Wednesday in the Octave of Easter
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Was it not necessary?
So far in our church life we’ve avoided most situations where well-meaning Christians told us we could have prayed more or done something more sacrificial to avoid problems, whether those problems be death or illness or not finding a good parking place. And so far I’ve mostly kept my mouth shut when anything like that popped into my own thoughts.
But sometimes it’s different when the person suffering speaks of their own situation. I should have prayed differently, I should have given more, I should have driven down a different street. Sure, those words often reflect false guilt. But anyone who is suffering has a right to say whatever they want, and touching them, comforting them as they speak, blesses them, whereas telling them they are wrong in what they say just brings more pain.
And then there is this story from the disciples traveling to Emmaus. Out of their own grief they told Jesus what happened in Jerusalem, about Jesus being arrested and crucified, about the disciples’ certainty that he had been the one to redeem Israel, about their despair when he was killed, and finally how the tomb where Jesus had been laid was empty.
Jesus listened, but then he spoke. Called them foolish.
Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?
And Jesus explained how the Scriptures repeatedly made clear what would happen, and how exactly what they predicted had happened. He did not reveal himself to be Jesus until after they had arrived at their village, settled down for a meal, and offered the blessing.
While he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.
I imagine if I was with those travelers, and like them excited by the prospect of the Messiah redeeming Israel, overwhelmed with grief at his death, astounded by his disappearance and then educated beyond my means by the strangers’ explanations, then when Jesus made himself known “you could have knocked me over with a feather.” Our grief disappears and joyful triumphant happiness prevails. No wonder these travelers rushed back to Jerusalem, full of their story, full of Jesus’ words, full of life.
The last enemy to be destroyed is death.
In my own aging life I think about death more than I want to, more than I should. I need the uplift of walking with the disciples to Emmaus, remembering that Jesus’ resurrection is for all of us for all time, that our own resurrection follows his. The world I drive around in is blanketed with medical advice and doctors’ offices. The ads on TV insist I can work harder and spend more money on medications, to live as long as I can. Death is the enemy, and I must fight death any way possible. But always, I am thrown back into the lie that this is all I can do. O God, where is your victory now?
So I’m very thankful for the dusty road away from Jerusalem, and for Jesus showing up on his disciples’ journey.
Margaret prayed a prayer yesterday, a prayer about her own pain. “Lord, if this sorrow and sadness comes from you, then let me embrace it. If it does not, then take it away.”
I want that to be my prayer too.
(Acts 3, Psalm 105, Psalm 118, Luke 24)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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