for us to see the face of Christ in each other when we are, in fact, face-to-face. It’s great that we have a livestream and Zoom meetings, but there is something precious about seeing each other in person. Wishing one another the peace of Christ in person. Receiving communion elements in person. Meeting new people in person. Discussing and debating in person. Hugging in person.
I have seen the image of Christ in Council meetings at Plymouth. When we are doing our very best to discern together a path forward for our congregation and how we live as an outpost of the Kingdom of God in this place. It isn’t easy, and it doesn’t always happen, but there is an element of grace and real presence that can happen when we gather intentionally as Christian community.

Sometimes when I’m leading a pilgrimage or a retreat, I’ll ask people at the end of the day if they had any God sightings: times when the love or presence of God became clear to them. And oftentimes when people are asked to pay attention, we notice things that otherwise might elude us.

It’s important that we keep our eyes open to see when we might catch a glimpse of the Christlight in our midst. It probably won’t look like Jesus looked, and that may be why the travelers on the Emmaus Road didn’t recognize Jesus.

I hope that for each of us, we have those moments when we have an encounter with the risen Christ, who continues to be with us. He is with us in the struggle for justice and peace, with us as we wrestle with scripture, with us in moments of deep hospitality, and with us in the breaking of the bread.

May we open our eyes and our hearts to one another and to God so that we might see the reflection of Christ in one another.

Amen.
 
© 2023 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact [email protected] for permission to reprint.
 

PDF of sermon text

John 5:1-9
Seventh Sunday in Easter – Memorial Day Sunday
Plymouth Congregational Church, UCC
The Rev. Jane Anne Ferguson
 
I chose our scripture text today, before the tragic events of this week. It is a healing story from the gospel of John. Healing of people, of communities, of institutions and governments require change….sometimes revolutionary change….and established institutions rarely receive the invitation to change with open arms. The Spirit of God invites us into healing change as we hear this story of Jesus healing a man long ill.
1… there was a Jewish festival, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 2In Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate in the north city wall is a pool with the Aramaic name Bethsaida [which has become the name “Bethesda” in our times.] It had five covered porches, 3and a crowd of people who were sick, blind, lame, and paralyzed sat there. [The tradition around the pool was that an angel of God would come and stir up the water from time to time. If a person could be the first into the pool while the water was stirred up then the person would be healed.]
5A certain man was there who had been sick for thirty-eight years. 6When Jesus saw him lying there, knowing that he had already been there a long time, he asked him, "Do you want to get well?” 7The sick man answered him, "Sir, I don't have anyone who can put me in the water when it is stirred up. When I'm trying to get to it, someone else has gotten in ahead of me." 8Jesus said to him, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk."9Immediately the man was well, and he picked up his mat and walked. Now that day was the Sabbath.

Bible, Common English. CEB Common English Bible with Apocrypha - eBook [ePub] (Kindle Locations 41438-41446).

For the Word of God in scripture, for the Word of God among us, for the Word of God within us, Thanks be to God.

“Do you want to get well, to be healed?” What a question to ask someone who is has been lying by this healing pool, probably always a beggar, begging for his living, for thirty-eight years? It almost seems cruel, doesn’t it? Well, of course, he would want to be healed. But then the man’s answer is tentative….it almost seems to be an excuse for why he is not well, rather than a statement of longing to be well. Hmmmm….”Does he really want to be well? Why hasn’t he been able to rally the help to get into the healing pool?” There could be answers to that question. He’s too physically weak; he doesn’t have friends to help; he is used to how he is living and might not really believe in the healing of the pool after all this time; he doesn’t see a way out of his poverty other than begging. And of course, then we, in our 21st century cynicism ask….and if he did get into the pool, would it really heal him? Many questions arise about illness and wellness, about healing and help and wholeness from this at first seemingly simple ” Jesus does another miracle” story.

A few anthropological facts about the first century Mediterranean understanding of illness and wellness. Quoting from the Social-Science Commentary on the Gospel of John, “the main problem with sickness [in the time of Jesus] is the experience of the sick person being dislodged from his/her social moorings and social standing. Social interaction with family members, friends, neighbors, and village mates comes to a halt. To be healed is to be restored to one's social network. In the ancient Mediterranean world, one's state of being was more important than one's ability to act or function. Thus, the healers of that world focused on restoring a person to a valued state of being rather than to an ability to function.”[1]

The healing miracle went beyond the physical ailment in this story. Jesus brought the man out of a state of isolation, living as an unhealed beggar at the edge of a healing pool, and gave him a chance to re-enter community. Jesus gives him the opportunity be healed from separateness, which is the New Testament definition of sin, the state of being separated or separating ourselves from the Holy within us and within the community of God? Jesus asks the man in this story, “Do you want to be get well, to be healed?” He answers much like we might out of a sense of guilt …”its not my fault, I’m not healed….this stopped me and then this.” Yet implicit in the evasive answers is hopefully a tentative yes…as well as the fear of what change healing might bring.  

Do you want to be healed? Do I want to be healed? Do we want to be healed as a faith community, as a local community, as a nation? I know that sometimes we hear these gospel healing stories and they are seem like a fairy tale. It seems like Jesus says, ”Poof! You are well! Everything is sunshine and lollipops now!” But Jesus never says that because Jesus knows that healing involves the pain of change. Jesus says empowering things like, go your faith has made you well or take up your mat and walk or you are forgiven. When we have an “owee,” a cut on our hand, scrape on our shin, a sprained muscle, an arthritic joint, a cancer diagnosis, we probably all say, “yes, I want to be healed!” We want to function fully in the world again, but the journey is never without some pain.

Healing always hurts in some way. But not healing, staying ill or wounded, hurts worse! The man by the pool of Bethsaida was given new life in the healing words of Jesus. And as part of being healed, he had take responsibility for himself, pick up his own mat, and set off on the daunting journey of re-entering community. He had to stretch new muscles, emotionally, intellectually, as well as physically along the way. He had to face religious authorities and be proclaimed ritually clean, if he wanted to re-enter worship life in the temple. And in doing so he had to explain who healed him and face a scolding for carrying his mat on the Sabbath. Our establishment institutions never make healing easy. The man had to find his family, if they were still around, learn how to work and make a living, find somewhere to live. It’s a wonderful miracle that Jesus restored his physical wholeness giving him an entry back into community. Yet there was a journey with some discomfort ahead. And he was not a young man.

I ask again…Do you want to be healed? Do I? Do we? Does our world? Starting with ourselves, because it is really the only true change we can ever completely affect, are there parts of your life that need healing? Are you willing to take the healing journey even knowing there is discomfort, some growing pains, ahead? Take a moment just to take that in….

The Holy, Healing Spirit of God has brought us as a church community thus far through these last two very difficult years of pandemic. We have had setbacks, but we have been blessed in many ways. We have not, thus far, lost members to death from COVID. Thanks be to God! We have maintained worship and as much programming as possible. We may have had staff leave for a variety of reasons, but we have also had wonderful interim staff come to be with us and we have hired new staff to help us rebuild in new and creative ways. (Just an aside, staff camaraderie is better than it has ever been in my almost eight years here.) Yet I still want to say to us as a faith community…

Do we want to be healed? Do we want to do the vital healing work of rebuilding our programming, particularly in Christian Formation for all ages? Do we want to get back  o serving again through mission and outreach in our wider community? Do we want to learn anew the joy of giving our financial resources to build the church that God is calling us to be? Sometimes I am not sure if we do….we are all really tired and worn down by the last two years of trauma. We have experienced a lot of pain and sorrow. Perhaps it feels easier to just sit by the pool doing what we know, not taking the risk to make a move toward the healing we want because we know deep down that God’s healing will bring change and that can cause us pain and grief. 

My friends, Plymouth is never going to be like it was on March 8, 2020, the last Sunday that we met before lockdown. And that hurts, I know. We need to grieve and mourn that openly. However, if we answer the call of Jesus, “Do you want to get well?” with a yes…we will bring forward so much of our wonderful heritage in new forms and we will welcome new creativity in the process. New folks will join and are joining us.  Yes, some of our church members have chosen to find other faith communities. Yes, we will not have a dedicated staff Director of Adult Christian Formation. Yes, we will soon have two full-time ministers instead to two fulltime and one part-time ministers. Yes, we will need to dig deep and discover how we can give of more financial resources to support our new strategic plan vision. Yes, these seem like hard realities. And they invite healing change! We can take this journey because we will be on it together with the Holy, Healing Spirit of God. We are not alone! We can be made whole in ways that we never thought possible. Will we take up our mats and walk?

The healing begins inside each of us….we each have to say yes to the healing of God…deliver our hurts and fears into God’s hands, surrender them and trust. We each need to do this on a personal level. We can’t point fingers at the system or the staff of any institution and say, “this needs to change so that I can be more comfortable.” It is up to each of us to take on the joyous and yet uncomfortable journey of healing so that as a whole faith community we can be healed.

As people called to the love and justice of Jesus, willing to make the healing journey, we can and will be leaders in the healing of our country’s culture of fear and violence. I would like to point fingers at those who oppose the gun safety laws that I believe, and many of you believe, desperately need to be enacted to stop the killing in our country. It makes me feel better to point fingers and say, “If only THEY would change…..” But pointing fingers doesn’t help us become a safer nation. We are called to some very hard healing work that must be done in very difficult conversations, with greater compassion and understanding than we think we can ever muster, for our gun safety laws to change. We are called to a depth of prayer we never knew existed. And we know that changing the laws is the tip of the iceberg in healing the soul of our nation that is so divided. So, I must ask myself, and ask you to ask yourselves, what am I willing to change with God’s healing help inside of me? What attitudes am I willing to ask God to heal?  What risks am I willing to take that I never dreamed of, to be the change for justice and love that I want to see? To bring in the realm of God here in northern Colorado. We must each ask ourselves these hard questions for the sake of the growth of our own souls, the soul and mission of our church and the soul of our country. Do we want to get well? Do we want to be healed? How will we allow the Spirit of God to change, to heal, each of us and thus the whole of us? Amen and Amen.

©The Reverend Jane Anne Ferguson, 2022 and beyond. May be reprinted with permission only.


[1] http://www.crossmarks.com/brian/john5x1.htm