STORIES OF HOPE

Forty years and two days ago, at one minute past six in the evening, a single bullet affected the lives of millions of people. A man who stood for peace, a prophet mighty in word and deed, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., fell to the floor of a balcony at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, TN. As the news of his assassination spread, rioting erupted in several cities across the country. Across the street from us, several windows of the then G Fox Department Store were smashed. Many expressed their intense rage, fierce disappointment and rampant despair by setting fires and looting stores, and in an effort to reign in the widespread chaos, the authorities set a dusk to dawn curfew.

Over two thousand years ago, a hideous crucifixion affected the lives of only a few people – at least initially. A man who stood for peace, a prophet mighty in word and deed, Jesus of Nazareth, hung lifeless on a cross just outside the walls of Jerusalem. As news of his murder spread, no riots erupted, no fires burned, no curfews were set. In fact, for most people in the Roman Empire, the days following his crucifixion were simply business as usual.

But life couldn’t go back to business as usual for everyone . . .

As we join two of Jesus’ followers on the road to Emmaus, a close look tells us that they are struggling – struggling with the awful pain that accompanies senseless loss, frustrated hope, and their confusing aftermath.

So, as many of us do after a significant loss, they spend time processing their experience. As they talk with one another about the events of the last few days, a stranger comes alongside them – we recognize the stranger, but they don’t. As biblical scholar, Alan Culpepper states in The Interpreter’s Bible, he literally asks them, “What are these words that you have been pitching back and forth to each other as you walk along?” The two men respond by standing still, looking sad, and wondering out loud if he’s the only stranger in Jerusalem who doesn’t know what took place over the last few days.

One of the men, Cleopas, fills him in on the recent events involving Jesus of Nazareth. Then, he adds those famous words: “We had hoped . . .”

They had placed their hope in Jesus –
Hope for a future free from oppression by the powers that be;
Hope for a future in which the powerless did not have to live at the mercy of the powerful,
Hope for a future in which in justice for some means justice for all
In their eyes, Jesus was the one who could save them from a life of mediocrity at best and misery at worst. In fact, not long ago, they had joined the crowds in Jerusalem, rejoicing in the hope that their dream was about to come true.

But not long afterwards, Jesus died, was buried, and is now missing, absent, unavailable to them . . . so they express their despair to the stranger in their midst – “we had hoped.”

Is there something you had hoped Jesus would do for you?
Was there a time when he seemed to be missing from your life?
How did you respond to his apparent absence?

When it looks like Jesus is missing, many of us also make our way to Emmaus. In his book, The Magnificent Defeat, Frederick Beuchner suggests that Emmaus is “the place we go to in order to escape – a bar, a movie . . . it may be buying a new suit or a new car or smoking more cigarettes (and, if I may add, eating more food) than we really want. Emmaus is whatever we do or wherever we go to make ourselves forget . . .”

On our way to Emmaus, we can become so immersed in our grief, confiding only in trusted friends, that we do not see Jesus when he comes alongside us. Sometimes, though, we are prevented from recognizing him, because we need to be prepared – prepared to see him as he is,
prepared for what he is about to do in our lives,
prepared for a future that will be very different from business as usual.

And that is what Jesus does for Cleopas and his friend – he prepares their hearts and minds – first by teaching them the Scriptures, and, then, in response to their hospitality, by sharing a meal with them.

How has Jesus revealed himself to you?
Did you recognize him at the time, or did you realize that it was Jesus only after you reflected on the experience?
Did you tell others about it?

That’s one of the ways we get to know Jesus – from people who are willing to share their experiences of him.

At the time of his death, Martin Luther King was in Memphis to support sanitation workers who were on strike because they were forced to work long hours for little pay. To make matters worse, they had no job security, so they could be fired at their bosses’ whim. Baxter Leach, a now 68 year old retired sanitation worker, shared his experience of Dr. King with a Courant reporter. Leach feels that, “Dr. King helped all Americans. He was for poor folks. He wasn’t just for one color. He was for all colors.”

Jesus is also for all colors, all nationalities, all creation. At the time of his death, he was on earth
to show people what God is really like,
to reveal God’s unconditional love for all,
to offer hope – hope to those who were in danger of losing hope.

And that’s the story that still needs to be told. Like the two men who, after recognizing
Jesus, immediately return to Jerusalem

to tell the other disciples the good news,
to ease the pain of their hurting friends, and
to rekindle their hope for the future,

You and I have a wonderful opportunity to share with one another the life-giving, hope-renewing experiences we’ve had with Jesus.

Can you think of a hope-filled experience you’ve had with Jesus that you are willing to share with at least one member of this congregation?
What difference might sharing your story make in that person’s life?

An article in the Hartford Courant earlier this week portrayed a public story of hope – the story of a tentative agreement in the ongoing Sheff vs. O’Neill case, which is aimed at ending the racial isolation of Hartford public school students. It’s a sign of hope - hope that we are living into the dream of God – the dream that little boys and girls, black and white, rich and poor can play together, study together and eat together – as equals.

We all have our own, more personal stories to share as well. When we do, we enrich the lives of those who listen – just as their stories can enrich our lives. That’s one of the ways our community is strengthened – when we tell one another stories of how God brought us through pain to joy, failure to victory, despair to hope.

Speaking of stories, that reminds me of the story of an elderly couple who decide to have lunch at a fast food restaurant. The man places an order for one hamburger, French fries and a soda. He unwraps the plain hamburger, carefully cuts it in half, and places one half in front of his wife. He then counts the French fries, dividing them into two piles and neatly places one pile in front of his wife.

The man takes a sip of the drink. His wife takes a sip and then sets the cup down between them. As he begins to eat his few bites of hamburger, the people around them started looking over and whispering to one another – ‘That poor old couple - all they can afford is one meal for the two of them.'

So a young man comes over to the couple and politely offers to buy them a second meal. The husband tells him that they are just fine - they are used to sharing everything. People sitting closer to their table notice that, although the wife occasionally takes a sip of soda, she hasn’t eaten anything – she simply sits there watching her husband eat.

Again, the young man came over and begged them to let him buy another meal for them. This time the old woman says, 'No, thank you, we are used to sharing everything.' “Then why aren’t you eating? You haven’t taken a single bite! What are you waiting for?”

The wife flashes him a gummy smile and says warmly, “The teeth!”

True, we don’t have to share every experience with one another. But we are called to share how Jesus changes our lives – and, in the process, who knows when, where, how, and most importantly, through whom Jesus will come alongside us?