Read the manual
Commentary
My friend was overwhelmed by his first church convention. "It's all so big," he wrote in his report. "There is so much going on. I wish I had a manual to instruct me on what to do, where to go, and how to vote."
Someone responded to his report with a letter to an editor. "How sad," said the letter, "that a leader of our church would not know that we Christians already have a manual on how to live the Christian life. It's called the Bible."
The letter writer was vastly unfair to my friend, who was asking for a manual to the convention, not to the faith. But the letter writer was also unfair to the Bible itself, which is far from a manual. It is not a set of instructions. It contains history, poetry, and fiction as well as instruction. It must be read in a complex dialogue with tradition and common sense. Much of it makes sense only in an ancient context, and cannot easily be translated into a modern setting (I defy anyone to come up with an adequate modern analogy to Paul's prohibition of eating meat offered to idols in 1 Corinthians 8-10).
However, there are passages in the Bible where the "manual" analogy works on a small scale. We read three such passages today. Peter's sermon in Acts is a manual on how to live the resurrected life. The letter that goes under Peter's name addresses the same subject, and Luke, who is telling a story rather than writing a manual, still subtly manages to instruct us in how to live under a risen Lord.
Acts 2:14a, 36-41
Peter's long Pentecost speech is divided into several sections in the lectionary. Today we read his closer -- this is where he asks for the signatures that would close the sale. To review the story: the twelve (and perhaps 120 disciples with them) have been filled with the Spirit and inspired to preach the risen Lord (2:1-4). This has drawn a crowd of Pentecost pilgrims to listen (2:5-13). Peter, as the leader of this group, stood to proclaim that these events proved that the last days predicted by the prophets were upon them; God was at work here (2:14-21). This gave Peter the opportunity to preach the gospel (2:22-36, the first of several summaries of early Christian preaching in Acts, which Luke notes is merely a précis, v. 40). The interaction with the crowd (2:37-42) will lead to an idealized portrait of the early community (2:43-47).
The heart of Peter's speech is the affirmation that the resurrection proves Jesus' true identity: "Therefore let the entire house of Israel know with certainty that God has made him both Lord and Messiah, this Jesus whom you crucified" (2:36). The issue of "certainty" is crucial to Luke's work; he has already told us that "certainty" is the purpose of his writing (Luke 1:4). Peter's listeners (and Luke's readers) can be certain that God is fulfilling the promises made to Abraham -- because it's happening before their eyes! Luke reinforces the connection to the tradition by using the archaic-sounding "House of Israel," and by giving Jesus two traditional titles, "Lord" and "Messiah."
Peter's last words were pointed directly at the crowd ("this Jesus whom you crucified"), and as so often in Luke-Acts, his speech is interrupted at its climax. The emotional response of the hearers, "Brothers, what should we do?" is a sign of the Spirit's work (2:37). Peter's response is twofold: "Repent and be baptized everyone of you in the name of Jesus" (2:38). "Repent" indicates a complete change of life, a turning around to walk in the opposite direction. It is an especially poignant word on the lips of Peter, who knew what it meant to get a second chance -- and now all Israel is given that second chance! Peter commends baptism (although there is no record of the twelve or even the 120 being baptized) "in the name of Jesus" (it is not clear whether this was an alternative to the trinitarian baptismal formula, or simply a recognition of the power and authority behind Peter's proclamation). The promised results are also twofold: "Your sins may be forgiven, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit." Peter is using a financial image in the promise that sins will be forgiven, like a debt. His promise of the Spirit extends beyond those listening to his sermon, "For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him" (2:39).
Luke tallies the number of those who responded to Peter's challenge at 3,000 (he does not mention the mechanics of getting all those people baptized!). The large number indicates the magnitude of the growth: from a mere seed of 120, the community has grown nearly thirtyfold. This is the restored people of God, God's new work in Israel, the firstfruits of a new Pentecost.
1 Peter 1:17-23
What Luke did for the Jewish people, 1 Peter does for the Gentiles -- trace the theological connection between God's act in raising Jesus from the dead to its practical benefit for those who believe. Peter lays out the whole system, step by step. It is truly a manual for the community of the resurrection.
The manual might be titled, "How to Be Holy." The instructions specify that holiness is God's work, not ours. Peter moves to his main theme almost as soon as he begins the body of the letter: "Be holy yourselves in all your conduct; for it is written, 'You shall be holy, for I am holy' " (1:15-16). Peter quotes from Leviticus 19:2, in full acknowledgment of the Hebrew notion of "holiness," which at root is "separation." God is "holy" in the sense of being "set apart" from all created things. The people of God are to be "holy" in that same sense -- set apart and different from their pagan neighbors. Thus, Peter employs the metaphor of the "Diaspora" as our lection begins: "If you invoke as Father the one who judges all people impartially according to their deeds, live in reverent fear during the time of your exile" (1:17). Like the Jewish Diaspora, Gentile Christians are to live as aliens and sojourners in a hostile land. Their lives and actions prove them to be different from others.
Peter grounds his instruction in some theological basics. God is judge; that is, God is the only one who sees human beings impartially, for who they really are and what they really do (1:17). Further, the God who knows us truly has sacrificed for us; God is the one who has bought our freedom. Peter uses the image of the "ransomer," one who pays to free a slave (it was not unheard of for a philanthropist or temple to redeem and set free a slave; Peter pictures God doing this on a widespread scale, v. 18). Peter invokes Passover imagery when he speaks of "the precious blood of Christ" being "like that of a lamb without defect or blemish" (v. 19; cf. Exodus 12:5; Leviticus 22:21); his contrast of perishable/imperishable will carry over into his discussion of the power of God's word in 1:23.
The redeemer judge God was at work from the beginning in Christ, who was "destined before the foundation of the world" (v. 20). Fortunately for you, Peter says, "he was revealed at the end of the ages for your sake" (the parallel clauses are hymnlike). This is the same language he has already used to describe Christians (v. 2); there is an analogy between God's work in Christ and God's work in Christians. God's work included raising Christ from the dead and to glory, with the corresponding result of faith and hope among believers (v. 21). This is the new birth that comes through the word (v. 23).
The Christian life is the appropriate response to God's work in Christ on our behalf. Peter exhorts his readers to "live in fear" (the NRSV qualifies the "fear" as "reverent," v. 17). They are to turn "from the futile ways inherited from your ancestors" (v. 18). They are to trust in God (v. 21). This trust is variously specified as including faith, hope, obedience, and love (vv. 21-22; the NRSV's "genuine mutual love" is literally "brotherly love" within the community, a necessary commodity if, as many think, Peter was writing to a persecuted church, cf. 4:14, 16). Yet even these virtues are not human work, because they are guaranteed by God's work in Christ (v. 21). Christians are to live as purified souls (v. 22); again, this recalls the Passover lamb who by virtue of baptism has been "born anew" (v. 23).
Luke 24:13-35
Luke continues the textbook approach to the basics of the resurrection, this time in narrative form. In the Emmaus story, the disciples restate some basic Lukan themes. But Jesus himself fills in the blanks, explaining how these events have been a part of God's plan all along. In teaching the disciples the true meaning of his life, death, and resurrection, Jesus shows how they can come to recognize him on a regular basis in the breaking of the bread.
The Emmaus story is a bridge between the empty-tomb narrative and the appearance of the risen Lord to all the disciples. It touches on a number of important Lukan themes: the centrality of Jerusalem as the place of God's work; the revelation of Jesus in teaching and Eucharist, and the fulfillment of prophecy. It is a "recognition story" of a type common in both the Hebrew Bible and in Greco-Roman storytelling, where hospitality to a stranger pays off in unexpected ways. Most importantly, it puts Luke's readers back on the road, echoing Jesus' original trip to Jerusalem (9:51--19:27).
Emmaus was a short trip from Jerusalem (the exact location is uncertain). Luke identifies Cleopas and his unnamed companion as two of those who had heard yet disbelieved the women's story of an empty tomb (24:13). These two were having an extended discussion on the meaning of the events of these last few days (v. 14). They were joined by Jesus himself, though "their eyes were kept from recognizing him," (Luke often uses the image of sight and vision as a metaphor for faith and salvation, cf. 1:78-79; 2:30; 4:18-19; 6:39-42; 10:23; 11:34; 18:35-42; 19:42); the defect here was not their comprehension of the things that had happened, but the lack of proper perspective, which only Jesus could provide. Their state of affairs is quite poignantly summed up by Luke in their response to Jesus' greeting: "They stood still, looking sad" (v. 17).
Cleopas recounts the story so far in quite Lukan terms. Jesus is described as the "Prophet like Moses," mighty in word and deed before God and the people (v. 19; cf. Deuteronomy 34:10-12). The response to this prophet was divided: the leaders of the people gave him over to condemnation and death (v. 20), but "we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel" (v. 21). The empty tomb story is recounted with some astonishment, but inconclusively, as if the simple fact of its emptiness was not enough to evoke faith in them (vv. 22-24).
Jesus' response is that of a prophet: "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!" (v. 25). Of course, what they lack is a proper messianic understanding of the scriptures, and who better to provide it than the Messiah himself? Luke shows the church how to read scripture in this passage: the Hebrew Bible must be read through and by Jesus. It points to him as it details the prophetic pattern he followed: rejection, suffering, death, and vindication. "Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" (v. 26).
Luke gives us a recognition scene with a bit of playful suspense, as Jesus threatens to walk off anonymously into the sunset (vv. 28-29). Instead, he accepts the hospitality offered by the two disciples, and proceeds to recall his actions at both the miraculous feeding and the Last Supper: he took, blessed, broke, and gave bread (v. 30). Like innumerable Christians since then, their eyes were finally opened, and he was "made known to them in the breaking of the bread" (v. 35). Retrospectively, they understood how he was also made known in the messianic teaching from the scriptures: "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" (v. 32).
The two return immediately to report to the others. Their report is almost pre-empted with the announcement that greets them: "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" Nevertheless, the two disciples fulfill their duty and become types of the faithful Christian, who not only meet Jesus in the scriptures and the breaking of the bread, but also witness to their experience to all who will hear.
Application
I once was working with a church that wanted to do evangelism. "Here's an idea," someone said, "Let's get the listings of all the new housing purchases in the area, and we'll make up a flyer and send it out to the new people who move in. We'll be like the Welcome Wagon."
It was not a bad idea in and of itself, publicity-wise, but as a sole plan of evangelism, it had a few flaws (a good response on that kind of mailing would be about one percent). I tried to reason with them.
This was a small church, average attendance less than 100. "What's the most important thing about this church?" I asked, "What makes you come back each week?"
"We're like a family," they kept saying, "We treat each other like a family."
"What does it mean to be a family?"
"You live together," they said, "you eat together, you work together, and you have fun together."
"How do you bring new members into a family?"
That one stumped them.
"Well," I said, "you either get born into it, or adopted. Now say you're going to adopt a child -- how are you going to find a child to adopt?"
That stumped them, too. If only there were an adoption agency for potential new church members; we could just drop by on Sunday morning and pick up a few.
"One thing's for sure," I told that group, "you're not going to invite new members into your family by sending out mass mailings. You wouldn't even send out a flyer to get guests for a dinner party. In a family, you want people not only to eat with you, but live with you, work with you, and play with you. How can you expect to invite people to join your family without a personal invitation?"
Jesus has given us a handbook on how to bring our friends and neighbors to him. First, we need to understand the scriptures. Next, we need to understand theology. Then we need to understand how those two things connect to our everyday lives -- we need to repent, be baptized, be born anew, learn from Jesus, and see him in the stranger and in the community. In short, we need to live the Christian life ourselves.
Then we can invite people into the family, personally.
Alternative Applications
1) Luke 24:13-35. Preachers need to keep alert to the dark side of scripture, even in its brightest moments. One prominent problem in recounting the passion narratives is the polemic edge of all the gospels, which could easily be twisted into anti-Semitism, in the form of "the Jews killed Jesus." Good teaching is an effective antidote to that sort of nonsense. In Luke's case, clearly it is not "the Jews" but a subset of a divided Jewish people that is held responsible for the betrayal of Jesus. Cleopas' speech in Luke makes the division clear: The leaders of the people handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him (and even here, Cleopas is stretching it -- only Romans had the power to crucify). As for the common people, they tended to respond positively to Jesus, according to Luke. The theme of division is Luke's way of addressing a fundamental theological question for his community: Why, if Jesus is the promised Messiah, did not all the Jewish people believe in him? Luke's answer is that some did, some didn't -- the people were divided, with the leaders going against Jesus. He is not writing history so much as an explanation of how the church came to be dominated by Gentiles. He certainly would have been appalled to find anyone using his work to justify hatred against the Jewish people.
2) 1 Peter 1:17-23. In their book, Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony (1989), Stanley Hauerwas and William H. Willimon challenged mainline Christians to rethink their role in contemporary society. Christendom, the American fusion of state and civil religion, according to Hauerwas and Willimon, is dead. And that, they think, is a good thing! The Christian faith cannot be institutionalized into an unofficial state religion without being distorted into something it is not. True Christianity absent Christendom can now live on as if in a Dias-pora, an enclave separate from a society that challenges and provokes the values of that society. We are to be "resident aliens," no longer trying to accommodate our beliefs to the norms of society, but speaking out and living out a vision of faith that sees Christ's self-giving as its norm. Gone will be the appeal to selfish and self-serving religious "needs," in favor of a genuine commitment to the God revealed in Jesus Christ. In the terms used by the author of 1 Peter, we will "live in reverent fear during the time of our exile."
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19
The lectionary editors' decisions as to the carving of biblical texts are not always well-advised. The decision to edit out the middle section of Psalm 116 disrupts the flow of its poetry. The editors' decision is possibly related to the fact that Greek and Latin Bibles typically divide the psalm into two separate psalms: verses 1-9 (Psalm 114) and 10-19 (Psalm 115). Modern scholars are agreed, however, that this is a single, unified work. The psalm is not that long and could certainly be read in its entirety in a worship service.
As a whole, this individual song of thanksgiving bears witness to the joy and relief of a believer who has been healed from some dread illness. This was a potentially mortal sickness (v. 3). It led to incapacity for a time (v. 6). It caused emotional anguish, and possibly physical disability as well (v. 8). It was very much a serious affliction (v. 10).
And what is the psalmist's response to this good news?
I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the Lord,
I will pay my vows to the Lord
in the presence of all his people.
-- Psalm 116:13-14
The psalmist's deep intuition as to how best to respond to his experience of healing finds liturgical expression. His gratitude drives him to the temple. Meister Eckhart taught, "If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice." Psalm 116 is surely a sufficient response, according to that way of thinking.
This ancient liturgical impulse found later expression in the way this psalm came to be used as part of the Passover ritual. In the Passover liturgy it is typically read as one of the cups is raised in blessing. The salvation experience of the individual who wrote this psalm (the details of which are lost in the mists of time) thus becomes the prototype for any human experience of salvation. Passover worshipers, hearing this psalm, vicariously experience the psalmist's relief and gratitude, and claim those worshipful feelings for themselves. Christians, of course, will recognize these lines as frequently belonging to celebrations of the Lord's Supper.
Many people come to worship seeking to receive something from God. That is certainly a legitimate reason for coming, but perhaps a purer motivation is that expressed by the author of this psalm. It is gratitude, pure gratitude, that leads him to "lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord." Would that we could remember to come to God more often, for just such a reason!
Addressing the subject of healing prayers, Frederick Buechner reflects on Mark 9:14-29, the story of the father of the sick boy, who exclaims, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" Buechner writes, asking about the boy who isn't healed. What happens when the prayer, "... listened to or not listened to ... the prayer goes unanswered?" Buechner envisions Jesus saying, "Who knows? Just keep praying." Buechner advises us to remember the sleepy friend, the crooked judge. "Even if the boy dies, keep on beating a path to God's door, because the one thing you can be sure of is that down the path you beat with even your most half-cocked and halting prayer, the God you call upon will finally come, and even if he does not bring you the answer you want, he will bring you himself. And maybe at the secret heart of all our prayers that is what we are really praying for." (Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC [New York: Harper & Row, 1973], p. 71)
Someone responded to his report with a letter to an editor. "How sad," said the letter, "that a leader of our church would not know that we Christians already have a manual on how to live the Christian life. It's called the Bible."
The letter writer was vastly unfair to my friend, who was asking for a manual to the convention, not to the faith. But the letter writer was also unfair to the Bible itself, which is far from a manual. It is not a set of instructions. It contains history, poetry, and fiction as well as instruction. It must be read in a complex dialogue with tradition and common sense. Much of it makes sense only in an ancient context, and cannot easily be translated into a modern setting (I defy anyone to come up with an adequate modern analogy to Paul's prohibition of eating meat offered to idols in 1 Corinthians 8-10).
However, there are passages in the Bible where the "manual" analogy works on a small scale. We read three such passages today. Peter's sermon in Acts is a manual on how to live the resurrected life. The letter that goes under Peter's name addresses the same subject, and Luke, who is telling a story rather than writing a manual, still subtly manages to instruct us in how to live under a risen Lord.
Acts 2:14a, 36-41
Peter's long Pentecost speech is divided into several sections in the lectionary. Today we read his closer -- this is where he asks for the signatures that would close the sale. To review the story: the twelve (and perhaps 120 disciples with them) have been filled with the Spirit and inspired to preach the risen Lord (2:1-4). This has drawn a crowd of Pentecost pilgrims to listen (2:5-13). Peter, as the leader of this group, stood to proclaim that these events proved that the last days predicted by the prophets were upon them; God was at work here (2:14-21). This gave Peter the opportunity to preach the gospel (2:22-36, the first of several summaries of early Christian preaching in Acts, which Luke notes is merely a précis, v. 40). The interaction with the crowd (2:37-42) will lead to an idealized portrait of the early community (2:43-47).
The heart of Peter's speech is the affirmation that the resurrection proves Jesus' true identity: "Therefore let the entire house of Israel know with certainty that God has made him both Lord and Messiah, this Jesus whom you crucified" (2:36). The issue of "certainty" is crucial to Luke's work; he has already told us that "certainty" is the purpose of his writing (Luke 1:4). Peter's listeners (and Luke's readers) can be certain that God is fulfilling the promises made to Abraham -- because it's happening before their eyes! Luke reinforces the connection to the tradition by using the archaic-sounding "House of Israel," and by giving Jesus two traditional titles, "Lord" and "Messiah."
Peter's last words were pointed directly at the crowd ("this Jesus whom you crucified"), and as so often in Luke-Acts, his speech is interrupted at its climax. The emotional response of the hearers, "Brothers, what should we do?" is a sign of the Spirit's work (2:37). Peter's response is twofold: "Repent and be baptized everyone of you in the name of Jesus" (2:38). "Repent" indicates a complete change of life, a turning around to walk in the opposite direction. It is an especially poignant word on the lips of Peter, who knew what it meant to get a second chance -- and now all Israel is given that second chance! Peter commends baptism (although there is no record of the twelve or even the 120 being baptized) "in the name of Jesus" (it is not clear whether this was an alternative to the trinitarian baptismal formula, or simply a recognition of the power and authority behind Peter's proclamation). The promised results are also twofold: "Your sins may be forgiven, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit." Peter is using a financial image in the promise that sins will be forgiven, like a debt. His promise of the Spirit extends beyond those listening to his sermon, "For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him" (2:39).
Luke tallies the number of those who responded to Peter's challenge at 3,000 (he does not mention the mechanics of getting all those people baptized!). The large number indicates the magnitude of the growth: from a mere seed of 120, the community has grown nearly thirtyfold. This is the restored people of God, God's new work in Israel, the firstfruits of a new Pentecost.
1 Peter 1:17-23
What Luke did for the Jewish people, 1 Peter does for the Gentiles -- trace the theological connection between God's act in raising Jesus from the dead to its practical benefit for those who believe. Peter lays out the whole system, step by step. It is truly a manual for the community of the resurrection.
The manual might be titled, "How to Be Holy." The instructions specify that holiness is God's work, not ours. Peter moves to his main theme almost as soon as he begins the body of the letter: "Be holy yourselves in all your conduct; for it is written, 'You shall be holy, for I am holy' " (1:15-16). Peter quotes from Leviticus 19:2, in full acknowledgment of the Hebrew notion of "holiness," which at root is "separation." God is "holy" in the sense of being "set apart" from all created things. The people of God are to be "holy" in that same sense -- set apart and different from their pagan neighbors. Thus, Peter employs the metaphor of the "Diaspora" as our lection begins: "If you invoke as Father the one who judges all people impartially according to their deeds, live in reverent fear during the time of your exile" (1:17). Like the Jewish Diaspora, Gentile Christians are to live as aliens and sojourners in a hostile land. Their lives and actions prove them to be different from others.
Peter grounds his instruction in some theological basics. God is judge; that is, God is the only one who sees human beings impartially, for who they really are and what they really do (1:17). Further, the God who knows us truly has sacrificed for us; God is the one who has bought our freedom. Peter uses the image of the "ransomer," one who pays to free a slave (it was not unheard of for a philanthropist or temple to redeem and set free a slave; Peter pictures God doing this on a widespread scale, v. 18). Peter invokes Passover imagery when he speaks of "the precious blood of Christ" being "like that of a lamb without defect or blemish" (v. 19; cf. Exodus 12:5; Leviticus 22:21); his contrast of perishable/imperishable will carry over into his discussion of the power of God's word in 1:23.
The redeemer judge God was at work from the beginning in Christ, who was "destined before the foundation of the world" (v. 20). Fortunately for you, Peter says, "he was revealed at the end of the ages for your sake" (the parallel clauses are hymnlike). This is the same language he has already used to describe Christians (v. 2); there is an analogy between God's work in Christ and God's work in Christians. God's work included raising Christ from the dead and to glory, with the corresponding result of faith and hope among believers (v. 21). This is the new birth that comes through the word (v. 23).
The Christian life is the appropriate response to God's work in Christ on our behalf. Peter exhorts his readers to "live in fear" (the NRSV qualifies the "fear" as "reverent," v. 17). They are to turn "from the futile ways inherited from your ancestors" (v. 18). They are to trust in God (v. 21). This trust is variously specified as including faith, hope, obedience, and love (vv. 21-22; the NRSV's "genuine mutual love" is literally "brotherly love" within the community, a necessary commodity if, as many think, Peter was writing to a persecuted church, cf. 4:14, 16). Yet even these virtues are not human work, because they are guaranteed by God's work in Christ (v. 21). Christians are to live as purified souls (v. 22); again, this recalls the Passover lamb who by virtue of baptism has been "born anew" (v. 23).
Luke 24:13-35
Luke continues the textbook approach to the basics of the resurrection, this time in narrative form. In the Emmaus story, the disciples restate some basic Lukan themes. But Jesus himself fills in the blanks, explaining how these events have been a part of God's plan all along. In teaching the disciples the true meaning of his life, death, and resurrection, Jesus shows how they can come to recognize him on a regular basis in the breaking of the bread.
The Emmaus story is a bridge between the empty-tomb narrative and the appearance of the risen Lord to all the disciples. It touches on a number of important Lukan themes: the centrality of Jerusalem as the place of God's work; the revelation of Jesus in teaching and Eucharist, and the fulfillment of prophecy. It is a "recognition story" of a type common in both the Hebrew Bible and in Greco-Roman storytelling, where hospitality to a stranger pays off in unexpected ways. Most importantly, it puts Luke's readers back on the road, echoing Jesus' original trip to Jerusalem (9:51--19:27).
Emmaus was a short trip from Jerusalem (the exact location is uncertain). Luke identifies Cleopas and his unnamed companion as two of those who had heard yet disbelieved the women's story of an empty tomb (24:13). These two were having an extended discussion on the meaning of the events of these last few days (v. 14). They were joined by Jesus himself, though "their eyes were kept from recognizing him," (Luke often uses the image of sight and vision as a metaphor for faith and salvation, cf. 1:78-79; 2:30; 4:18-19; 6:39-42; 10:23; 11:34; 18:35-42; 19:42); the defect here was not their comprehension of the things that had happened, but the lack of proper perspective, which only Jesus could provide. Their state of affairs is quite poignantly summed up by Luke in their response to Jesus' greeting: "They stood still, looking sad" (v. 17).
Cleopas recounts the story so far in quite Lukan terms. Jesus is described as the "Prophet like Moses," mighty in word and deed before God and the people (v. 19; cf. Deuteronomy 34:10-12). The response to this prophet was divided: the leaders of the people gave him over to condemnation and death (v. 20), but "we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel" (v. 21). The empty tomb story is recounted with some astonishment, but inconclusively, as if the simple fact of its emptiness was not enough to evoke faith in them (vv. 22-24).
Jesus' response is that of a prophet: "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!" (v. 25). Of course, what they lack is a proper messianic understanding of the scriptures, and who better to provide it than the Messiah himself? Luke shows the church how to read scripture in this passage: the Hebrew Bible must be read through and by Jesus. It points to him as it details the prophetic pattern he followed: rejection, suffering, death, and vindication. "Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" (v. 26).
Luke gives us a recognition scene with a bit of playful suspense, as Jesus threatens to walk off anonymously into the sunset (vv. 28-29). Instead, he accepts the hospitality offered by the two disciples, and proceeds to recall his actions at both the miraculous feeding and the Last Supper: he took, blessed, broke, and gave bread (v. 30). Like innumerable Christians since then, their eyes were finally opened, and he was "made known to them in the breaking of the bread" (v. 35). Retrospectively, they understood how he was also made known in the messianic teaching from the scriptures: "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" (v. 32).
The two return immediately to report to the others. Their report is almost pre-empted with the announcement that greets them: "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" Nevertheless, the two disciples fulfill their duty and become types of the faithful Christian, who not only meet Jesus in the scriptures and the breaking of the bread, but also witness to their experience to all who will hear.
Application
I once was working with a church that wanted to do evangelism. "Here's an idea," someone said, "Let's get the listings of all the new housing purchases in the area, and we'll make up a flyer and send it out to the new people who move in. We'll be like the Welcome Wagon."
It was not a bad idea in and of itself, publicity-wise, but as a sole plan of evangelism, it had a few flaws (a good response on that kind of mailing would be about one percent). I tried to reason with them.
This was a small church, average attendance less than 100. "What's the most important thing about this church?" I asked, "What makes you come back each week?"
"We're like a family," they kept saying, "We treat each other like a family."
"What does it mean to be a family?"
"You live together," they said, "you eat together, you work together, and you have fun together."
"How do you bring new members into a family?"
That one stumped them.
"Well," I said, "you either get born into it, or adopted. Now say you're going to adopt a child -- how are you going to find a child to adopt?"
That stumped them, too. If only there were an adoption agency for potential new church members; we could just drop by on Sunday morning and pick up a few.
"One thing's for sure," I told that group, "you're not going to invite new members into your family by sending out mass mailings. You wouldn't even send out a flyer to get guests for a dinner party. In a family, you want people not only to eat with you, but live with you, work with you, and play with you. How can you expect to invite people to join your family without a personal invitation?"
Jesus has given us a handbook on how to bring our friends and neighbors to him. First, we need to understand the scriptures. Next, we need to understand theology. Then we need to understand how those two things connect to our everyday lives -- we need to repent, be baptized, be born anew, learn from Jesus, and see him in the stranger and in the community. In short, we need to live the Christian life ourselves.
Then we can invite people into the family, personally.
Alternative Applications
1) Luke 24:13-35. Preachers need to keep alert to the dark side of scripture, even in its brightest moments. One prominent problem in recounting the passion narratives is the polemic edge of all the gospels, which could easily be twisted into anti-Semitism, in the form of "the Jews killed Jesus." Good teaching is an effective antidote to that sort of nonsense. In Luke's case, clearly it is not "the Jews" but a subset of a divided Jewish people that is held responsible for the betrayal of Jesus. Cleopas' speech in Luke makes the division clear: The leaders of the people handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him (and even here, Cleopas is stretching it -- only Romans had the power to crucify). As for the common people, they tended to respond positively to Jesus, according to Luke. The theme of division is Luke's way of addressing a fundamental theological question for his community: Why, if Jesus is the promised Messiah, did not all the Jewish people believe in him? Luke's answer is that some did, some didn't -- the people were divided, with the leaders going against Jesus. He is not writing history so much as an explanation of how the church came to be dominated by Gentiles. He certainly would have been appalled to find anyone using his work to justify hatred against the Jewish people.
2) 1 Peter 1:17-23. In their book, Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony (1989), Stanley Hauerwas and William H. Willimon challenged mainline Christians to rethink their role in contemporary society. Christendom, the American fusion of state and civil religion, according to Hauerwas and Willimon, is dead. And that, they think, is a good thing! The Christian faith cannot be institutionalized into an unofficial state religion without being distorted into something it is not. True Christianity absent Christendom can now live on as if in a Dias-pora, an enclave separate from a society that challenges and provokes the values of that society. We are to be "resident aliens," no longer trying to accommodate our beliefs to the norms of society, but speaking out and living out a vision of faith that sees Christ's self-giving as its norm. Gone will be the appeal to selfish and self-serving religious "needs," in favor of a genuine commitment to the God revealed in Jesus Christ. In the terms used by the author of 1 Peter, we will "live in reverent fear during the time of our exile."
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19
The lectionary editors' decisions as to the carving of biblical texts are not always well-advised. The decision to edit out the middle section of Psalm 116 disrupts the flow of its poetry. The editors' decision is possibly related to the fact that Greek and Latin Bibles typically divide the psalm into two separate psalms: verses 1-9 (Psalm 114) and 10-19 (Psalm 115). Modern scholars are agreed, however, that this is a single, unified work. The psalm is not that long and could certainly be read in its entirety in a worship service.
As a whole, this individual song of thanksgiving bears witness to the joy and relief of a believer who has been healed from some dread illness. This was a potentially mortal sickness (v. 3). It led to incapacity for a time (v. 6). It caused emotional anguish, and possibly physical disability as well (v. 8). It was very much a serious affliction (v. 10).
And what is the psalmist's response to this good news?
I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the Lord,
I will pay my vows to the Lord
in the presence of all his people.
-- Psalm 116:13-14
The psalmist's deep intuition as to how best to respond to his experience of healing finds liturgical expression. His gratitude drives him to the temple. Meister Eckhart taught, "If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice." Psalm 116 is surely a sufficient response, according to that way of thinking.
This ancient liturgical impulse found later expression in the way this psalm came to be used as part of the Passover ritual. In the Passover liturgy it is typically read as one of the cups is raised in blessing. The salvation experience of the individual who wrote this psalm (the details of which are lost in the mists of time) thus becomes the prototype for any human experience of salvation. Passover worshipers, hearing this psalm, vicariously experience the psalmist's relief and gratitude, and claim those worshipful feelings for themselves. Christians, of course, will recognize these lines as frequently belonging to celebrations of the Lord's Supper.
Many people come to worship seeking to receive something from God. That is certainly a legitimate reason for coming, but perhaps a purer motivation is that expressed by the author of this psalm. It is gratitude, pure gratitude, that leads him to "lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord." Would that we could remember to come to God more often, for just such a reason!
Addressing the subject of healing prayers, Frederick Buechner reflects on Mark 9:14-29, the story of the father of the sick boy, who exclaims, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" Buechner writes, asking about the boy who isn't healed. What happens when the prayer, "... listened to or not listened to ... the prayer goes unanswered?" Buechner envisions Jesus saying, "Who knows? Just keep praying." Buechner advises us to remember the sleepy friend, the crooked judge. "Even if the boy dies, keep on beating a path to God's door, because the one thing you can be sure of is that down the path you beat with even your most half-cocked and halting prayer, the God you call upon will finally come, and even if he does not bring you the answer you want, he will bring you himself. And maybe at the secret heart of all our prayers that is what we are really praying for." (Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC [New York: Harper & Row, 1973], p. 71)
